“Now you are talking horse sense, Mr. Sherlock. If you are going to make an arrangement with the horses you have one of three ways. The first two will slow a horse down and the last will speed him up. Number one is done surgically by taking a small scalpel and giving the beast a nick in his Achilles tendon. This will work somewhat efficaciously as the horse will walk and canter normally but when he comes to gallop it begins to hurt and he slows down. A week later he is all better and back to normal. However, a spirited racehorse is not fond of having someone stick a knife in his fetlock. It is not long ago that we hear of some guy who tries to do this only to have his horse give him a very solid kick to his noggin and now he is looking at daisies from the bottom side up.
“The second means by which a fast horse can be made into a slower horse is by doping the animal. Just a bit of morphine given with a needle makes the beast happy for several hours, just like it does for a guy, and he does not feel like exerting himself and so he does not.
“Of course, Mr. Sherlock, you are no doubt deducing the problem with trying to slow down a horse, on account of because in order to be sure that the horse on which you are betting places in the money, you have to make sure that almost every other horse is slower, which is a difficult thing to do in the few hours available to you before a race.
“So the method which we of the racing fraternity recommend is that if you are going to dope a horse you first pick a more than somewhat fast horse and you dope him to win. You can make a horse run faster by giving him a small snort of opium, which makes the poor beast just a little bit stupid and not feeling any pain. So he runs his heart out because he does not know that he is tired and should not keep going at full gallop over a long course. Now when you do this sometimes the horse ups and dies after it crosses the finish line, and this is not looked upon happily by the officials or the owners, not to mention the horse. But once in a while, you can get away with it.
“Of course, an experienced man of the race track does not have to dope the animal himself on account of because all he needs is to know that a certain horse has been doped to win. This knowledge is what we, therefore, call the inside dope. If you have the inside dope on a good horse that is running at three to one or better, and that has been nicely doped, then you can place a bet with the expectation of making a good return on your investment.
“So that, and perhaps a bit more of this as well as that, Mr. Sherlock the Detective, is what a criminal can do with respect to a horse race. And if the criminal is smart he can end up with a lot of potatoes in his pockets if you know what I mean.”
“And may I assume,” continued Holmes, “that you have made an extensive study of the situation here in Epsom and have determined whether or not any of the criminal actions you have described have taken place?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “We are looking it all over and we ain’t seeing nothing.”
“We are informed,” continued the first chap, “when we are in America that all the coppers over here in merry old England do not even arm themselves with anything more than a nightstick. Now we think this is not a very smart thing to do because if some guy is sticking up a jug and has a Roscoe in his hand and one in his pocket, a copper with a billy club is not much good, as the crook will not likely stand still and wait for the copper to knock him on the noggin. But when we are arrived in England we find that we are badly misinformed, because all the stables at this here track in which the participating horses are kept are all guarded by coppers who have a Roscoe sticking out of both pockets and a martini rifle slung across their backs, a twelve gauge in their arms, and a big nasty puppy at their feet. These are serious looking coppers who are not about to tolerate any tomfoolery, and the stables are locked up tighter than a nun’s pajamas if you know what I mean. So the chances of getting inside and doping your favorite horse are somewhere between nil and squat. And we are surveying the stables for more than a week and no one is getting inside them who does not belong.”
“Well, that is good to hear,” said Holmes. “but what about the jockeys? Have any of them been bribed?”
“Nope,” said Harry. “We are looking at them real close and we ain’t seeing nothing.”
“Those boys,” said the first fellow, “are locked away like they just got off the boat at Ellis Island and someone says they have the yellow fever. The one guy who gets loose is such a rube that he goes and gets drunk and would have been thrown out of the race had it not been that the magistrate is his pal and was drinking with him, but not as much. So, no sir, it does not look like anyone is getting to the jockeys. As a matter of fact, it would appear that this big race is going to be the cleanest of any big race we have ever had the pleasure of honoring with our presence.”
