All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S02E08.Dead.Heat.WEBRip.x264-ION10

You see, grays never win on weekdays.

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote

They think the race was fixed,
and I had something to do with it.

That's ridiculous.

One hour before the race,
I get sick like a dog.

If I thought she iced the guy,

I'd give her a bunch of roses
and a good lawyer.

She didn't.

Nobody said she personally killed Bowen.

But she could be an accomplice.

Using my own tranquilizer gun
would be kinda stupid, wouldn't it?

Okay, Paulie, you know where we're goin'.

-Where are you taking me?
-An early lunch.

[cheerful orchestral music]

Separately, it's peanuts, Vince.

Put it together, and we're chokin'.

How did we know Mike Gann
was bettin' all over town?

I can add.

Yeah?

Yeah.

It's Vegas.

Hey, Tony.

How's it goin'?

Tony, take it easy.

Remember your blood pressure.

Anchors Ahoy?

Yeah, I got a little action on it.

Uh, 20 large.

You got 50?

Yeah. I know he's 20-to-1
on the morning line.

Tony, let-let me look into it, okay?

I'll take care of it. Don't worry.

That creep trainer Bowen?

And that lousy vet?

They're tryin' to put over another one.

[bugle sounding]

[bugle sounding]

[horse whinnies]

[horse whinnies]

Take it easy, you boneheaded plug,

or I'll turn you into dinner
for my pet doberman.

Whoa, boy. Whoa.

We got a problem, Mike?

No problem, Jackie boy.
He's sound as a dollar.

Or, in this case, maybe a million.

Here you go, Mr. Bowen.

I want the other bridle, kid,
and bring the blinkers.

Anchors Ahoy never uses blinkers.

Don't argue with me, dummy.
Get the other one.

And don't give me any more lip.

Grooms think they know everything.

Hey, Jack, what the hell is he doing here?

Better get outta sight.

Vince Shackman? This is a surprise.

You like surprises, Bowen? So do I.

Except I like to do the surprising.

Funny, looks like
any other 20-to-1 nag to me.

Except your friend the vet, Mr. Gann,
put 20 big ones down on his nose.

Ah, you know Mike. He likes long shots.

Oh, yeah, yeah. I remember. What was it?

Last year, you, uh, you ran a long shot
and got very lucky.

That horse cost me a couple hundred Gs.

Most of it to Mike Gann.

It happens, Vince. But not today.

Anchors Ahoy is just out for exercise.

I hope so. I hope so.

Because if that nag should
suddenly get hit

by a bolt of lightning and win,

I might come to the conclusion

that there's something
crooked goin' on here.

You're crazy, Vince.
You can't make a horse win.

Now, I don't know
how you did it, but I will.

And when I do, number one:
I'm gonna get my money back.

Number two:
I'm gonna have Mr. Guzmann here

pay you a little visit,

and we'll find out how good
your health insurance is.

-Don't threaten me.
-Threaten you?

Threaten you, Bowen?
Whatever gave you that idea?

[horse whinnies]

Jack, maybe-maybe we should rethink this.

It's a little late for that now.

Anyway, what can he prove? Nothin'.

Well, here you go, Mr. Bowen.

It's about time.

Now take Anchors Ahoy over to the paddock
and get him ready.

So I said to my wife,

if the kid wants
to join the navy, so let him.

You know what a college education
is worth these days?

Go down to the unemployment office
and ask around.

That'll be $21.50, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, thank you, Ernie,
and keep the change.

Thanks. I'm sorry your niece
won't be riding a winner,

but like I said, she's up on a real dog.

Listen, if you're interested,
I got a hot one in the sixth.

I'm not much of a bettor.

That's what I used to say

before my brother-in-law
dragged me to the races.

So now I put my dough
in a money belt under my shorts.

That way I gotta undress
to get to my cash.

Well, that's one way
of holding on to your money.

Are you kiddin'?

If I had a hot one, I'd go to the window
in my birthday suit.

[bugle sounding]

Hey, Tracy!

