10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 87: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SATAN’S SCANDAL SHEET At home I would have disdained to shake Mark Gregg’s hand, but four- teen hundred miles from your stamp- ing ground makes a difference. He squatted beside me, from the neck down hard to distinguish from an ape. The face, however, was human enough, even rather pleasant in a weak, none-too-bright way. Some men, and women for that matter. should under no circumstances ever appear in bathing suits. I said: “What are you doing on the beach in the afternoon, with horses running at Hialeah and Tropical?” Mark Gregg shook his head dole- fully. “I was in Hialeah only once. Neat looking place with royal palms and flamingos on a lake inside the track. I cleaned up better than six hundred bucks.” He sighed. “But they got dog tracks down here—so many you hit one any way you spit. Well, that same night somebody dragged me to one. Lieutenant, did you ever see the dogs run?” “Several times.” “When you bet on a horse, you know if he comes in first you collect. But dogs! They got something called quinellas. You pick two mutts in each race, and they got to come in in one- two or two-one order or you’re out of luck. Then that devil’s invention called the Daily Double. Yeah, I know some horse tracks take double bets, but with me they’re strictly poison. You piek two winners in two races or you don’t collect a cent, and the odds never click right anyway.” “There’s nothing to stop you from betting on first, place or show,” I pointed out. “Nothing!” he practically shrieked. “Nothing but the odds. Look. The first time I was at the dog track the double paid $179. The quinellas paid any- where from $12 to $130. How can a guy jike me resist such odds, even hough they should be twice as good.” “And so you've dropped plenty ?” “Plenty? Ten times as much. And yesterday, when I finally hit a 85 quinella combination, what happens? On the nose for the mutt that finished first paid $14.40, but picking the first and second paid only $8.60. Is that a system?” “That’s what happens with the pari-mutuel machines,” I said, “The quinella got a heavier play than first place.” “Yeah.” Mark Gregg leaned over close to me. “Being as you and me are both New Yorkers—” “So are half the people at Miami Beach.” “But you're a right guy, lieutenant. You gave me a break the time I slugged Joe Spinell on account he was trying to welsh. All right. Play Whosis and Sun Gal on the Daily Double tonight at Bayshore.” I smiled. ‘“‘What’s your cut if they come through?” He looked aggrieved. “This tip is just out of friendship, lieutenant.”’ He spread his hands. “Of course, if you want to show your appreciation—” WISHED suddenly he’d get the hell away from me, I don’t like gam- blers any way you look at them. And when they’re the cheap borderline hangers-on, betting when they can scrape up a few bucks and touting when they can’t, they turn my stom- ach. -] was just about to tell him off when a dream in a couple of skimpy white strips meandered by. Semi-nudity doesn’t mean much on a beach, and there is an abundance of beauteous girls in Miami, but this one caused a minor commotion. She was tall, moving with long-limbed undulating grace, and was filled out only in the places where it did the most good. She glanced in our direction and smiled. Mark Gregg said, “Hi, Betty.” “Friend of yours?” I asked. He smacked his lips. “A _ special friend. Don’t you know her? Betty Boyer. Comes from the Big Town. Sings and dances.” “Singers and dancers aren’t up my COMmMclooo S (C(O) nn