mean all the ins and outs, I might be able to fake it better. But the safest thing to do when anybody mentions horses is to shut up.”
“Do you do his betting for him?”
“Natch. If he couldn’t trust me, who could he trust? But don’t try to pump me by standing there looking big and rugged and sexy. That’s going to get you nowhere.”
Shayne grinned down at her. “I’m probably the only person in this crowd who isn’t trying to pick a winner. I’m trying to pick a loser. What I’d like you to tell me is how you knew your husband was sleeping with Mrs. Domaine.”
She put a hand against his shoulder to steady herself. “Dawn begins to break. You’re a detective.”
Shayne took out his license and gave her a quick look at it. “My name’s Michael Shayne. My client doesn’t want me to broadcast who he is, but in this situation it’s probably pretty obvious. For now, we want to keep everything quiet. There might be some money in it.”
“Never mind the money,” she said bitterly. “This I’ll give you free. If Domaine wants to divorce her, I couldn’t care less. She’s older than Paul is, you know. The poor bastard never had a chance. She dazzled him with that Mercedes. Those little five-hundred-dollar suits. Paulie had to admit afterward that she’s nothing to rave about between the sheets. Skinny as a beanpole. It’s the accessories, you know? You peel off the wrappings and there’s nothing there. No feeling.”
“I suppose you know about the apartment.”
She nodded toward the track. “And there the son of a bitch goes. Brossard.”
Shayne looked at the track. The horses were coming past the grandstand at the end of their first half mile, led by a big powerful bay. Shayne recognized the driver as he flashed by. The last time Shayne had seen him, he had been cutting in sharply to force Shayne off the highway above Fort Lauderdale.
“And why do you think he lent Paul his apartment?” she said. “He’s been trying to get me in the sack with him for the longest time. Ugh. He’s about ninety years old, repulsive. He thought I’d be so mad that Paul was banging an owner’s wife that I wouldn’t care who I got my revenge with. Well, hell, I believe sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, but give me credit for some taste. I told the creep to stay away. I guess I hurt his feelings. You wouldn’t think a character like that would have feelings, but apparently he did. Paul thinks he killed his horse. Don J. No, I take that back. I’m not supposed to talk about horses.”
“How do you mean, Brossard killed him?”
“How should I know? He’s been in the business for ages. He knows the tricks. Now will you look at that?” she exclaimed as the horses came around into the stretch. She cupped her hands to her mouth. “Drop dead, bum! Just luck, Brossard! What did you do, buy everybody off? Boo!”
Brossard came on to win by two lengths.
“There’s one consolation,” she said as the winning numbers went up. “Paul told me to put twenty bucks on him. But he’s so finky I can’t yell for him. Honey, I’ve got to go down by the paddock, in case Paul wants to sneak me a message. If you want to know anything else, tomorrow when Paul’s out exercising horses would be the best time. Look for the trailer with the broken window.” She laughed suddenly. “I was supposed to be passed out on the floor when it happened, but I opened one eye when I heard the crash. That Rourke. My God-if they had that event in the Olympics he would have won the gold medal.”
CHAPTER 15
Molly moon was sitting at the clubhouse bar, erect on a tall stool, giving off a hard glitter, much like the diamonds at her wrists and on her fingers. Seeing the tall redhead as he came in, she said something to the man she was with and left her drink on the bar. “Michael,” she said with satisfaction, taking his arm. “I stayed alert and got to you before anybody else did. That shows I still have my youthful reflexes.”
“Are the Domaines here?” Shayne said.
“Yes, but you’re going to give me a few minutes first.”
She nodded to a headwaiter, who took them to a small table and removed a RESERVED sign after they sat down.
“A very few minutes,” Shayne said. “Not that you couldn’t tell me quite a bit if you wanted to, but I don’t think you want to.”
“Bourbon on the rocks,” she told the waiter. “Cognac,” the redhead said when the waiter looked at him. “A glass of ice water.”
The clubhouse was extremely crowded and noisy. The patrons here seemed as harassed as those in the grandstand, in spite of being able to pay the added tab and a higher price for their drinks.
“This is no place for confidential murmurs,” Mrs. Moon said, “but lean closer and I’ll tell you something.” She gave him a blinding smile. “God, but I like big rangy men. I like other kinds too, though, so don’t take it too personally. Can you hear me?”
“Barely.”
“The ninth race,” she said. “I haven’t been paying attention to this pipe dream of Claire’s, because the odds against hitting the twin double are purely fantastic. It’s hard enough for me to figure one race at a time, let alone four. But there’s so much juice in the air! Everybody’s behaving so abnormally. Larry loaning you his Caddy, for example. That was no light gesture. He won’t even let his wife drive that car.”
The waiter set down their drinks. She started working on hers right away.
“You said you’d try to be here at seven,” she went on. “He’s been on pins and needles ever since, wondering why you didn’t show up. You wouldn’t notice it unless you knew him. He’s smiling more than usual, a lot more. With Larry that’s always a bad sign.”
Shayne was giving her his full attention. “What’s he scared of?”
“If you want me to guess, he’s worrying about Paul Thorne, who’s a hard man to handicap. If you and Thorne should tangle-” She looked speculatively at the breadth of Shayne’s shoulders. “Who would take whom, I wonder? And how many trees would be uprooted?”
“I don’t have much time, Mrs. Moon,” Shayne said impatiently. “Has Domaine given Brossard the plan for the race?”
“I guess. I saw him in the paddock. The thing I wanted to tell you-God knows if there’s anything to it-is that my trainer took me into one of the stalls and told me if I wanted to make some money to put a wad on my own horse in the ninth. Fussbudget, I told you about her. He wouldn’t say why, but he doesn’t go that far as a rule, and he had a smug look around his chops. I told Claire and Larry. There’s still time to call it off, or hedge. They stiffened at first, but then they decided I was kidding, which I’ve been known to do. I’m worried. A lot seems to be riding on this miserable twin. Too much, and I don’t mean money.”
“If you don’t mean money, what do you mean?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I wish I could tell you. Maybe its only a matter of face, or prestige. Maybe Larry didn’t want to let her do it and she made him. Certainly it was a dumb move. There’s more going on in that marriage than meets the eye. They aren’t a relaxed couple at the best of times, but tonight they’re both wound up to the point where, if things don’t go according to schedule-and how often does that happen? — there’s sure to be fireworks. Mike, would you be a good sweet man and tell me what your role is in this?”
“Why should I?”
“I thought you’d say something like that. Well, I may be making a mistake, but what the hell? Claire’s carrying a gun in her bag.”
“Is that so?”
“You think I’m imagining things, do you? I saw it! She knows I’m an old friend of Larry’s, an old and good friend. What if my trainer’s right? What if Fussbudget wins? She’ll think Larry and I arranged it to make her look foolish, and it wouldn’t surprise me if somebody gets shot. I don’t want it to be me, and I don’t want it to be Larry. I’m being melodramatic, but why else would she bring a gun to the races? You tell me.”
“Mrs. Moon, are you having an affair with Paul Thorne?”
Lines like brackets appeared around her mouth. “Exactly what do you mean by that?”
“Does that mean the answer’s no?”