Aunt Jess! Oh, I can't believe it!

Oh, you're so terrific to come!

Well, did I make the big race?

Absolutely!

Why didn't you tell me?
I would have met you.

Oh, no, no, no.

I was just passing through
on my way to San Francisco,

and Martin told me that

you were still waiting
for your first winner.

Well, I hope I can maybe
bring you some luck.

Oh, I'm gonna need something.
Dad was here last week.

He doesn't think much of
having a jockey in the family.

Oh, well, give him time
to get used to the idea.

Remember when he swore
he'd never use unleaded gas?

[laughs] Yeah.

Oh, there's my friend, Vicky.
Vicky! Vicky!

Vicky! Vicky!

Oh! Men! They drive me crazy.

Especially Latin ones.

And especially the ones I'm married to.

-What's he done now?
-Well, he's sick.

But do you think he'll go to bed?

No, Señor Machismo is going
to try to ride this race.

Aunt Jess, this is my friend,
Vicky Gallegos.

Oh, I'm delighted, Vicky.

-Pleased to meet you too.
-Thank you.

Her husband, Carlos, is a terrific jock.

-He's smart--
-Smart and stubborn.

Maybe if you talked to him, Tracy.

Come on, Vicky,

if you can't get through to him,
nobody can.

[laughs] Oh, you flatterer.

I'm telling you, Mr. Bowen,
my stomach's killing me.

So I'll get you over to the infirmary

right after the race.

Sorry, I don't think I can ride.

Amigo, you have to ride, and you know why.

Anchors Ahoy has got to win this race.

Now listen, Gallegos,

I went to a lot of trouble
to bring you into this country.

And I can send you home again
just as easily.

Do not threaten me.

There are things that I can tell also.

But you won't, Carlos. And you know why?

[grunts]

-Carlos!
[grunting in pain]

Oh!

Oh, what the hell is the matter with you?

It's okay. It's okay.
It's only my stomach.

Oh, honey, you need a doctor!

Oh, yes, you're right.
Where's the infirmary?

-It's right around the corner.
-No, I am okay.

[groans]
-No, Carlos.

Now you're gonna come with me,
and no argument. Come on.

Okay, kid, that's it.

You're taking Carlos' place
on Anchors Ahoy.

Me?

Do I look like I'm talkin'
to Willie Xhoemaker?

Yeah, you.

You want the stakes race, or don't you?

You go ahead, honey.
Carlos is not gonna ride anything today.

Okay, Mr. Bowen. Thank you.

-Aunt Jess...
-Your aunt, huh?

-Oh, nice to meet you.
-Thank you.

Use my box. Just tell the attendant.

Why, thank you. Well, good luck, Tracy.

-Thank you!
-I'll see you after the race.

-Now listen carefully, kid.
-Vicky, I'll give you a hand.

Here's how I want you to ride this race.

I want you to do everything
I tell you, and no questions.

-You understand?
-Yes, Sir.

Fifteen minutes to post.

Number 7, Ivan The Naughty,

will carry an additional weight
of 3 1/4 pounds.

Excuse me.
I wonder, could I borrow your binoculars

-just for a moment?
-Oh, you certainly may.

Oh, you must be a friend of Jack Bowen's.

Uh, I'm Christine Carpenter.
And this is my husband, Cliff.

And you are absolutely right.

I mean, how can you tell
which horse to bet on?

Christine, she just asked
for your binoculars,

not a lecture on handicapping.

Oh, shut up, Cliff.
I'm just trying to be friendly.

Thank you very much.

[laughing]

Thank you very much. I'm Jessica Fletcher.

Oh, I'm pleased to meet you, Jessica.

Oh, Christine, for heaven's sake!

Cliffie, it's right there
for any fool to see,

if you'd only open your eyes.

Excuse me. What's there plainly to see?

Your scarf. Maroon and beige silk.

See, right here, number 5.

Lunch Hour. Maroon and beige silks.

Now that is an omen if I ever saw one.

Oh! Hi, Chris. Hi, Cliff.
Mwah! Kiss, kiss.