Holmes nodded sagely and ordered another round of ale and meat pies, to be accompanied by mash, gravy, mushy peas, and a choice of either Stilton or Cheddar. Our American acquaintances, who were proving to be an excellent source of information for Holmes, tucked into the food and kept responding readily to Holmes’s questions.
“Very well,” continued Holmes, “if there is no inside dope, then would I be correct to presume that you will not be placing any bets on the race, and will simply enjoy the spectacle and return home?”
“That, Mr. Sherlock the Detective, is not an option that is open to us, for we have been entrusted with serious amounts of scratch from some guys in America who not only have a lot of potatoes but have friends with Roscoes who could make us very hard to find if we do not deliver on their requests. So even if the odds on the race cannot be assisted in being misleading, we face odds of three to one that our return to New York will be unpleasant if we do not bring back more than somewhat of the scratch with which we were entrusted.”
“Might I prevail upon you,” said Holmes, very earnestly, “to allow me to order some of our excellent deserts. I do believe that they serve a splendid trifle here, of the fortified variety. And while we are enjoying it, I would be most fascinated to hear the story of how it is that you have come to Epsom.”
The three men looked at each other, obviously pondering Holmes’s request. Mr. Sorrowful spoke up. “May as well. No offense Doc, or Sherlock, but you seem like far too cheap to be even thinking about placing a bet that would be big enough to shift the odds. And we suspect that you are too much of a rube to ever come to New York or even Philly and create consternation for us. So, sure, we can tell you our story.” He directed his final comment to the chap in the yellow suit.
Chapter Two
The Parade Past
“IT ALL BEGINS,” said the man in the yellow suit, “when I am sitting in Mindy’s on Broadway minding my own business, reading the Jockeys’ Journal, and eating an excellent beef stew. Mindy’s, as you are not likely informed, has the best beef stew at a reasonable price in all of Midtown, which is not to say that the stew at Toots’s is not also excellent, but the price is somewhat less than reasonable.
“As I am sitting there in walks a guy I know who we all know by the name of Fleagal Steigel. Perhaps his real name is something like Fred but because he is a lawyer he is known by all and sundry as Fleagal, on account of because of his occupation. Now he is not just any lawyer. He has a well-earned reputation for keeping his clients out of the sneezer, or if they do happen to find themselves such wise inconveniently detained, then getting them out of the sneezer. As a result, of which he has many close friends who are not to be messed with and best to be avoided.
“I immediately raise the Journal up in front of my face because I do not wish to have a conversation with Fleagal Steigel, for I have learned, as have my esteemed colleagues, that such a conversation most often does not end well for the guy who is on the recipient end of Mr. Steigel’s communications. But I am not fast enough.
“ ‘Ah ha, there you are,’ says Fleagal Steigel and he is walking in the direction of my table. Now the last words any guy wants to hear from a lawyer is ‘Ah ha, there you are’ unless, of course, he is your lawyer, but if he is your lawyer
it is usually you who has to go looking for him and not vice-a versa if you know what I mean. ‘I am happy to see you,’ he says. I am thinking that I should say to him that that makes one of us who is happy and it is not me, but I refrain since I do not wish him to become unhappy to see me.
“ ‘Have you ever been to England?’ he says to me. Now it is never good to look like you are too smart when talking to a lawyer, so I say ‘Which England?’ and try to keep looking not as smart as a lawyer. So he says, ‘Are there two of them and nobody has told me? The only England. The one on the other side of the ocean, next door to Europe.’ I am tempted to ask, ‘Which Europe?’ but I refrain since it is already established that he is smarter than I am and so I just say ‘No.’
