Dallas smiled. ‘Much appreciated, ma’am . . . er, Helen. Folk in the small Baptist-belt town in Texas where I hail from don’t take too kindly to the notion.’
‘I’m afraid we’re not a lot better here, Dallas. Homosexuality is still a crime in Australia, and quite recently Danny defended one of our major writers, proving conclusively that the police had attempted to blackmail him in order to extort money. While Danny won the case, the police were let off with a rap on the knuckles, and Danny said the only reason he won was because his client came from an old, moneyed and very influential family and was revered by the literati.’
They had left the concourse and were on the way to the parking lot. ‘Ain’t any different back home, Helen,’ Billy grinned, reassured. ‘But we ain’t here to look for action; we’re a couple and we don’t play around. Now, answer this question, please: “Are there no flies in Australia?”’
‘Of course, probably enough to cover the state of Texas,’ Helen laughed.
‘Bugs?’ Billy asked again.
‘You mean insects? Sure, Sydney is the cockroach capital of the world. But why do you ask? We’ve got mosquito netting on every window.’
‘Well, as soon as they opened the doors of the plane this guy in white overalls and a face mask steps in, an aerosol can in each hand, and he walks down the centre of the plane and sprays us all with some kinda insecticide that don’t smell so good. I said to Dallas, “What do you suppose? They’re trying to kill American bugs?”’
Helen laughed. ‘You’re right about the bugs, Billy.’ She then explained the concept of ‘island Australia’.
They had reached the car park before Helen remembered she had brought the ute. Slim-hipped or not, there was no way the two men would fit in the cabin of her Holden ute unless Dallas sat on Billy’s lap, and even then it might be tricky with the height of the roof. Also, given the conversation of just a few moments before, it would not be a good look. ‘Oh dear, I’d forgotten about the ute!’ she cried. ‘You won’t fit in, we’ll have to get a taxi!’
Dallas chuckled. ‘Hell, ma’am, I grew up sittin’ in the back of a pick-up: six brothers and mah big sis, Kate – she sat in the front with mah folk, Heck and Billy-Jo.’ He loaded their bags into the back of the ute then vaulted in after them, settling himself comfortably. ‘Okay, let’s go!’ he called, banging on the roof.
On the way in, Billy asked about Danny and his looming political career, and Helen explained about Balmain and her leaving the university to run the pub and supervise the renovation of Brokendown Street. ‘It’s a strange time for us,’ she confessed, ‘and I’m still getting over the change from Dr Dunn, senior lecturer in Egyptology, to site forewoman and publican. Most of the older workmen call me “girlie” and the young ones “boss”, while the patrons in the pub just call me “Doc Gyppo”.’
Helen then outlined how Brenda had taken over much of the care of the twins and Danny helped with their swimming training. ‘Samantha, in particular, but Gabrielle as well until she sits for the entry exam to the Conservatorium. Danny believes, and so does their coach, that Sam could make the Commonwealth Games in Jamaica in 1966.’
‘But I seem to remember Danny saying something about rowing . . .’ Billy said.
‘Yes, you’re right. For a long time Danny wasn’t sure whether he wanted the girls to be champion swimmers or champion rowers,’ Helen smiled, ‘but swimming seems to have won out over rowing. They still go out sometimes, but mainly for fun now.’
‘Hey, that’s really something! And Gabrielle, she’s a musician? That’s one hell of a family. What instrument does she play?’
‘The violin. She’s talented but there’s so much competition with the violin. She may switch to the viola or even the cello, but she loves her violin.’
‘Honey, you tell her if she passes her exams, her Uncle Billy is going to get her the best brand-new violin or viola or cello money can buy, and Dallas and me are going to be cheering Samantha in Jamaica if she makes . . . what did you say they were?’
‘The British Empire and Commonwealth Games – thirty-four nations competing.’
‘Jamaica, that’s almost next door. We’ll be there,’ Billy assured her.
‘That would be nice. We’ll all meet up if she makes the team,’ Helen said. ‘You can tell them yourself. The twins are very excited about meeting you.’
