Three of the stools pivoted away from the television set towards the Deacon. Sensing the power of his eloquence, he lowered his voice, became secretive, toying with his audience.
"It's costin' a lot of money, you know. I got it on the grape vine, I got friends in the government, they're gonna take off the hearings in a couple days."
The bartender broke in. "There's the kid!"
"Kid? Who?"
"Kennedy. See there, behind . . . He was right back there."
"That's Cohn. He ain't no Kennedy. What a greasy looking . . ."
"No, not him. Don't you think I can tell?"
Now I will ask you whether or not you can tell this committee the date on which . . .
The old colored woman tottered to the bar, an empty shot glass in her hand. "It don't amount to nothin'," she said.