“Where is your father?” Valentine asked.
“He’s out of the country on business.”
Some of the greatest scams had occurred when the person in charge was gone, and someone inexperienced was handed the reins. Cheaters called these opportunities magic moments, and there was no doubt in Valentine’s mind that Randall had seen a magic moment in Suzie’s father’s absence, and seized the chance to fleece his partner. Gerry cleared his throat. “May I make a suggestion?”
“By all means,” Suzie said.
“I know how to catch these guys red-handed,” Gerry said. “But, it’s going to mean letting the race run, then withholding the purses. You’re also going to have to keep Corky’s Boy in the winning circle so we can expose him.”
“That sounds risky,” Suzie said.
“Trust me, it’s the best way to handle it,” Gerry said.
Suzie put her hand on Gerry’s arm. “You sound like you know what you’re doing. We’ll let the race run.”
Valentine was so impressed he didn’t know what to say. His son was taking charge, and sounding like a responsible grown-up.
“Expose him how?” Bern asked. In his hand was a lab report which the track ran on all horses. “We tested Corky’s Boy two hours ago; his blood came up negative for steroids and amphetamines. That horse is one-hundred percent clean.”
“I’m sure he is,” Gerry said.
“Then how you going to expose him?”
“With a garden hose,” Gerry said.
Chapter 3
Mabel Struck was in her boss’s study sorting the mail when the phone rang. Tony got a lot of mail, mostly from panicked casino bosses, and as she reached for the phone, a handwritten envelope in the stack caught her eye. It was from an inmate in the Jean Correctional Facility for Women in Las Vegas named Lucy Price.
“Grift Sense,” she answered cheerfully.
“Do you sell wrapping paper?”
“Hi, there. Having fun at the track?”
“More fun than a barrel of monkeys,” Tony said. “I want you to turn on the TV to the horse-racing channel on cable, and tape the sixth race at Tampa Bay Downs.”
“Is something special going to happen?”
“The race is fixed, and Gerry figured it out. My son is going to be a star.”
Mabel smiled into the receiver. Tony and Gerry fought more than they played, but the relationship was slowly coming around. This was definitely a promising sign.
“Should I alert Yolanda?”
“Please. I’ve got to run. The horses are being led around the track.”
As Mabel dialed Yolanda’s number, she glanced at Lucy Price’s letter. She had never met Lucy Price, and hoped she never would. Lucy was a degenerate gambler, and was in prison going through treatment for her addiction while serving time for vehicular homicide. Tony was a magnet for women like this, and they always ended up hurting him. She stuck the letter with the junk mail.
“Hello?” Yolanda answered.
“You need to come over,” Mabel said. “Gerry and Tony are going to be on TV.”
Gerry’s wife appeared at the door a minute later, her baby in her arms. Yolanda wore ragged cut-offs and a tee-shirt smeared with baby spit, yet somehow remained a ravishing young woman. Mabel ushered her inside.
“What did Gerry do?” Yolanda asked, sounding worried.
“No, no,” Mabel said. “Tony said he’s going to be a star.”
“Wouldn’t that be a change.”
The living room of Tony’s house had newspapers on the floor, and lots of comfortable furniture. Turning on the TV, Mabel found the horse-race channel with the remote, hit record on the TIVO, then joined Yolanda on the couch.
“Gerry’s been on his best behavior lately,” Mabel said.
“But it’s just not his normal behavior,” Yolanda said. She looked into Mabel’s face and grinned. “That’s a joke.”
“Is everything between you two okay?”
“Just the usual pressures.”
“Which are?”
“Bills, bills and more bills. I’m a doctor, but somehow I never comprehended how expensive having a baby is.”
Mabel put a reassuring hand on Yolanda’s knee. “How’s Gerry taking this?
“He lies in bed at night, dreaming up get rich quick schemes, some of which probably aren’t legal, and I tell him, ‘Banish those thoughts from your head.’”
“Does he listen?”
“Most of the time. But it’s tough.”
“Oh, look. The race is starting.”
They directed their attention to the screen. There were eleven horses in the gate, and when the starting bell sounded, they exploded forward in a mad rush of muscle and controlled fury. The resolution of the TV’s picture was breathtakingly real, and the dirt on the track flew up before their eyes.
“So what’s going on?” Yolanda asked.
“The race is fixed.”
“How?”
“We’re about to find out.” Mabel increased the volume with the remote. She supposed that if something unusual was going on, the TV announcer would pick it up. Sure enough, as the horses came around the final bend, the announcer began to yell .
“Here comes Buster and Little Sheba around the turn, with Corky’s Boy glued to their tails. What a race this is, folks! They’re in the final stretch, and Corky’s Boy is even with the two favorites. Now, Corky’s Boy is pulling away. We’re coming up to the finish line, and it’s Corky’s Boy by three lengths for the win.”
The picture showed the jockey for Corky’s Boy’s waving to the crowd, and directing his mount to the winner’s circle. As he climbed down, an announcement came over the track’s public address system that the race was under review. The jockey made a face and glanced nervously in both directions. Moments later, the winner’s circle was swarming with people. One of them was Gerry, and he was holding a green garden hose. As he walked over to Corky’s Boy, an older man appeared by his side. His father.
“Why’s Gerry giving that horse a bath?” Yolanda asked.
“Beats me,” Mabel confessed.
Gerry sprayed Corky’s Boy with the hose. Before their eyes, the horse’s color changed from burnt orange to dark black, the dye running off its body to the ground. In the corner of the screen, they saw the jockey being forcibly held by a steward.
“It’s a different horse,” Yolanda said. “How did Gerry know that?”
Mabel shook her head. She’d come to the conclusion that there was a lot about Gerry that they probably didn’t know about it.
“I guess we’ll have to ask him,” she said.
