Diane

Diane … 6:18 a.m., room 315, Great Northern Hotel up here in Twin Peaks. Slept pretty well. Non-smoking room. No tobacco smell. That’s a nice consideration for the business traveller. A hint of douglas fir needles in the air. As Sheriff Truman indicated they would, everything this hotel promised, they’ve delivered: clean, reasonably priced accommodations … telephone works … bathroom in really tip-top shape … no drips, plenty of hot water with good, steady pressure … could be a side-benefit of the waterfall just outside my window … firm mattress, but not too firm … and no lumps like that time I told you about down in El Paso … Diane, what a nightmare that was, but of course you’ve heard me tell that story once or twice before. Haven’t tried the television. Looks like cable, probably no reception problems. But the true test of any hotel, as you know, is that morning cup of coffee, which I’ll be getting back to you about within the half hour … Diane, it struck me again earlier this morning; there are two things that continue to trouble me, and I’m not just speaking as an agent of the Bureau but also as a human being: what really went on between Marilyn Monroe and the Kennedys? And who really pulled the trigger on JFK?

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