In Which I Continue My Last Train of Thought

It would appear that I spoke too soon last time.  Who should show up, two chapters later, than "[a] fat man in sky-blue pants […] He was a large man and wide.  Not young nor handsome, but he looked durable."

Yep, that would be about right.  Wait, what's this?  The novel also mentions "He wasn't alone […]"  Well, who could that be?

"Age about twenty-five, five feet nine, thin as a broom straw."

Hrm.  Not much help.  How about his dialog and actions?  Well, it consists almost solely of "Screw you" and "In a pig's valise," and he promptly pulls a gun.  Well, that certainly makes it easier: the fat man's brought along Wilmer.

(Oddly enough, one source I read (now lost) claims that Joseph P. Toad and Alfred were in fact meant as parodies/tributes to Kasper Gutman and his two-bit gunsel, Wilmer.  Although, for the most part, Toad's demeanor doesn't come close to Gutman's, it would make sense, especially if it was the Greenstreet/Cook versions of the characters.  After all, the novel's plot revolves around Hollywood, and is peopled with characters that are quite likely based off of people and characters that Chandler would have heard about during his time as a screenwriter.

"I suppose you realize we're just a couple of bit players, Mr. Marlowe," says Toad in his last line in the chapter — just before he walks off set never to be heard from again.  How strangely, and one can't help but think (likely) deliberately, appropriate.)

And I promise: this is that last entry on this for a while.