I see you three have met already.

And that's not all.

Jessica has given me
my first winner for the day.

Something about the color of my scarf.

I hope the horse knows.

Well, Chris is very deep
into signs and portents.

Personally, I wish she'd learn
to handicap scientifically like me.

Now here's your winner
right here for this race.

It's, uh, Egg Roll.

You see, everybody knows
that winners come in threes.

Now, post six has won twice already.

So it figures the winner of this race

is gonna be post six, Egg Roll.

-Why, yes, of course.
[laughs]

it's very scientific.

How is Carlos?

Oh, he's resting.
They had to pump his stomach.

Something he ate, I guess.

Well, I'm glad it wasn't
anything more serious.

Mm-mmm.

Is Mr. Bowen going to join us here?

Oh, no, he doesn't ever watch
his horses race.

He stands in the paddock near the stall
and hears the race over the loudspeaker.

It seems Mrs. Carpenter

isn't the only superstitious one
around here.

[laughs]

How about that Anchors Ahoy?

Do you think I might risk
a couple of dollars on him?

-You want the truth?
-Mm-hmm.

He's not a 20-to-1 shot for nothin'.

Oh, dear.

And I was hoping that
Tracy finally had a winner.

Well, not this race.

Now, you see, personally,
I like Frost Boy.

See, now, I really think he's ready.

See? He's right down there.

-See, he---
[gasps]

Ooh, I better hurry
if I wanna make my bet.

Those lines can be,
as Carlos would say, "terreeble."

[laughs]

Between you and me,
Frost Boy hasn't got a prayer.

-Oh?
-No. He's a gray.

You see, grays never win on weekdays.

Oh, really? Ah. How odd.

There's been a change
of riders on Anchors Ahoy.

Tracy Macgill
will replace Carlos Gallegos.

There will be no overweight.

And a late scratch, Frost Boy.

Oh. Uh.

Now, remember what I told you, Egg Roll.

Oh, yes. Yes, I'll remember.

Number 3.

Bet's off, Shackman. Let's go.

What the hell do you think you're doing?

This is my track. I keep it clean.

That means I don't want
scum like you hanging around.

Hey, I got as much right
to be here as anybody.

Number 3. Anchors Ahoy. 20-to-1.

What do you know that nobody else knows?

I had a hunch, that's all. I had a hunch.

Ah, come on, you dirt bag.

That's a lot of action you're layin' off.

Now, what's going on?

I'm a racin' fan, that's all.
I'm a racin' fan.

And your pals in Vegas,
they're all philanthropists.

Now let's hit the bricks. Come on.

Go ahead. Push it.

It's been a long time since I've been able

-to rearrange somebody's face.
-What is this?

Specially one as pretty as you.

Two minutes to post.

Oh, Vicky, I'm sorry about Frost Boy.

Why, what about him?

Well, didn't you hear the announcement?

-No.
-He's been scratched.

Oh! Well, I guess I can get
a refund after the old race.

Now I can help you cheer on Tracy.

Honey, she's going to need
all the cheers she can get.

Mr. Phillips, we got a fistfight
on the second level.

One of them has got a knife.
I'm gonna need some backup.

We're on our way.

Get out of here, Shackman.

I catch you around here again,
I will not be so friendly.

The flag is up.

[energetic orchestral music]

[horse hooves thundering]

She's... she's coming up!

[cheering]

[cheering]

I can hardly believe it! She won!

Me either! Somebody must've said a novena!

Champagne is definitely in order.

Maybe even caviar.

Do you know how much she just won?

Ten percent of the purse.
That's 5,000 buckaroos!

Hey! Hey! We're needing a doctor!

Mr. Bowen's back in the stall.

Looks like he's passed out or something!

What?

[gasps] Oh!

[shrieks]

All right, folks, can you open up?
Let me through.

Let the gentleman through, please.

-Hi, Pat.
-Lieutenant.

Oh, nasty.

Aunt Jess! What's going on?

Somebody said that Mr. Bowen is dead.

