The Abu Wahab Caper

by Ross H. Spencer

I said isn’t that what you’re leading up to?

  Betsy stood up.

  She said you’re damned right that’s what I’m leading up to.

  She said I ached for you all night.

  She scooped up her robe with one hand.

  She grabbed my wrist with the other.

  She said let’s get at it.

  I said I sure hope Biff Brimstone gets away from those black Fokkers.

  10

  …Lady Luck went out to Arlington Park…nearly lost her ass…now she’s selling it…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  I parked the Olds at the corner of Emerald and Donegal.

  I turned on the tape player and listened to Alte Kameraden.

  I lit a crushed Camel and peered into the hazy distance.

  I saw a solitary figure approaching.

  The solitary figure carried a small brown satchel.

  Most moneyed men would have come from Erin Park in a Cadillac.

  Or at least a cab.

  Not Bet-A-Bunch Dugan.

  Win or lose Bet-A-Bunch always took the Galway bus as far as Donegal and did the last dusty mile to Hogan’s Oasis on foot.

  I watched him slog eastward through the sweet June dusk.

  Trucks snorted and horns blew and shrill female laughter knifed through tavern jukebox music.

  The scent of boiling cabbage hung heavy in the air.

  A baby cried somewhere and a dog howled somewhere else and in a vacant lot two urchins threw rusty tin cans at a stray cat.

  Hardly a rich man’s surroundings.

  I could see that Bet-A-Bunch was tired.

  His collar was unbuttoned and his necktie was twisted and his hat was a caved-in blob on the back of his head.

  I got out of the Olds and waited for him.

  Bet-A-Bunch sailed his Erin Park racing program at an alley trash can.

  He missed by ten feet.

  He said Chance that’s exactly how it’s been going all day.

  He said so what’s new?

  I shrugged.

  I said nothing worth writing home about.

  We went into Hogan’s Oasis.

  The place was cool and dim and sour-smelling.

  A radio blasted out race results.

  A television set was showing a tape of the running of the third at Erin Park.

  Bet-A-Bunch put down his brown satchel and perched on a rickety stool next to mine.

  He was a small guy with wild orange hair and alert blue eyes.

  He wore a rumpled forty-nine-dollar brown suit and a red shirt and down-at-the-heel oxblood shoes and bright green socks.

  He was a man you’d never have pegged as having more than fifty bucks to his name.

  I dropped a ten-dollar bill on the bar.

  I said name your poison.

  Bet-A-Bunch ordered a Hogan’s Horror and I had an Old Washensachs.

  Bet-A-Bunch took a long thirsty pull at his drink.

  Hogan watched him.

  He said is it okay?

  Bet-A-Bunch said the gin and rum finished right in the money but it comes in a fraction light on the apricot brandy and it misses by a whisker on the anisette.

  Hogan said well I can’t please all the people all the time.

  He went away and Bet-A-Bunch sighed a weary sigh.

  I said rough going?

  Bet-A-Bunch said I lost the last three heats by the grand total of less than half a horse.

  I said well if you think that was bad luck look over your shoulder.

  The cracked backbar mirror reflected a bony man standing behind Bet-A-Bunch.

  The reflection had hungry-hawk eyes and narrow nostrils and one corner of its hyena smile was decorated by a streak of mustard.

  Opportunity O’Flynn gave Bet-A-Bunch’s arm a friendly squeeze.

  He said good buddy you have absolutely no idea how glad I am to see you at this time and place.

  Bet-A-Bunch said if I am not mistaken those were Sitting Bull’s exact words to George Armstrong Custer.

  Opportunity O’Flynn chuckled and straddled a barstool with practiced ease.

  He said good buddy are you aware that Dame Fortune seeks you this night?

  Bet-A-Bunch said well this is indeed a very great coincidence because it was only this afternoon that I searched high and low for the old bat out at the racetrack.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said good buddy do not despair for the night is always blackest before the sunrise.

