Monroe D. Underwood
I stood in front of the Erin Park grandstand with Bet-A-Bunch and Oratory Rory.
Oratory Rory was saying comrades I travel now a route to riches yet unperegrinated.
He said capricious destiny visits fortunes upon fools and leaves wise men to plead for crusts.
He said trust not the whimsys of fickle fate but seize instead the bull by the balls and bring the beast to earth with a crash to make the welkin ring.
Bet-A-Bunch said well that makes sense all except the part about seizing bulls by the balls because I have been given to understand that bulls take a very dim view of such activities.
I said I believe Oratory Rory is telling us that he has found a new way to hustle a few bucks.
Oratory Rory said yea verily for I have learned that to risk one’s own funds on the abilities of four-legged creatures to traverse specified distances at high speeds is to gamble.
He said however to wager the funds of others is not to gamble.
He said if you will but glance northward along the rail you will behold a diminutive gentleman who doth converse most earnestly with an emaciated individual.
Bet-A-Bunch said well I fail to notice anybody like that but I do see a little fellow talking a leg off a skinny guy.
Oratory Rory nodded approvingly.
He said watch then for I am about to administer a lesson in rapid acquisition of operating capital.
Bet-A-Bunch picked up his satchel and the three of us walked along the rail.
Suddenly Oratory Rory’s face became a veritable map of despair.
He paged wildly through his Racing Form.
He mumbled to himself.
He rolled his eyes toward the heavens.
Every few steps he hit himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand.
The little guy watched out of the corner of his eye.
He moved squarely into our path and buttonholed Oratory Rory.
He introduced himself as Bozo O’Donnell.
He pulled Oratory Rory to one side.
I nudged Bet-A-Bunch.
I said who is Bozo O’Donnell?
Bet-A-Bunch said he’s a legend in his own time.
He said Bozo O’Donnell is an ex-jockey who is barred in the Eastern Hemisphere and also the Western Hemisphere.
I said you mean the Northern Hemisphere and the Southern Hemisphere.
Bet-A-Bunch said yeah he is barred there too.
He said Bozo O’Donnell is not permitted to ride a legitimate teeter-totter.
He said he has a strange history of falling off of horses that were in front by ten lengths and getting his mounts out of starting gates five minutes late and riding in wrong directions and any number of things that drew the unfavorable attention of the Thoroughbred Racing Association.
We edged closer to the conversation.
Bozo O’Donnell was telling Oratory Rory that he had important tidings concerning the next race.
He said mister this horse is so hot his jockey will be carrying a fire extinguisher.
He said buy me a five-dollar win ticket and you’re in business.
Oratory Rory gave a low whistle.
He said it is but rarely that I am so fortunate as to receive such information as you are prepared to divulge and surely the gods have smiled upon me this day for only a fool would fail to open to golden opportunity when it knocks which is seldom more than once if I am not badly mistaken.
Bozo O’Donnell said well I don’t know anything about that but do we got a deal or don’t we?
Oratory Rory smiled benignly.
He said why yes of course and what is the number of the magnificent beast in question?
Bozo O’Donnell said seven.
He said his name is Sir Prize and let’s get up to the windows.
Oratory Rory scowled darkly.
He said son I am desperately afraid we must postpone our visit to the windows because we must be off to ye olde bastille where you will enjoy the warm hospitality of the City of Chicago for no less than thirty days on account of I am Detective Sergeant Holmes and these are my partners detectives Ellery and Queen.
Bozo O’Donnell turned twenty-two shades of pastel green.
Oratory Rory said lo it is written thou shalt not go around touting horses and it is further written thou shalt under no conditions tout horses to police officers and especially police officers on duty.
Bozo O’Donnell flew to pieces like a three-dollar watch.
He said please Sergeant Holmes will twenty bucks square it?
Oratory Rory frowned and scratched his jowl.
He said well son I must consider my partners.
He said Detective Ellery’s wife has an incurable case of fungus of the bungus and Detective Queen’s wife may very well be coming down with rackus of the smackus and having considered their financial predicaments it occurs to me that fifty would be more in keeping with the nasty situation in which you have placed yourself.
With the speed of a magician Bozo O’Donnell whipped out five ten-dollar bills.
He dropped them into Oratory Rory’s steaming palm and he vanished into the crowd like Peter Rabbit into the friendly briar patch.
Oratory Rory winked at us and headed for the sellers’ windows.
In almost no time he was back with five ten-dollar win tickets on a mare named Ecstatic Climax.
A big man in a tan suit was right behind him.
The big man placed his hand on Oratory Rory’s shoulder.
He said tsk tsk.
Oratory Rory spread his hands palms up.
He said look Sergeant Finnegan I got five win tickets on Ecstatic Climax who will win this heat from here to the parking lot and one of them is yours.
Sergeant Finnegan shook his head sadly.