I'm afraid it's true, Tracy.
He was murdered.

Murdered? Oh, no! By why?

Mrs. Fletcher,
the police would like to talk to you.

Oh, yes, of course.
Tracy, I'll be right back.

Mrs. Fletcher. Lieutenant Misko, homicide.

I understand you found the body.

Yes, that's right.

Did you move it?

Well, I turned him over
to see if he was alive.

And the groom found you
out at the paddock.

Is that right?

Oh, yes. I was on my way
to congratulate my niece.

-She won the last race.
-Oh, your niece.

-That'll be Tracy Macgill.
-Yes.

So what happened to Carlos Gallegos?

Well, he became ill.

Mr. Bowen had to change riders
at the last minute.

Is that right?

So tell me exactly what you saw and did.

Oh, well...

Well, I saw Mr. Bowen

lying right there on his side... Dead.

How did you know he was dead?

Well, actually, I didn't
until I turned him over

and saw the tranquilizer dart
sticking out of his chest.

I suspect, you see, that he tried to turn,

staggered towards
the back wall of the stall,

probably to get to his jacket,

which is hanging right here on the wall.

This is what you suspect?

Well, I did happen to notice
there was a very heavy object

in the right hand pocket,
and I thought it might be a gun.

Uh, also Lieutenant, look.

This is just pure speculation on my part.

You sound more like an eyewitness.

You were saying "also" what?

Well, with the straw
mussed on the floor as it is,

and the dirt on the knees of his trousers,

all of this suggested
that he tried to crawl,

then he tried to stand up
in that direction.

Grabbed for his jacket,
but didn't make it.

No kidding.

Lieutenant, if you will simply
please just take a look

at those fingernail scratches
on this plank,

and then look at the tips of his fingers.

I mean, they are raw and bloody.

What are you, some kind of cop?

No. No. I'm a writer.

Novelist. Mystery. Murder mystery.

I get it. Like Charlie Chan, huh?

Swell.

Lieutenant, is there a gun in that pocket?

Lieutenant Misko, we've located
Mike Gann, the veterinarian.

-Did you check the bag?
-Mm-hmm.

His tranquilizer gun is missing.

Well, how about that?

Mrs. Fletcher, you may go.

Thank you very much for your assistance.

Oh, well, I'm delighted to help.

You've given me more help than I'll need.

Well, believe me, Lieutenant,

I have no intention
of butting in to your case.

My gut tells me different.
Maybe it's indigestion.

Look, I don't know
what you're talking about.

I was put on that mount
20 minutes before post time.

We're prepared to take
your statement, miss Macgill.

Tracy, what's the problem?

-Aunt Jessica--
-Excuse me, ma'am,

this is track business.

They think the race was fixed,

and that I had something to do with it.
Oh, that's ridiculous.

Miss Macgill, I'm not going
to discuss this matter

in full view of the general public
or your relatives.

I suggest you come with me now,
or I'll be forced to suspend you.

Well, you go ahead, Tracy.

I'm sure this thing
can be straightened out.

Mr. Phillips, Lieutenant, over here!

Okay, so the tranquilizer gun
is mine. Big deal.

I mean, obviously someone
stole it from my bag.

I worked around that paddock all morning.

I didn't watch my bag every minute.

Anybody anybody could've taken it.

What's the matter, Gann?

You and Bowen have a falling out?

Oh, come on, Pat.

I mean, I just work for the guy,
you know. That's it.

I had no reason on earth to kill this man.

Using my own tranquilizer gun

would be kinda stupid, wouldn't it?

Who said a killer has to be smart?

Where were you during the race?

I was at the rail.

I'm always at the rail. He knows that.

-You got any witnesses?
-Do I have any witnesses?

Of course I got a witness.
I got hundreds of witnesses.

But don't ask for their names.

I mean, when a race is going,

those railbirds don't even know
if it's snowing.

Get off my back.

"The unexpected victory of Anchors Ahoy,

coupled with the murder
of the horse's trainer,

Jack Bowen,
prompted the racing commission today

to suspend apprentice jockey Tracy Macgill
pending the outcome of a hearing."