  Bet-A-Bunch said don’t omit the part about the rainbow never failing to follow the storm because that is one of your very best shots.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said good buddy sarcasm is a cruel weapon too often used against the pure of heart.

  Bet-A-Bunch said leave us not speak of the pure of heart.

  He said leave us instead turn our attention to the slow of foot.

  He said namely a star-crossed creature by the unlikely name of Mucho Hotto.

  Opportunity O’Flynn sleeved a crocodile tear from a hungry-hawk eye.

  He said good buddy I accept your censure but who was to foresee that Mucho Hotto’s boy would fall off in the stretch turn?

  Bet-A-Bunch said Mucho Hotto’s boy didn’t fall off.

  He said he jumped off.

  He said it was the only way the kid could get back in time to ride in the next race.

  Opportunity O’Flynn sighed a martyr’s sigh.

  He said good buddy the past is dead and we must look to the future from whence cometh our hope.

  He said are you acquainted with the fact that Quick Cash Kelly has invented an infallible handicapping machine?

  Bet-A-Bunch said no but I am acquainted with Quick Cash Kelly and that is considerably more than enough said on the subject.

  Opportunity O’Flynn’s smile was patient and wise.

  He said good buddy the phenomenal genius of Quick Cash Kelly has produced a device that will bankrupt bookmakers from Belmont to Santa Anita.

  He said you may witness a demonstration of this scientific marvel within the hour.

  Bet-A-Bunch smiled a mocking smile.

  He said you fool.

  He said do you honestly believe that the promise of fast profit will lure me into yet another of Quick Cash Kelly’s snares?

  11

  …a pinball machine is a box what lights up and makes noise and attracts imbeciles…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  On our way to Quick Cash Kelly’s place Bet-A-Bunch said by the way is Short Stuff Shaughnessy still in cahoots with Quick Cash Kelly?

  Opportunity O’Flynn looked puzzled.

  He said Short Stuff who?

  Bet-A-Bunch said Shaughnessy.

  He said the rodent who shares Quick Cash Kelly’s eternal quest for the dishonest dollar.

  Opportunity O’Flynn frowned.

  Perplexedly.

  He said Shaughnessy.

  He said Shaughnessy Shaughnessy.

  Thoughtfully.

  He said the name is vaguely familiar.

  Bet-A-Bunch said I refer to the sawed-off insect who is forever going around telling people he is a jockey.

  He said last summer he fell off a merry-go-round and busted his nose.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said oh I believe you must be talking about Short Stuff Shaughnessy.

  He said as a matter of fact Short Stuff Shaughnessy is temporarily in Fort Worth visiting his Aunt Mabel.

  Bet-A-Bunch said one of these days he will be permanently in Leavenworth visiting his Uncle Sam.

  Opportunity O’Flynn waved me to a stop in front of a neat two-flat building on Shannon Avenue.

  Bet-A-Bunch looked the place over.

  He said this is certainly a step upward for Quick Cash Kelly.

  He said at last report he was sleeping under the number 4 table at Clancy’s Billiard Palace.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said yes but that was prior to his invention.

  He said besides he had trouble sleeping through break shots.


  Bet-A-Bunch grabbed his brown satchel and we went up to the second floor where we were greeted warmly by Quick Cash Kelly.

  Quick Cash Kelly was a slight balding fellow.

  There was a twitchiness about him and behind his horn-rimmed spectacles his wary eyes darted like little brown piranhas.

  He whisked us into his apartment where the odor of fried hamburger with onions was overpowering.

  Opportunity O’Flynn’s nostrils wiggled excitedly.

  Quick Cash Kelly scurried into the kitchen and returned with glasses of two-dollars-a-gallon red wine.

  He passed the drinks around.

  He said I certainly hope you gentlemen were not followed here.

  I shrugged.

  I said what are you worried about?

  Quick Cash Kelly said well it may be just a rumor but the grapevine has it that Catastrophe O’Cassidy is out of jail.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said good buddy unfortunately it happens to be more than just a rumor.