‘Dallas went out and bought them both a Stetson; he just hopes he’s got the size right. He wanted to get them a pair of cowgirl boots but I told him better hold off till next time, when we can be sure of the size.’
The twins loved their Stetsons – even though they were rather too big for them, with paper stuffed inside the headbands the girls thought they were the bee’s knees – and they both took to the two Americans immediately, too. It turned out Dallas played the harmonica and knew hundreds of folk tunes. Before long he and Gabby were engrossed in learning ‘House of the Rising Sun’. ‘It’s a traditional song, but there’s this new singer called Bob Dylan who’s just released a recording. Plays one mean harmonica, Gabby.’ Gabby immediately fell in love with Dallas, Dylan and folk music.
Sitting on the upstairs verandah after dinner, watching the lights on the harbour, Danny said, ‘Billy, tell us a bit more about these poker machines. No offence, but I find it hard to take them seriously. But you reckon they’re the way of the future, eh?’
‘I sure do. My family has made a lot of money out of the poker-machine business, and as a hotel-owning family, you should be interested too.’
‘Don’t mind him,’ said Helen with a laugh. ‘He thinks anything other than the law or sport is frivolous. I’m interested. Please, go on.’
‘Well, honey, William “Billy” du Bois Incorporated has about fifteen per cent of the slot-machine market in Nevada, where they’re legal, and twenty per cent of the unofficial . . . well, hell, the illegal machines in the rest of the country. We had a big share of the market in Havana, Cuba – maybe thirty per cent – but that commie Castro closed down the casinos. But since Kennedy got the better of him last month, and we can all breathe easy again, we’re hopeful that business may be back to normal before too long.’
Danny shook his head and said, ‘Cuba? They brought us to the brink of nuclear war! If —’
‘Hold your horses, darling,’ Helen interrupted. ‘I really do want to hear what Billy has to say about these machines.’
‘Well, I was just about to say that maybe it’s time we looked elsewhere. We’d like to take a look-see at Australia. We ain’t the first American company in your market but we reckon we are the best, and by most standards the game here is almost honest. You have over a thousand clubs in this great state with over ten thousand machines in operation. That is just about a big enough market for us to enter with the Willy Billy duB slot machine. We don’t do penny-ante, but your market is going to grow. Once your state government sees the amount of tax revenue they can harvest for doing nothing, they’ll soon be addicted. The next three years will see the number of machines double and, yessir, we aim to be here. And as sure as night follows day, the other states will open their markets.’
Danny looked doubtful. ‘This is a country that gambles on horses and dogs, Billy. I know the pokies are going great guns, but wait till the wowsers start yelling . . .’
‘Wowsers?’ Dallas said, puzzled. ‘That’s a word I ain’t heard before, but the way it comes to mah ears it don’t sound good.’
‘The church groups, temperance groups – they’re a fairly formidable lobby.’
‘But horses and dogs are okay?’
‘Yeah, but like your country, off-course betting isn’t allowed, in theory.’
Billy laughed. ‘So how is it done, who owns the scam? You ain’t got a strong mafia . . .’
‘We refer to it as SP bookmaking. Almost every pub has an operator, except the Hero – Mum’s always been dead against it
. It’s illegal, but big business all the same, and I can’t see that changing.’
‘Okay, so here’s mah next question: what is the ratio of men to women amongst punters on the horses and dogs?’
‘I can’t answer that except to say that men would be the overwhelming majority.’
‘Ah ha, and what if I told you that slot machines, one-arm bandits, are mostly played by women?’
‘Good lord! Are you sure? That simply wouldn’t have occurred to me.’ Danny turned to Helen. ‘Next time we’re at the Tigers’ let’s check that out.’
‘Brenda likes to have a flutter,’ Helen remarked, adding, ‘didn’t you know that?’
‘Mum?’ said Danny. It was a new insight into a mother who, as far as he knew, had worked hard for every penny she’d ever made.
