He gets into the taxi, and Joe, the cab driver says, "Perfect timing. You're just like Bill."
"Who?" Catcher slurs.
"Bill Risley. There's a guy who did everything right. Like my coming along when you needed a cab. It would have happened like that to Bill."
"There are always a few clouds over everybody," says Catcher.
"Not Bill. He was a terrific athlete. He could have gone on the pro tour in tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star."
"He was something, huh?"
"He had a memory like a trap. Could remember everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which fork to eat with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and I black out the whole neighborhood."
"No wonder you remember him." Catcher remarked.
"Bill Risley? I never actually met Bill."
"Then how do you know so much about him?" asks Catcher.
"Because I married his widow."