  He said this morning Catastrophe O’Cassidy heaved Muscles O’Malley through a fifth floor window of the Dublin Hotel.

  Quick Cash Kelly said oh how dreadful.

  He said was Muscles O’Malley badly injured when he hit the sidewalk?

  Opportunity O’Flynn said well in the interests of accuracy it must be noted that Catastrophe O’Cassidy did not heave Muscles O’Malley through a fifth floor window to the sidewalk.

  He said he heaved him from the sidewalk through a fifth floor window.

  There was an awkward silence followed closely by several more awkward silences.

  At last Quick Cash Kelly cleared his throat.

  He said gentlemen I have recently perfected a machine that is capable of making the horseplayers of this country rich beyond their wildest imaginings.

  He said alack and alas I am without the funds necessary to mass production.

  I said well if your contraption can really figure the horses all you have to do is rap out a few daily doubles and you are off to the races so to speak.

  Quick Cash Kelly’s smile was of the type reserved for kittens entangled in balls of yarn.

  He said Chance your solution is quite common to the layman intellect.

  He said it is brutal in its directness and it places crude emphasis on earthly treasure.

  Bet-A-Bunch said well it seems like only yesterday that you brutally directed a brick through the window of Flannery’s jewelry store and made off into the night with about a peck of earthly treasure.

  In a gargling voice Opportunity O’Flynn said procrastination is the thief of time.

  He said to the handicapping machine for the love of God.

  Quick Cash Kelly said yes of course.

  He bounced to his feet and ushered us into the kitchen.

  On a large packing case in a corner stood an ancient comptometer garnished with dozens of switches and tiny Christmas tree bulbs.

  Quick Cash Kelly pushed a button and rubbed his hands together.

  He said gentlemen would any of you happen to possess a copy of today’s Racing Form?

  Opportunity O’Flynn said good buddy by the wildest of coincidences I do.

  He produced the publication and Quick Cash Kelly snatched it.

  Quick Cash Kelly said will the fourth race at Erin Park be satisfactory?

  Bet-A-Bunch said as the whole world knows by now that waltz went to a busted-down goat by the name of Nifty Swifty.

  Quick Cash Kelly threw a switch and he said yes you know and I know but for purposes of demonstration one race is just as good as another because my machine will calculate as though it knows nothing at all.

  Bet-A-Bunch said well I fail to see anything so difficult in that because I have been calculating in a similar manner for the last three years.

  Quick Cash Kelly squinted at the Racing Form and he said the track was fast today.

  He pushed a button.

  He said there were nine entries.

  He pushed another button.

  He said the first entry was a gray six-year-old gelding by the name of Bengal Kid.

  He pushed three buttons.

  Bet-A-Bunch said beg pardon but why did you push the first of those three buttons?

  Quick Cash Kelly said to register the color of the entry of course.

  Bet-A-Bunch said well I fail to see just what the color of the beast has to do with much of anything.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said please do not screw up this demonstration with inane ramblings.

  He said the machine is smarter than you and it is smarter than Chance Purdue and there is an excellent chance it is even smarter than Quick Cash Kelly.

  Quick Cash Kelly was busy pouring the recent history of Bengal Kid into the handicapping machine.

  In a little while he pushed a button.

  He stepped back and said that does it.

  Nothing happened.

  Quick Cash Kelly frowned.

  He gave the packing case a savage kick.

  He raised his voice.

  He said goddammit I said that does it.

  A yellow bulb blinked on.

  Quick Cash Kelly smiled apologetically.

  He said probably just a loose wire.

  He said the yellow light is the digestion signal indicating that the machine has completed evaluation of all Bengal Kid data.

  Bet-A-Bunch said pray be advised that Bengal Kid quit cold at the eighth-pole.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said let us be attentive for Christ’s sake.

  Quick Cash Kelly began to push buttons frantically.

  Several yellow lights later he dusted his hands.

  He said all information pertinent to today’s fourth race at Erin Park has been registered and the handicapping machine is prepared to divulge the number of the winning horse.