He said well apparently you haven’t heard that my dear wife is bedridden with flippus of the rippus and in view of this grave problem it seems far more fitting that I receive four tickets.
For the first time in his life Oratory Rory had nothing to say.
He peeled off four tickets and we turned to watch the horses go into the starting gate.
They broke smoothly and Ecstatic Climax went right out on top.
Bet-A-Bunch nudged me.
He said I got three grand on that mare.
Ecstatic Climax ran easily on the rail and in the far turn her boy eased the wraps.
Ecstatic Climax responded by opening a five-lengths gap.
In the last turn the boy let her go and he gave her a little flick with the whip.
Ecstatic Climax laid her ears back and she came hammering through the stretch like Sudsy McBride on his way to a free beer bash.
Sergeant Finnegan began to yell lousy ride lousy ride!
At the eighth-pole Ecstatic Climax had seven lengths on the pack but a big raw-boned gray with red blinkers was coming on the outside like an avalanche.
A few jumps from the wire the big gray passed Ecstatic Climax the way a holy-roller preacher passes a whorehouse.
Sergeant Finnegan was hollering what a rotten two-bit school-kid bone-headed ride!
His face was fire engine red.
He hollered the sonofabitch used her up too goddam soon!
Bet-A-Bunch grabbed his satchel and said let’s get out of here.
Sergeant Finnegan was climbing the fence.
When we were halfway to the gates we heard a series of pistol reports.
I said well Jesus Christ they didn’t have to shoot her just because she lost.
A woman said nobody’s shooting the horse.
She said some Chicago detective is trying to shoot her jockey.
Bet-A-Bunch stopped to glance back at the tote board.
He said Sir Prize blew two-fifths of a second off the track record and he paid three hundred sixteen dollars and eighty cents.
For the second time in his life Oratory Rory had nothing to say.
22
…the crisis is when you get bette
r the day before they call the mortician…
Monroe D. Underwood
It was shortly after dark when I pulled into the little lot behind Wallace’s.
Wallace put a bottle of Old Washensachs on the bar.
He jerked his head toward the third booth.
Spice Dugan was sitting there.
Her red hair flashed in the dim light.
She wore a cute blue dress dotted with tiny white stars.
She was frowning.
She looked like a despondent American flag.
I took my beer to the booth and sat with her.
I said don’t tell me they towed your car in again.
Spice said oh don’t worry I won’t.
She said I just wish it was all that simple.
I said look kiddo I don’t think I’m accomplishing much.
I said your old man has racetrack fever and there is no known cure for that disease.
Spice looked at me with pleading gray eyes.
She said oh for God’s sake don’t talk that way.
She said Dad has to get well and I think he’s at the crisis.
She said now we need you more than ever.
She said there’s a related factor that demands prompt action.
I said hold it sweetie.
I said if I don’t get home tonight I’ll demand prompt action.
I said from a mortician.
Spice shook her head.
She managed a wry little smile.
She said I’m not putting the make on you this time.
She said Dad just bought a racehorse.
23
…Wisconsin is a place…
Monroe D. Underwood
Spice shook her head in disbelief.
She said oh my God.
She said also a horse van.
She said he’ll be heading for Waupuwukee Downs tomorrow afternoon.
I said what the hell is Waupuwukee Downs?
Spice said it’s a little racetrack somewhere in Wisconsin.
She said Waupuwukee was a Winnebago chief.
She said Waupuwukee means Lonesome - Gray - Wolf - Who - Howl - at - Moon - All - Alone - from - Hilltop - on - Cold - Night- When - Big - Bird - Whistle - by - River - in - Valley - of - Tall - Pine - Tree.
I said at that rate the Winnebagos could have put the Constitution on a business card.
Spice said they could have put the Bible on a postage stamp.
I shrugged.
I said the first liar never stands a chance.
I said what now?
Spice said please go to Waupuwukee Downs with Dad.
She said I’ll be there in a day or so.
She said between us perhaps we can watch out for him.
She dug into her purse and slid a small glass vial across the table.
She said I found it in my mailbox this morning.
I picked it up and held it to the light.
It was half filled with sand.
I shrugged.
I said now you got to buy a cactus plant.
Spice squeezed my hand.
She was pale.
She said sand is the symbol of the fanatic Desert Sands group.
She said it marks the recipient for death by the organization.
She said stay with us for God’s sake.
I watched her go out.
She was probably the most beautiful redhead on the face of Planet Earth.
24
…I been everywhere but the right place at the right time…
Monroe D. Underwood
I sat on the couch and kicked off my shoes.
Betsy brought me a bottle of Old Washensachs.
She said baby you look tired.
I said stumbling around Erin Park all afternoon isn’t my idea of joy unspeakable and full of glory.
Betsy said an odd thing happened today.
She said a truck dumped about two tons of sand in the front yard.
She said I think I’ll buy a cactus plant.