Well, that's not exactly due process.

I don't understand it, aunt Jess.

All the postrace tests were negative.

They know Anchors Ahoy was not drugged.

-The only thing...
-What?

There was something strange
about that race today.

In what way?

Anchors Ahoy is a speed horse.
He's a frontrunner.

But right before the race,
Mr. Bowen came to me,

and he told me to hold him back
in fifth or sixth position,

and then on the far turn,
make a run for it.

Perhaps Mr. Bowen retrained
the horse after his last race.

You don't change training procedures

for a horse like that. It's in the blood.

They either come from behind,
or they don't.

I thought Mr. Bowen was crazy.
I couldn't believe it

when Anchors Ahoy actually won the race.

Look, I'm gonna tell you
all I know, which isn't much,

and which might not be so good
for your niece maybe.

But before the race, Mike Gann, the vet,

came in to check out Anchors Ahoy,

which is very unusual.

And then Vince Shackman came around

to check out Anchors Ahoy,

which is even more unusual.

And when Gann saw Shackman,
he hightailed it

and hid out in the next stall.

Shackman? I don't know that name.

Well, he's just about
the biggest bookie in the city

with connections to Vegas

and somebody you do not
want to mess around with.

Hey, Milford, don't you have
anything better to do

than go around spreading gossip?

What are you, my father?

I thought lieutenant Misko told you
to stay out of this case, Mrs. Fletcher.

That was before Tracy was suspended
on totally ridiculous charges.

Oh, I almost forgot.

Another weird thing is that
Mr. Phillips here cashed in

about 500 bucks' worth of tickets

-on ol' Anchors Ahoy's nose.
-That's a lie.

I got it straight from Pinky Stillman.

Window 8.

He cashed those tickets personally.

Isn't that rather unusual, Mr. Phillips?

Maybe even unethical for a security chief
to bet on the races,

particularly one as tainted
as this one seems to have been?

Look, I caught a bookie
by the name of Vince Shackman

trying to lay off some very heavy action.

Now, obviously, the fix was in,

so after I escorted him to the gate,
I put down a bet.

I knew nothing could be done
about it then,

so why shouldn't I make a few bucks?

And, of course, you reported
all this to the officials

right after the race.

No, I was distracted

by somebody discovering a dead body.

Besides, whether or not I put down a bet
is not gonna clear your niece.

Everyone knows when a race is fixed

that the jockey's right
in the middle of it.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I would
advise you to get a good lawyer.

That kid's gonna need one.

So, Mrs. Fletcher,

are you sure I can't get you
something to eat?

Oh, no, thank you. I ate a huge breakfast.

Carlos, you certainly look much better.

Well, I feel terrific.

Whatever it was, I got rid of it quick.

Oh, you're lucky.

Sometimes it can hang on for a whole week.

Will you be riding soon?

Maybe this afternoon. I'm waiting to hear.

So what can we do for you?

Well, if I'm going to help Tracy,

I have to find out what happened
yesterday afternoon.

And, as you can guess,

I know absolutely nothing
about horse racing.

So I need advice from both of you.

Is it possible that that race
could have been fixed?

No way.

The test for drugs was negative.
And the tattoo matched.

-Tattoo?
[chuckles]

You're right.
You know nothing about racing.

Every racehorse must have
a number tattooed on his lip.

That way another horse, uh, uh...
How do you call it?

A ringer, darlin'.

Yes, a ringer cannot be put in his place.

Oh, I see.

Carlos, do you have any idea
why Mr. Bowen picked Tracy

over a more experienced jockey
to ride Anchors Ahoy?

[sighs]

I wouldn't know.

Look, if there's something
that I should be aware of,

please, do tell me.

Well, Carlos.

Okay.

I never get sick a day in my life.

One hour before the race,
I get sick like a dog. Why?

Carlos thinks Tracy
might have slipped him a mickey.

Oh! I can't believe that.

Riding Anchors Ahoy was a step up.

