The view was breathtaking.
There were three paintings on the walls, two Remingtons and a Degas, all originals. There were only
two photographs in the room, both on his desk. One was a black-and-white snapshot of an older
couple I guessed were his mother and father. The other one was a colour photograph of Doe, cheek to
cheek with a black horse who must have been Firefoot.
I had a hard time keeping my eyes off her.
“Is this going to call for a drink?” Raines asked.
Callahan hesitated for a moment or two and then said, “I could do with a bit of brandy, thanks”
“Khmer?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
The wet bar was hidden behind mahogany shutters that swung away with a touch. Raines took down
three snifters that looked as fragile as dewdrops and poured generous shots from a bottle that was old
enough to have served the czar. The brandy burned the toes off my socks.
“Have a seat and tell me what?s on your mind,” he said in a flat, no-nonsense voice.
The leather sofa was softer than any bed I?d been in lately. He sat behind his desk with a sigh and
rubbed his eyes.
I was beginning to like him in spite of myself. I had remembered him as just another football jock, but
Raines had about him the charisma of authority, even as weary as he seemed to be. He dominated the
office, not an easy thing to do considering the view.
“This thing with Disaway,” said Callahan, “it goes a little deeper than splitting a foreleg because of
Butes.”
Raines swirled his brandy around, took a whiff, then a sip, and waited.
“Disaway was favoured to win a race this past Sunday—”
“He dragged in eighth,” Raines said, cutting him off.
“Yeah, right, well, we have what I would call very reliable information that the race was fixed for
Disaway to lose. Would you say the information is good, Jake?”
“I?d say it?s irrefutable,” I said.
The muscles in Raines? jaws got the jitters.
“I can?t tell you exactly how it was done,” Callahan went on. “Probably cut back his feed for a couple
of days and overworked him a little, raced him a little too much, then probably gave him a bag of oats
and a bucket of water a couple of hours before the race and he was lucky to make the finish line. But
there?s no doubt that he was meant to lose. Money was made on it,”
“By who?” Raines demanded.