“Next he wishes to determine that I am not currently overly encumbered by a situation of employment, which I assure him that I am not and have no immediate plans of becoming so encumbered. And then he asks if any of my esteemed colleagues are likewise unencumbered and I say that maybe one or two of them also enjoy such liberty. And he says that is good news and would I mind terribly waiting in Mindy’s because he has a client who would wish to speak to me and provide me and my colleagues with some temporary contractual obligations to which there will be a serious pecuniary reward attached. I say to him that I could perhaps spare a few minutes of my time before rushing off to my next engagement, which is not entirely true since there are no races on Sunday, and he says this is good and takes the wind and I have not seen him since that day.
“But about twenty minutes later, while I am still minding my own business and reading the Journal, but having finished my excellent beef stew and slowly enjoying my coffee, in walks a very odd looking guy if I do say so, and he comes over to my table and sits down. And he likewise says that he is happy to meet me. He speaks excellent English except that it is distorted by an uppity English accent, and he is dressed unlike any man of business in New York and looks like a chump who wants to be a dandy, but he must have some serious potatoes because his suit, though odd, is not cheap or even close. In his one eye, he has a monocle and he is squinting at me with his other. I refrain from any rejoinder about being or not being likewise happy, as now my interest is engaged, and I am thinking that Fleagal Steigel has acquired a client who might be able to pay me and my esteemed colleagues some scratch, which all of us are never too proud to turn down.
“He introduces himself and says that his name is Sir Clement Chenerton and he hails from London but has been living in America for the past ten years, mostly in Miami. And I should feel free to call him by his first name, which I take to be ‘Sir.’ He has a very exclusive business, he says, that involves moving funds back and forth, and most likely sideways I am thinking, between England and America. And he has a very special transfer of funds for which he needs personal service delivery, and I have been recommended for such an undertaking.
“Now I have learned not to look too eager when a guy, especially a foreigner who has been here for ten years but has not learned how to dress properly, asks you to do something special. And I say to him that there is an office of Western Union at the corner of West 51st and they are very good at sending funds to England or even to a god-forsaken place like Wisconsin, so why does he not make use of their services? He says that it is of utmost importance that all transactions remain confidential, which, although he does not exactly say so, I take to mean that it is important that it be kept confidential from the guys at the Infernal Revenue.
“And then he leaves me pretty well gobsmacked when he says that he needs to move over a million bucks across the ocean and back again, and he will pay me and my colleagues twenty G’s for this service. I may perhaps have looked more than somewhat of an unbeliever and so he pulls from his pocket a fat wad of G-notes and peels off twenty of them and slides them across the table and under my Journal, in which I now am no longer interested. I am wanting to play just a little hard to catch even if I am no longer so inclined, and I ask him how he knows that I will not just take his twenty G’s and go to ‘Frisco instead of London.
“He says that he is fully confident because I have excellent references, by which I take it to mean he is speaking of Fleagal Steigel and all those guys who are no longer in the sneezer. Therefore, I assure him that I am indeed such a man as he describes. And what, I ask, do we have to do with all the scratch he is entrusting to us? He says that there are many English guys, ‘chaps’ he keeps calling them, living in Florida because of the climate, which I understand to mean the climate of England not of Florida, but still have strong patriotic feeling towards old girl, Miss Vickie, the Queen, and out of loyalty are wanting to place very large wagers on this very big race that is coming up soon. He says that he sees an excellent opportunity and that, for a fee, he will look after placing their bets for them since he says he has a connection that will provide him with the inside dope, and so all of his chaps will receive copias pecunias in return. The chaps in Florida, who are tired of the small potatoes at Hialeah, are quite enthusiastic and before he knows it he has over one million smackers, but now he has to find a way to get the inside dope, which it seems he was more than somewhat short of having, and so he is referred to me by his friend, by which he means his lawyer, Mr. Fleagal Steigel, and he wishes to send me over to England first to find out the inside dope, and then to place appropriate wagers accordingly. And furthermore, he expects that we will return with an additional one million dollars at least and that ten percent of whatever is honestly earned shall be ours to keep. Now ten percent is a significant cut of the proceeds and would amount to a hundred G’s just for spending a couple of weeks of having to drink warm beer and getting seasick. So I agree and I go and recruit my esteemed colleagues, who are sitting here with you. We three have acquired a reputation for expertise in discerning the inside dope at all of the better race tracks in New York, Philly, Chicago, and Miami, and so we are quite confident that we can do the same in England, since, after all, they do speak some version of the English language, and are said to raise excellent horses. We board a ship and now we are here.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “But it has been a bust. A total bust.”