I said Betsy I have to go to Waupuwukee Downs tomorrow.
Betsy said but you’ve been back in town less than two weeks.
I shrugged.
I said mine not to reason why.
Betsy said isn’t Waupuwukee in Wisconsin?
I said yeah someplace.
Betsy said what does Waupuwukee mean?
I said I don’t believe I got time to tell you.
Betsy said what’s this all about?
I said Bet-A-Bunch Dugan just bought a racehorse.
Betsy said well why doesn’t he race it in Chicago?
I shrugged.
I said maybe it’s not a very good horse.
Betsy said well if it’s not a very good horse why would he buy it?
I said maybe he doesn’t know it’s not a very good horse.
Betsy said if he doesn’t know it’s not a very good horse why would he take it to Waupuwukee Downs?
I said well by God Betsy you got me there.
Betsy said if I bought a horse that wasn’t a very good horse I would race it in Chicago until I found out it wasn’t a very good horse.
She said then I’d take it somewhere else.
I said where?
Betsy said maybe to Waupuwukee Downs.
I said that’s in Wisconsin isn’t it?
25
…oncet I knowed a feller what bought three newspapers every day…he had three outhouses…
Monroe D. Underwood
Betsy said did you bring up the newspaper?
I said I didn’t see it.
Betsy said it’s probably in the front yard by that big pile of sand.
She said run down and find it while I warm up the sukiyaki.
I said when did you start making sukiyaki?
Betsy said this afternoon.
She said right after a fire engine ran into the vegetable market at the corner.
She said all I had to do was turn on the stove.
I slipped into my shoes and went downstairs.
I climbed over the pile of sand.
It was very dark but I found the newspaper just inches from a pile of dog manure.
Probably an Irish wolfhound.
I’m a detective.
I looked up.
A big guy was standing on the pile of sand.
He was wearing a burnoose.
He was waving a long curved dagger.
He was hollering Allah Akbar Allah Akbar.
He leaped at me.
I leaned back and cut one loose from deep left field.
I caught him flush on the jaw.
In midair.
Right between Allah and Akbar.
He disappeared behind the pile of sand.
I said that’s certainly no way to deliver jury papers.
26
…California leads the world in landslides and earthquakes and hippies and religious cults and automobile wrecks and smog…also oranges…
Monroe D. Underwood
I sat with Bet-A-Bunch Dugan and his satchel on a rusty Super-Kola cooler behind Hogan’s Oasis.
We looked at the horse van.
Bet-A-Bunch said to hell with this gambling.
He said if you can’t beat ’em join ’em.
The van was green but little splotches of red peeked through.
Through the little splotches of red we could see flecks of gray mingled with yellow dots.
One tire was flat and two were low and one had a big bubble in it.
The windshield was cracked and the hood was sprung.
There was a puddle of oil under the engine and an ocean of rusty water under the radiator.
I said how long has it been here?
Bet-A-Bunch said a guy brought it in late yesterday afternoon and I bought it on the spot.
He said helluva deal.
He said seven hundred bucks no questions asked.
He said do you think you could drive it?
I shrugged.
&nbs
p; Bet-A-Bunch said it must run okay.
He said it got this far.
I said yeah but how far is that?
I said it doesn’t even have license plates.
Bet-A-Bunch said yes it does.
He said they’re in the cab.
He said California 1938.
I said where’s the horse?
Bet-A-Bunch said in the van.
He said the horse came with it.
I said I thought you bought the van after you bought the horse.
Bet-A-Bunch said I bought the van just in case I ever bought a horse only this horse was already in there.
He said I can’t get him out.
He said he’s sleeping.
I said if he’s half as old as this van he ain’t sleeping.
I said he’s dead.
Bet-A-Bunch said no he ain’t.
He said he winked at me.
I said I doubt if he winked.
I said he probably blinked.
Bet-A-Bunch said well what’s the difference?
I said why there’s a helluva difference.
I said how many eyes?
Bet-A-Bunch said two.
He said ain’t that enough?
I said yes but it behooves a man to know whether he is being winked at or blinked at.
I said you can get in a lot of trouble for assuming it is the first when it is the second.
Bet-A-Bunch went to the rear of the van and peered in.
He shook his head and came back to the Super-Kola cooler.
He said the poor creature has been terribly abused.
He said his knees are all knobby and his tail is ratty and he got a big lump on his back.
27
…forever was invented by Bank Americard…
Monroe D. Underwood
We were ninety miles north of nowhere and nine miles south of Waupuwukee Downs.
The sun was going down and the old van chugged along and the tire with the bubble went thumpity-thump thumpity-thump.
The dismal countryside lurched past.
Busted fences and busted barns and busted hopes.
I said what are you going to call this horse?
Bet-A-Bunch said I think I’ll name him Sahara Wind.
The Abu Wahab Caper Page 5