“It can happen. We all have bad days.”
“So the trick was to slow Disaway down?” I said.
Callahan nodded. “Midnight Star romped first, paid $46.80. You bet Midnight Star, you got $46. 8 for
every two bucks you put down. Figure it out, bet a thousand bucks, go home with $23,400
smackers—not a bad day?s work. My way of thinking, Disaway wasn?t just having a bad day
Sunday.”
“Supposing Midnight Star had a bad day?”
Callahan smiled. “That?s horse racing,” he said.
“How did they do it? Make him lose, I mean?”
“Lots of ways. Legal ways.”
“You think the jockey was in on it??
“Maybe, not likely. Scoot doesn?t like Thibideau or the trainer. He?s a straight-up kid; like to think it
wasn?t him.”
“How about the trainer?”
“Smokey? Maybe again, but he was pissed because he thought the boy booted the horse early. Didn?t
know Thibideau told him to.”
“So that makes it the owner?”
“Looks that way. Thing is, Tagliani knew about it. Tagliani got wasted couple of hours later. Maybe
there?s no connection, but got to think about the possibilities.”
“So what do we do about it, go to Raines?”
“Can?t. Illegal wiretap. Dutch can?t afford to have anybody know about it. No tape, all we got?s
guesswork.”
“So we forget it?”
“I don?t forget it,” he said ominously. “Happens once, it?ll happen again.”
165
31
INVITATION
I was tired of the track and anxious to get back to town. There
were a lot of loose ends that needed tying up and I suddenly felt
out of touch with things. It was pushing noon, so I told Callahan
I needed to make a phone call or two arid then I?d grab a cab
back to town.