“Oh my,” said Holmes. “That must be terribly disappointing. I am so sorry to hear that. But if you cannot return empty-handed, what are you going to do?”
“I would not wish to appear to be pompous, pretentious, or otherwise putting on airs as if I were a Yaley,” said the man in the yellow suit, “but when there is no inside dope to be had then those of us who apply ourselves diligently as handicappers in the sport of kings have no alternative but to make use of what I call the science of deduction.”
I felt a smirk coming on, but kept a straight face and concentrated on continuing to take notes.
“I am familiar with that term,” said Holmes, “although not in the context in which you appear to be using it. Kindly explain, sir.”
By this time Holmes and I had moved on to brandies. Our American visitors demanded that the barkeep bring them “Jack and water” and, fortunately, the inn, having been warned of an influx of punters from across The Pond, was well supplied with their beverage of choice. Holmes lit up his pipe and sat back. The three across the table lit cigarettes and drank their whiskeys rather more quickly than I thought good for their internal constitutions, and then ordered another round.
Sorrowful and Harry continued to say very little, leaving it up to their verbose ringleader.
“I agree,” confirmed Holmes. “Pray continue. I am all attention.”
“Well sir, when it comes to applying the science of deduction to handicapping horse races, the first not so little a thing is to know the age of the horses, there being a great difference between a race for three-year-olds at the start of the season and a race for five-year-olds at the end of the season. We, my esteemed colleagues and I, do not stoop to the unseemly, inhumane, and highly unethical practice of supporting races of two-year-olds, as such races are a distaste to all devotees of true horse racing since
they are not good for the young animals, and so we have nothing to do with them, unless we have a contractual obligation to one of our clients to place his bets and then we make an exception. However, when a maiden racehorse appears at the track for his first race there is one little thing that is of great importance and it is his bloodline, his pedigree. Who sires him? Who is his daddy, so to speak? And to a lesser extent, his dam. If there is no record of any previous races, then it is of great importance that you know if his sire is a winner or a loser. If he comes from a strong bloodline, then you can count on his being a good horse, and you can usually agree to six to five in his favor. If his sire is a dud, then it is more than somewhat likely that he will be as well.
“In addition to the bloodline you now have to look at where your horse placed in all the races in which he runs. Does he win through his conditions and move up to higher races? And then you look at which racetrack those races took place. And who is the jockey? And who are the other horses? And does he run on a cold day or a hot day? Does he run best on turf or dirt? And is it raining buckets in the days preceding the race making the turf like mud, or is it dry for two weeks so that the grass is as hard as cement? And then you have to respect the opinions of the handicappers and the bookmakers and pay attention to their morning line because they make their living on getting a lot of data and setting the odds accordingly. Now, of course, they will not all agree with each other. But it is a difference of opinion that makes horse races, so you have to make your judgment and place your bets according to all the data and the opinions of others who are likewise placing bets.
“Now then, in a race where there is a favorite and you are in agreement that this horse is sure to win then, you may go ahead and bet on him to win. But if you are not certain then it is better to bet on him to place or show since by doing so you increase the odds of getting something even if you decrease the odds of winning more than just something. If you are a skilled and scientific handicapper, you will govern your feelings and not place wild bets on long odds. You will instead place bets to place or show on horses for which the odds are not as exciting because that is the way you win more often than you lose.”
Sherlock Holmes Never Dies- Collection Four Page 3
