"You don't imagine", says Francois, "That you and Greta could be referring to the same Lindstrom?"
"I doubt it", say I.
"Well", says Carl, "you never know, eh?"
"Especially when you would prefer not to find out", say I.
"How do you feel about all this, so far?" says Carl.
"This is all very intense and rather confusing."
"Well", says Carl, "Let's imagine, anyway, that they could be the same person. I mean the Lindstrom who was stalking Kenny, and the Lindstrom that your ex-wife mentioned that one time on the phone."
"That", says Francois, "Would be truly chilling."
"There must be more in his diary that could shed light on this", says Carl. "Do you feel up to reading some more?"
"First, chocolate", say I, reaching my hand to Carl as he passes me the bag of chocolate chips. "More chocolate...Lots of chocolate...Lots and lots of chocolate", as I dig into the bag and shovel chips into my mouth, like a condemned alcoholic grasping for his final draught of whisky....
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