I was having a hell of a time. It was the Irish in me: don?t get mad, get even. I was doing both.
“Anyway,” I said, summing it all up, “the fix wasn?t part of this other mess, it?s just indicative of what
was happening here. Uh I tried to think of a delicate way of putting it.
A change of values in the city since the old days.”
His cold dark eyes shifted to me and he stared at me for several seconds although his mind still
seemed to be wandering. Then he nodded very slowly.
“Yes,” he said sadly. “That?s well put, Kilmer. A change of values.”
It was then that I realized how deeply hurt he was. Bad enough to find out you have been lied to by
your best friends, but to get the information from your wife?s old boyfriend went a little beyond
insulting. I stopped having a good time and started feeling sorry for him. A lot of Harry Raines?
dreams had been destroyed in a very few minutes.
Pancho Callahan stared out the window at the racetrack. He had less to say than usual—nothing.
Raines got up, poured another round of brandy, and slumped on the corner of his desk.
“1 appreciate your candor,” he said, stopping to clear his voice halfway through the sentence. “I
understand about your... previous ties to Dunetown. All this is probably difficult for you, too.”
He wasn?t doing bad at the innuendo himself. A lot of information was bouncing back and forth
between us, a lot of it tacitly. I almost asked him what had been troubling him.
Instead, I dug it in a little deeper.
“It hasn?t got anything to do with old ties, Mr. Raines,” I said. “I?m an investigator for the
government. I came to help clean up your town. I?ve been here five days arid I only know one thing
for sure. Everybody of importance I turn to for help, kicks me in the shins instead. Callahan wouldn?t
have told you all this. He wouldn?t be that inconsiderate. I, on the other hand, have never scored too
well in diplomacy. It doesn?t work in my job.”
I stopped talking. The dialogue was beginning to sound defensive.
Raines looked at Callahan. “Can you confirm this?” he asked quietly.
Callahan nodded slowly.
“My God,” Raines said again. And then suddenly he turned his attention back to Pancho Callahan.
“The blame rests squarely with the trainer,” Raines snapped, almost as if he had forgotten the
conversation moments before. It was as if it had given him some inner strength. The weight seemed to
be gone. Fire and steel slowly replaced it, as if he?d made a final judgment and it was time to move
on. “I?ll have Barton?s ass. I?ll get him out of here along with that damn Butazolidin.”
Callahan chimed in: “Seems to me, sir, we?re talking about two different things here. Buting up the
horse today and fixing the race on Sunday. They?re connected this time, but they?re two different
