“What about The Sandman himself?”
Harvey shook his head. “Last I heard, Tommy Burns was a guest of the state of Illinois.”
“So what’s next?” said Barkas.
Young said, “I’m going to pay a visit to Dot Com Acres. Have a look at Mr. Khan’s horses. See if he’s got any the same colour as Bing Crosby.”
“What colour’s Bing Crosby?” Barkas asked.
Big Urmson said, “White, right?”
“He’s a bay, which means his body’s brown, and he’s got a black mane and tail. Unfortunately, most thor-oughbreds are bay.”
“About seventy percent,” said Harvey.
“Oh,” said Big Urmson, “that Bing Crosby.”
“What are you going to do,” Barkas asked, “pull a hair out of each horse’s tail?”
“I’m not sure how to handle it yet,” Young admitted. “But the hairs found on Shorty’s wound weren’t from the tail or mane. They were from the hide on the lower leg, and they were white.”
“But I thought you said he was brown,” said Barkas.
Young nodded. “He is, but he’s got stockings on both back legs.”
“Stockings?” Big Urmson laughed. “What the hell?”
Harvey said, “It’s a natural marking. Some horses have stars or blazes on their faces. Some have stockings on their legs. The lower part of one or more of their legs is white.”
“That’s right,” said Young. “And whoever killed Shorty lured him into Bing Crosby’s stall, and Bing Crosby has rear stockings. The killer knew that before he murdered Shorty.”
“And brought some white hairs with him,” said Harvey.
“But wait a minute,” Wheeler said. “Debi says Bing Crosby is a real teddy bear, he wouldn’t hurt a flea. Why wouldn’t the killer commit the murder in the stall of a more dangerous horse to make it more believable?”
Young considered. “Maybe the killer was afraid of what the horse would do while a murder was going on in its stall. Or, if Mahmoud Khan was involved, maybe he didn’t want the murder to take place in one of his stalls.”
“Or maybe,” said Wheeler, “the killer didn’t know that Bing Crosby was harmless.”
“But he knew enough to bring the white hairs with him.”
“Maybe he was instructed to bring them,” Harvey said.
Wheeler said, “Do we even know that the murder took place in the stall? Maybe Shorty’s body was moved to the stall after he was killed.”
“That would make sense,” Young said, “except there’s no evidence of that, no drag marks or anything.”
“And why wouldn’t the killer use Bing Crosby’s own hair? If he was such a calm horse, it would have been easy to clip hairs off of him.”
Young scratched his chin. “That’s assuming the killer was somebody local. But maybe you’re right, maybe he came from outside and didn’t know one horse from another. Anyway, the point is that if Mahmoud Khan was behind Download’s death, he may be behind Shorty’s, too. That’s why I’m going out to Dot Com Acres and see what I can see.” Young lifted himself from his chair, placed his hands on the table, and leaned forward. “Good work, everybody, but we’re far from done. Wheeler, I want you to find out what you can about Morley Rogers’ bodyguards. What are their names again?”
“Eric and Kevin Favors.”
“Right. If you need to talk to them up close and personal, I want Barkas to go with you. And I want more on Myrtle Sweet. She’s a little too involved with the old man for my liking. She’s got her finger in the pie somewhere. Urmson, I don’t need you for anything right now, so see if Staff Inspector Bateman has anything. As for you, Mr. Harvey, if you wouldn’t mind hanging back a minute.”
When it was just the two of them, Young stretched his neck up out of his collar and looked down at Harvey. “How come you came up empty on Percy Ball. What’s the problem?”
Harvey laughed lightly. “No particular reason.” His face was sallow. “I’ll have something for you tomorrow.”
“I’m counting on you to help me out on this,” Young said, standing up. “I’ll meet you at McCully’s at noon tomorrow. You can show me what you’ve got then.”
In that evening’s slo-pitch game against Narcotics, Homicide took an early 12-5 lead, due in large part to a pair of three-run homers by Big Urmson. However, with the bases loaded, none out in the bottom of the fourth, and Homicide’s infield playing in, Big Urmson stopped a line drive with his forehead. The ball fell at his feet, but Big Urmson was unable to play it because he was lying on his back staring first at the crazy flight of cartoon stars above him and then, a few seconds later, at a circle of concerned faces.
When Big Urmson was able to stand up, two things became clear: one, the stitch marks of the softball were imprinted on his forehead in the shape of the ) ( symbol used on road maps to indicate bridges, and two, not only had all three of the Narcotics base runners scored on the play—merrily rounding the bases while Young and Barkas and Wheeler and Staff Inspector Bateman and Desk Sergeant Gallagher and fingerprinting expert Wicary and the rest of the team except team manager Trick, whose wheelchair had stalled in the sand at third base, hurried to the assistance of the downed man—but the batter, too, had sprinted around the bases. While Young and his teammates slowly returned to their positions—all of them glaring into the opposition dugout—the batter, who wore number 99, was high-fiving his bench and acting as if he’d hit a moonshot so far out of the yard that street kids in Chicago were scrambling after it.
The fourth inning ended with the score 12-9.
The sixth ended with Homicide still in front 15-14. Young led off the top of the seventh, the final inning, with a double. As he lumbered into second, he saw number 99 on the back of the shortstop, who was awaiting the throw from the left field corner. Using a blocking technique he’d learned as an offensive lineman in college, Young lifted the shortstop from behind and proelled him ten feet into left field, where he landed on his face. Leaning on his knees to recover his breath, Young could hear his bench cheering. The shortstop got to his feet, dusted himself off, turned and stared at Young, pointed an imaginary gun at him, and pulled the trigger.
Two minutes later Young scored on a triple by Barkas. Barkas then scored on a Lynn Wheeler single. Much high-fiving ensued.
Narcotics managed one run in their last ups. Final score: Homicide 17, Narcotics 15.
After the game, both teams retired to McCully’s. Dexter and Jessy were working, as usual, as well as a new girl—an attractive blonde. For a while members of both teams shouted epithets at each other. The new girl helped Jessy serve, and after many pitchers of beer and half a dozen baskets of chicken wings, the mood of hostility was replaced by camaraderie. Later in the evening, a disk jockey named DJ Dan set up his equipment on the little karaoke stage. It was the night of the monthly Twist Contest at McCully’s, and DJ Dan asked Jessy and Young if they would help him decide the winners. Big Urmson—the stitch marks on his forehead now accentuated by pink dabs from a fluorescent bingo dotter belonging to a blowsy woman who had attached herself to the group but whose name no one knew—and Mona Higgins-Hubbard, right fielder for Narcotics, were declared Twist King and Twist Queen. Big Urmson was a horrible dancer: he flung his limbs every which way; he looked like a man being struck by lightning. Ms. Higgins-Hubbard wasn’t much better. Nevertheless, Jessy adjudged them the winners on the basis of their enthusiasm, and Young did likewise on the basis of Big Urmson’s heroic performance during the slo-pitch game. Trick and Wheeler finished second—Trick twisting drunkenly, rhythmically, in his wheelchair. Desk Sergeant Gallagher and the blowsy woman with the bingo dotter finished third.
An