“This all sounds so impossible,” Biel told me the next morning after I’d recounted to him all of the pertinent facts surrounding the deaths of both Penny Hopkins and Eddie Mapes.
“Do you think they’re connected?” he asked.
“I don’t see how. The only common denominator is the fact that they’re both racing people. There’s no reason to believe that they had anything to do with each other personally Mapes and I never even really discussed Penny Hopkins in depth. Every time we met, circumstances were such that they never permitted me to get into it with him.”
“We’re getting very bad press of late,” Biel lamented. He had to think of that as well as everything else. He was, after all, president of the N.Y.S.R.C. He had to be concerned with anything that might be bad for racing in New York.
It sounded callous just the same.
The afternoon paper yesterday had carried the headline TOP JOCKEY MURDERED, and mentioned Penny Hopkins later in the story. This morning the other paper had run the headline RACING WORLD ROCKED BY TWO MURDERS. This, on the heels of the Donero thing, plus a trainer being tried for the murder of his girl friend, made for very undesirable press for thoroughbred racing.
“Maybe you should have hired me as a publicist instead of an investigator,” I commented.
“Henry, I want you to keep looking into this thing,” he said ignoring my remark.
“I don’t know, Howard. The police are working on it, and Hopkins insists on holding me responsible. It’s his way of absolving himself of any blame.”
He waved his hands irritably.
“Benjamin is a fool. You started this thing as a favor to me. I’d like you to continue, as a favor. Will you do that?”
I thought about it a moment, forming a compromise.
“I’ll tell you what I will do, Howard. I’ll keep poking around, but only until the cops tell me to lay off. Then I’m gone. I don’t want to lose my license. Deal?”
“Agreed. What about Mapes?”
I had decided that during the night.
“That one’s different. I hold myself responsible for that. I’ll poke around in that one as a favor to me.”
“Benjamin is a fool, Hank, don’t you become one, too. You can’t possibly think that you’re to blame for what happened to Eddie Mapes. You did all you could do to help him — ”
“Except get there in time to save him. Thanks, Howard, but don’t play psychiatrist with me today, I’m not really in the mood for it.”
He dropped it.
“Did the police identify the two men you, ah, the two men who killed him?”
I’d found out about that this morning, too. Diver had called me with the information.
“Yeah, out-of-town talent. They can’t be connected with Donero in any way — yet.”
“Donero?” he asked, surprised. “Is that who you think they were working for?”
“I can’t see it any other way,” I told him. “The last thing Eddie told me was that he was supposed to lose Sunday’s race. Who’s the most notorious race fixer we know?”
“That’s circumstantial at best, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but so is snow on the ground.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you look out your window in the morning and find snow on the ground, you didn’t actually see it falling from the sky, but isn’t it reasonable to assume that it did? That’s circumstantial.”
He stared at me for a few moments. “That is absolutely fascinating.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking credit for an analogy that wasn’t mine. I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it, or I might have told him.
“Howard, there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Keep Shukey in town, will you? I might need her.”
“There’s nothing pending, so that doesn’t seem to be an unreasonable request.”
“Thanks.”
I got up to leave and he walked me to the door.
“What’s your next step?”
“I’ve got to cover some old ground, as far as Penny is concerned.
“The first time around she was missing. Now she’s dead. The reactions might be different. As far as Eddie is concerned, I’m very interested now in what caused his fight with Aiello, and I’m even more curious about the man I saw with Aiello before and after the fight. I’ll keep in touch.”
The police were also interested in Danny Aiello, as Diver had told me that morning on the phone.
“Sure we’re going to question Aiello. He’s prime for it. They obviously didn’t get along and he’s on my agenda for today,” Diver had told me.
“Give me a shot first, Jim” I requested. “If you talk to him first he’s going to clam up. If I try for sloppy seconds I’ll get nothing. I think I might have a better shot at getting something out of him than you do.”
“You’ll give me whatever you get?” he asked.
“You’ll get it. If I fuck it up, I’ll bring him to you.”
“I’ll get everything you get?”
“I told you, Jim, I value my license. I’m asking you nicely Now if you’d rather I backed off completely, just say the word.”
“No need for that. You’ve got more input into this thing than we do. You also qualify as ‘track people’. They’ll talk to you more than they will to us. Okay, sure, take your shot at Aiello. Give me a call afterward. If I’m not in, leave a message, I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay, thanks, pal.”
So now I went looking for Aiello.
I tried Sally’s first, and had breakfast while I was there.
I saw another jockey I knew slightly, Tommy Borelli and sat down with him. He was studying the scratches for the day.
“Hi, Tommy.”
He looked at me for a few seconds, squinted and then recognition set in.
“Mr. Po, right?”
“Hank”, I corrected.
“Sure, Hank, I remember. You bailed me out that time the cops thought I copped some cash that didn’t belong to me.”
The incident Borelli had referred to was a relatively minor thing. Some cash had come up missing from a trainer’s office and the cops made Tommy for it until I turned up a hotwalker with a record. He turned out to be the real thief and Tommy was off the hook. I really hadn’t spoken to Tommy more than once or twice, but I remembered him. I was glad he remembered me. He’d talk to me more freely because of it.
“Right. I was also down in the jockeys’ room the other day, asking about Penny Hopkins.”
“That’s right. Hey, what a shame, huh? What a dish she was. How could somebody ice a dish like that? What a waste.”
“Yeah. Hey, can I see those?” I asked, indicating the sheet he was studying.
“Sure. You playing these days?” he asked.
I shrugged, a habit I knew I had to break. “A bit. I’m following a jock.”
“Who?”
“The new kid, Aiello.”
He made a face.
“Why the face?” I asked. “I heard he was talented.”
“Oh, he is. He’s got the potential to be a good one, but he’s also got the potential of being a fast-class scumbag. He’s got a lot to learn about treating people, Danny Aiello does.”
That was almost word for word what Shukey had told me.
“Eddie Mapes was a particular target of his, wasn’t he?” I asked.
“Now there is a real fucking shame,” Tommy told me, like the Brooklynite he was. “Eddie Mapes was okay, he was one hell of a rider. He didn’t get the press that some of these guys get, but he could ride with the best of them.”
Suddenly Tommy got curious and asked, “You working on these things, Hank?”
“Just curious,” I told him. “My job ended when I found Penny’s body.”
“You’re the one who found her? Oh, wow, man. That must have been rough.”
“It was no picnic,” I agreed.
Aiello was listed for three mounts, I saw, but there were countless “no boys,” which is what they put next to a horse’s name when there is no rider scheduled. A good jock might pick up two or three no boys and end up with a busy day. At least I knew he would be around all day. His third mount was for the ninth race.
I handed the sheet back to Tommy and thanked him.
He finished his juice and stood up. “I gotta split. It was nice to see you again, Hank.”
“Same here, Tommy. Be good.”
“Sure, take it light. I hope you satisfy your curiosity.”
Smart kid, and he was a decent rider, too, but it was too bad that was all he’d ever be. He was the kind of jockey who would end up retiring young and making a good trainer.
It was too bad bums like Aiello were born with the talent, and the nice guys like Tommy had to bust their asses for some kind of a break.