Dallas, who had largely been silent, now said, ‘The grind, that’s where the dough is: small time, many times – it all adds up. In this business we think small and often. In the horse races you can make how many bets? Maybe ten in an afternoon of racing. A lotta folk study the form and only lay one or two bets, but on the bandits they can have one every twenny seconds.’
‘But . . . but, surely, the state can only sustain so many clubs and the clubs can only own so many machines; soon enough the market is going to be saturated. Where’s the new business for your company going to come from?’ Helen asked. ‘I mean, you can’t keep supplying machines to a limited number of outlets, can you?’
‘Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Billy said. ‘Gamblers are addicted to challenge and to change. They love new models. Every year we bring out new features, like more reels, multi-line payouts, bigger payouts – it goes on forever.’
‘Hey, wait on, surely if you increase the size of the payouts, you kill the goose that lays the golden egg!’ Danny cried.
‘Goddamnit, Danny, you ain’t thinking like a businessman. If a quarter can make you a jackpot of a thousand dollars instead of fifty, that’s very exciting news, but, of course, the jackpot comes along a lot less often.’
Helen laughed. ‘I guess tapping into human weakness has always been the perfect business.’
‘Well, Helen, honey, you’re an anthropologist, you can answer that better than I can,’ Billy ventured.
‘Ah ha, yes, gambling was a feature of ancient Egypt; it’s been around for some time,’ Helen said.
‘Ancient Egypt, hey? I’d surely like to hear about that. But you’re right, gambling is ingrained in the human psyche.’
Helen nodded. ‘I’m sure you’re correct, but why would a club buy your machines when they’re used to other brands?’
‘Good question, Helen,’ Dallas said. ‘Now we’re into my area, ma’am. You see, the whole business is full of crooks. The problem ain’t the club committee – they don’t work in the club, and they’re usually a bunch of good citizens who ain’t around at one o’clock in the morning when the machines are serviced and the money accounted for. It’s the management and staff who run the club or the casino who often cain’t resist temptation.’
‘The point is, you don’t miss what you’ve never had,’ Billy cut in.
‘Which reminds me,’ Helen said suddenly, glancing at Danny. ‘Brenda told me of a scam she uncovered yesterday, which I haven’t had time to tell you about. I missed it completely. She’s fired Ray Hankin over it.’
‘Ray Hankin! But he’s been there ten years running the bar. That can’t be true – I’d trust him with my life; he was in my battalion in Singapore, salt of the earth.’
‘Well, it seems he’s been salting it away, all right. Brenda discovered it purely by chance.’ Helen turned to Billy and Dallas. ‘Would you mind if I quickly explained this to Danny?’ she asked.
‘You want us to leave, honey?’
‘No, no, of course not! But it means interrupting you and we’re anxious to hear more. It’s just that the bar manager may call Danny at work tomorrow pleading innocence, and he needs to know what’s going on, but with all the excitement of your arrival, I forgot to tell him.’
‘Go right ahead, Helen. We’ve got all night. We’ll be too jet-lagged to sleep much,’ Dallas said.
Helen smiled briefly, then began. ‘It seems Ray buys a couple of bottles of Johnnie Walker for thirty-five shillings and brings them to the bar when he comes to work. When the legitimate Hero bottle is empty he replaces it with one of his own. As you know, the mark-up on spirits is one hundred per cent, so he sells his own bottle for three pounds ten shillings in nips, making a hundred per cent profit. Brenda didn’t catch on because the bottle stock isn’t short and the till is perfectly reconciled. She told me you all used to joke about him replacing his Holden every two years, and how his stock answer was that he preferred cars to wine, women and song. Judging by his new Holdens, he’s been running this scam for ten years. He’s cheated her out of thousands!’
‘Christ, that’s sad. I persuaded her to give him the job in the first place because he was having the usual post-war problems. Brenda kept his job open even though he’d sometimes be away for days on end when the things in his head got too much for him. How did Mum find out?’