It should have been
a very big break for her.

Oh, we're sorry.

We think the world of Tracy, really.

But you saw her!

I mean, you saw how totally
surprised she was

when Mr. Bowen chose her
to ride that horse.

Yes, it certainly looked that way.

Ma'am, there is nothing to see.

Anchors Ahoy is just another horse.

Yeah, but I wanna check his ID Tattoo.

Oh, you've been taking an education class?

Well, you're also wasting your time,
but go ahead.

What's goin' on?

The lady is playing detective again.

[horse whinnies]
-You need some help, Mrs. F?

Well, I'm trying to get
a peek at his lip, Cookie.

The thing is, you gotta be nice to him.

Now, this horse happens
to be crazy for carrots.

-Oh!
[laughs]

Yeah, boy.

-Right.
-Okay.

Do you think that we're idiots?

The first thing we checked
was that ID Number.

Mr. Phillips, do you think it's possible

that two horses could have
the same ID Number?

Not in my track. Go home, Mrs. Fletcher.

Leave the detective work
to the professionals.

I wish I could, Mr. Phillips,

but you and lieutenant Misko
have so much to cover,

I thought I could be of some help.

Oh, by the way, there is one little thing
that's been bothering me.

Only one? Glad to hear it.

You said you made your bet on Anchors Ahoy

after you dropped Mr. Shackman
near the gate.

Well, it's the strangest thing.

You see, I paced out the distance

to the nearest betting window,
and really, Mr. Phillips,

I don't see how you could
possibly have made it in time

to get your bet down.

I mean, with the long lines and all.

All right.

I placed the bet earlier in the day
at the advance ticket window.

Then you did know that the race was fixed
before you collared Mr. Shackman.

That's what you say.
I say I had a lucky hunch.

That was pretty smart, Mrs. F.
You nailed him good.

Unfortunately, not good enough, Cookie.

Uh, carrot, Mrs. F?

[horse chomps]

Mr. P. It's good to see you.

How's everything in Vegas?

Vincenzo, I told you
to take care of Bowen.

I didn't tell you to ice the guy.

Sir, excuse me. It wasn't me.

But you know who it was.
I don't know who it was.

It could've been anybody. I swear.

I mean, he wasn't exactly Mr. Popular.

Vincenzo, I'm honestly
disappointed in you.

A man takes us
for several hundred thousand

in two questionable races,
and you have no idea how it was done.

And now you claim
that the ultimate retaliation

was perpetrated by some other party.

-I'm sorry, Sir. I mean, I--
-I have been asked by Mr. W...

Mr. W?

...personally to ask you
to discover the secret

of the late Mr. Bowen's success
in order to make certain

that we are never victimized
in such a manner again.

I told him you would be honored
to do this favor for him.

Well, yes, Sir. The only thing is, I...
You know, I...

Mr. W thanks you
for your diligent effort on his behalf.

Dad, I'm all right. Honest!

Dad, will y-- I'm telling--

Dad, will you please listen?

[whispers] Let me talk to him.

Martin.
I'm just fine, and you should be too.

Now, don't you worry.
No, Tracy is perfectly all right.

We'll have this thing unraveled
in a day or so.

Oh, absolutely.

No, no, no. Don't hop on the first plane.

No, leave this thing to us.

Good. Now, don't you worry.

And I'll call you in a day or so.

Fine.

Just what we need, an hysterical father.

[horse whinnies]

Hello, Lieutenant.

I didn't know you played the horses.

Well, actually, I don't.

I used to until I lost my car,
my house, my wife.

So tell me, what brings you out here?

Are you looking for a clue
I may have overlooked?

Believe me, Lieutenant,
I am not competing with you.

-But I do have a theory.
-I'm sure you do.

Well, I'm about to check it out,
and you're welcome to join me.

Are you kidding?

I wouldn't miss it for the world.

You are gonna let me know
when you figure this out, aren't you?

Well, there's no need to be sarcastic.

That, lady, is a matter of opinion.