  He said please step forward and pull the large black knob.

  Bet-A-Bunch backed off.

  He said not me.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said well great God will somebody pull the flaming knob and release the flopping wheels of progress?

  I pulled the knob and jumped clear.

  The handicapping machine went berserk.

  There was much clicking and clacking not to mention considerable grating and vibrating.

  Light bulbs blinked and bells rang and buzzers buzzed and it was all a great deal like a midnight air raid on Guadalcanal only without mosquitoes.

  Bet-A-Bunch said well even if it can’t pick winners it stands an excellent chance of making it as a burglar alarm.

  Opportunity O’Flynn took a small white card from a slot in the packing case.

  He handed it to Bet-A-Bunch.

  He said on this card will be the answer.

  Bet-A-Bunch studied the card.

  He said also some mustard.

  Quick Cash Kelly said that yellow substance is merely a smudge of the special lubricant required by the machine’s delicate moving parts.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said good buddy will you kindly read the flapping card?

  Bet-A-Bunch said it even smells like mustard.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said will you read the flooping card and stop talking about mustard of all things?

  Bet-A-Bunch said there are three numbers and the first of these is 9.

  Quick Cash Kelly said then the number-9 horse was the winner.

  Bet-A-Bunch said the number-9 horse was an animal by the name of Wild Child and he never reached the post.

  Quick Cash Kelly said well then Wild Child would have won it if he hadn’t been scratched.

  Bet-A-Bunch said Wild Child wasn’t exactly scratched.

  He said he dropped dead in the paddock.

  Opportunity O’Flynn rolled his eyes.

  He said oh Lord what is the next number on the flipping card?

  I looked over Bet-A-Bunch’s shoulder.

  I said the next number is 2.

  Quick Cash Kelly snapped his fingers.

  He said why of course and that is the n
umber of Big Bobo who copped the heat going away.

  He said can there be any doubt that my handicapping machine can pick winners?

  Bet-A-Bunch said it is indeed quite a gadget.

  He said how long did it take to perfect it?

  A distant look came into the brown eyes of Quick Cash Kelly.

  He said oh a very long time.

  He said like maybe two months.

  Bet-A-Bunch said then you must have commenced work on it about the time Hogan caught you using a magnet on his pinball machine.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said oh Blessed Redeemer let us discuss the matter at hand and not some obscure incident that happened back in the flupping Stone Ages.

  Quick Cash Kelly said gentlemen for the paltry sum of twenty-five dollars you may purchase the handicapping machine’s prediction for tomorrow’s feature race at Erin Park.

  Bet-A-Bunch said I will give you twenty and not a dime more.

  Quick Cash Kelly said twenty-two-fifty.

  Bet-A-Bunch said twenty take it or leave it.

  Opportunity O’Flynn groaned.

  He said take twenty for I have given my best and there is nothing more to give.

  Bet-A-Bunch exchanged a twenty-dollar bill for a white card from the handicapping machine.

  He picked up his satchel and we went down the stairs.

  On the sidewalk we met a gargantuan man with wild black hair and glaring black eyes.

  Bet-A-Bunch said hi Catastrophe.

  Catastrophe O’Cassidy raised a hand the size of a hippopotamus ham.

  He said is this the residence of Quick Cash Kelly who has developed a machine that picks the winners of horse races?

  Bet-A-Bunch nodded.

  Catastrophe O’Cassidy said ah it is good.

  He said it was on the strength of this report that I recently negotiated a loan of fifty dollars.

  He said I hope there is a smattering of veracity in the tale because if there is anything I am against it is the borrowing of money needlessly.

  He bounded happily up the steps.

  On our return trip to Hogan’s Oasis Bet-A-Bunch said have you ever seen Catastrophe O’Cassidy negotiate a loan of fifty dollars?

  He said Catastrophe just walks up and puts out his hand and says fifty.

  I said hasn’t anybody refused him?

  Bet-A-Bunch said one man.

  He said a guy by the name of Muscles O’Malley.

  12