‘Purely by chance. She moved his bag to get something and heard the bottles clink, and she thought he might have helped himself from the storeroom, but when she checked, everything was there. It didn’t take her long to work out what was happening, so she put a mark on the labels of all the Scotch in stock and kept an eye on the bar bottle. Sure enough, an unmarked bottle turned up on the rack. She let Ray do it three times before she confronted him, then fired him on the spot.’
Danny turned to Billy and Dallas. ‘I guess that’s pretty much what you were talking about with the pokies.’
Billy shook his head and sighed. ‘Greed and temptation; humans can’t resist either. But, thank the good Lord, as long as they exist, the gambling business will be profitable.’
‘The ancient Egyptians had a game called senet, a kind of combination of backgammon, draughts and chess, on which they often wagered their fortunes – houses, slaves, concubines, the lot. They believed it was given to them in a book of magic written by the god Thoth, and so, literally, was a gift from a god.’
‘Well, we have much to thank the good god Thoth for. Shall I continue?’ Dallas asked.
‘Of course. Sorry about the interruption,’ Helen said.
‘No, ma’am. I reckoned I knew every scam in the book, but I ain’t heard that one before. So, at the end of a busy grind every machine becomes a cash cow ready for milking. The secret is to get the money out of the milk pail before it can be counted.
‘The scam is usually in place from the beginning. The slot-machine agency, generally owned by a crime syndicate, sells the machines to the committee and then “interviews” the manager – it’s called “familiarising” him with their machines. That’s when the scam is first set up. It’s the club management’s reward for keeping a particular agent’s machines and “updating” them from time to time.
‘If the club committee has never seen accurate figures for a machine, then they don’t miss the fifteen or twenty per cent taken off the top each night. As Billy says, you don’t miss what you never had, and your barman was the same with his Scotch bottle. He sees to it the till reconciles. And with slot machines, the till is like a car’s odometer, only the manager is shown how to wind the day’s tally back to the amount left after the percentage has been skimmed off.’ Dallas laughed.
‘Nice work if you can get it,’ Danny said. ‘Is there nothing to prevent this happening?’
‘Absolutely!’ Billy said. ‘Our new Willy Billy duB machine can accurately meter every take from every linked machine. One reading tells you the individual take and the combined take for the day’s grind.’
‘And it can’t be tampered with?’
‘Ain’t nothing cain’t be tampered with, but doing so is well beyond the knowled
ge of the average club manager and requires roughly two hours’ work by a slot-machine mechanic. That makes a Willy Billy duB slot machine very popular with club owners and committees, and very unpopular with managers and staff.’ Billy chuckled, then went on. ‘Our sales pitch is simple enough. We guarantee to increase takings for the club by ten per cent, while giving the player exactly the same percentage payout. It’s an irresistible offer, especially as we give a fortnight’s trial. The result is always above the guaranteed ten per cent. Suddenly they see the light – the club is doing real well – and now the committee or the owner does know what he’s been missing. This usually results in a new manager and new casino or club staff, the removal of all the rival machines, and a clean club making good money.’
Danny laughed. ‘And a poker-machine supplier named William “Billy” du Bois Incorporated with a whole new bunch of enemies.’
‘You got it,’ Billy grinned. ‘It’s a tough game, but not if you know how to handle things.’ He looked over at his partner. ‘That’s where Dallas comes in.’
‘Is this what happens in America? Las Vegas?’ Danny asked.
‘Of course,’ Dallas replied.
‘Well, if you’re using Australia as a test market for the new Willy Billy duB machines, aren’t you going to run into trouble when you put them in back home?’
‘No, Danny, when everything is corrupt it’s much easier to handle. You see, the casinos are owned by the mob – the mafia. If they catch a card dealer cheating or a staff slot-machine scam, they take the culprit for a ride into the desert and he or she is buried in a shallow grave with a hand sticking up above the sand holding a blackjack card or a silver dollar in their cold dead fingers. The point is that the mob do the skimming themselves before the government man takes his share as tax, so stealing from the mafia ain’t wise.’
The Story of Danny Dunn Page 53