Brett Halliday - Nice Fillies Finish Last

“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?”

“Damn right the answer’s no! You’d do better to put that question to Claire. I admire the man’s looks, but I would no more let him-Have you ever looked at his fingernails? He has too much of a horse smell for my taste.”

Shayne finished his drink impassively.

She put both hands on the table and said quietly, “All right. But will you please not tell Larry? That was a rather low blow, my friend. I shouldn’t have sounded quite so horrified. It’s nothing important, but if Larry heard about it, it would offend his esthetic taste, as it offends mine, in a way. I’ve been a friend of Larry’s since before he married Claire. As soon as they break up, I intend to take a very cold aim and see if I can bring him down. That’s no secret. I’ve given him fair warning. You can go now. I’ll pay for the drinks.”

“They’re on me,” Shayne said with a grin.

“You could be quite nice if you weren’t such a bastard. I really looked bad on that one, didn’t I?”

The crowd was drifting back from the betting machines. Shayne spotted Domaine, at a circular table with his back to the track, studying a program. Claire, beside him, was smoking one of her little cigars, looking coldly elegant, untouched by the common passion of the people around her. Shayne stood still, which set up a slight eddy. It caught her attention. He moved his head toward the door. She frowned and nodded, then laid her half-smoked cigar in an ashtray and spoke to her husband.

Shayne returned to the betting gallery, which was feverishly lighted by the great neon signs: CASHIERS, SELLERS, $1 °COMBINATION, $2 STRAIGHT. Would-be bettors at the ends of the lines ducked from one line to another, trying to find one that was moving fast enough so they could get their money down before the bell clanged. Claire sauntered out after him, not hurrying. Faint lines around her mouth showed her tension.

“Is Tim Rourke all right?” she said urgently. “I called the hospital and they acted very strangely. They said they couldn’t give out any information. Why? What’s happened?”

“They probably couldn’t find him. As a matter of fact, he’s here. He doesn’t feel so hot, but not because of the pills you gave him. Can you get away for awhile?”

“Away?”

“Yeah. I need some help. It’s too complicated to go into. What about the Moon horse in the ninth? Has that made any change in your plans?”

“No. Larry thinks she’s trying to be funny. Paul knows the horse well and says there’s nothing to worry about. How long would I have to be gone?”

“Maybe an hour.”

She thought and nodded. “I’ll tell him I ran into some friends, and they want me to watch the next few races with them. We’re getting on each other’s nerves. I’ve done everything there is to do. Larry’s going to buy the tickets.”

“Is it OK for him to buy them himself?”

“For the first half. Other people are lined up to make the exchange before the eighth and collect when it’s over, if all goes well.” She held up her crossed fingers. “Mike, at dinner all of a sudden Larry started talking about things we did together when we first knew each other. He actually seemed quite sentimental, and I don’t know how to explain it. He’s taken a half-humorous tone with me for a long time, as though I’m a barely competent actress he’s watching on the stage. At one point he took my hand. He doesn’t do that kind of thing when we’re by ourselves, let alone in a public restaurant. Molly Moon turned several different shades of pink. She has designs on my husband, I believe. Probably she’d be a better wife for him than I am. And the really surprising thing-don’t ask me to explain it-is that he’s started worrying about letting me meet Paul alone at the motel after the races for the payoff. Why don’t we put the money in the mail? Well, for one thing it’s riskier. Paul would yell bloody murder if we made a change in plans this late. He’d suspect something.”