[horse snorts]

Of course Mr. Gallegos was really sick.

We had to pump his stomach.

Was it possible that
he could've been drugged?

Possible?

Honey, he had a belly full
of chloral hydrate.

If you ask me,
somebody didn't want that man

to ride in that race.

[phone ringing]

Excuse me.

You knew about the chloral hydrate.

This is my case, remember?

I suppose you reported that
to the racing commission?

Well, of course.

Now you tell me, Mrs. Fletcher,

what did Carlos Gallegos's Mickey Finn
have to do with Jack Bowen's death?

Suppose Carlos needed an alibi.

What better one than being
incapacitated in an infirmary.

You heard the nurse.

She said Gallegos was sick as a dog.

How long did it take
to run that race yesterday?

Just under two minutes. Why?

Then Carlos could've
sneaked out of that door,

run across the paddock, killed Bowen,

and still made it back
before the race was over.

If that nurse had watched
the race on the tv screen,

she never would've missed him.

What makes you think
I was watching the race?

Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this was yours.

Look, lady, when I'm on duty,
I stay where I belong.

I do my betting early in the morning
at the advance window.

And maybe I didn't have my eyes
on the little fella every second,

but believe me,
he was too sick to go anywhere.

Taxi!

St. Francis hotel, please.

[gasps]

Okay, Paulie,
you know where we're goin'.

-Where are you taking me?
-For an early lunch.

That really was
a boat race, Mrs. Fletcher.

A boat race?

Yeah. That's a race that's been fixed.

How'd your niece do it?

Mr. Shackman, that is not only
very presumptuous but very rude.

From what I hear, you've been
making a pest of yourself.

You talk to Gallegos. You talk to Cookie.

You talk to the nurse in the infirmary.

You even stick your head
in the horse's mouth.

You seem to know more about it
than I do, maybe more.

But I don't know enough.

See, I lost a lot of money on that race.

Not as much as
certain friends in las Vegas

who really took a bath
and who hold me personally responsible.

Well, I'm sorry, but there's
nothing that I can do.

Mrs. Fletcher, now, to you,
I may look like a bad guy,

but I'm a normal person just like you are.

I own a house with a mortgage.
I drive a nice car.

My wife is a Kvetch, but I love her.
My eldest is going to dental school.

My daughter is heavily into ballet.

But this Bowen thing
is messing everything up.

And it's messing up
my niece Tracy as well.

If I thought she iced the guy,

I'd give her a bunch of roses
and a good lawyer.

She didn't.

She must know something
about the race, anything,

because if she doesn't,
in the next couple of days,

my wife may be heavily
into mourning and grieving.

-What?
[whispering indistinctly]

You sure?

All right, okay.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher,
you're the one who may need a lawyer.

Well, what do you mean?

Well, now it's not just
the racing commission,

but the Lieutenant brought
your niece in for questioning.

And the subject of
the interrogation was murder.

They found a bottle of
chloral hydrate in my locker.

Somebody must've planted it
and then tipped off Phillips.

Somebody is certainly going
to an awful lot of trouble

to implicate you in fixing that race.

That's not all.
Lieutenant Misko is convinced

that I am somehow involved
in Mr. Bowen's murder.

That's ridiculous!

Lieutenant Misko is
in desperate need of therapy.

Aunt Jess, I'm scared.

I mean, they could find
more planted evidence.

If somebody's out to frame me

nobody's going to frame you,
Tracy, I promise.

And in the home stretch, it's Far Cry!

Uh, Lieutenant Misko.

What's the matter? You lose something?

No. This time I won.
See, the last two years

I've been keeping track of my bets
in this little black book.

Not with real money.

Because with real money, I'd be what?

$350,000 in the hole.

But I figure that's how much I'm ahead.

-Good therapy.
-Yeah.

But every once in a while
a big winner comes along

and spoils your fun.

I hate it when that happens.

So you have a big whizbang
idea you wanna lay on me?

Well, how about some good
oldfashioned common sense?

May I remind you that Tracy
was astride a horse

in full view of 40,000 people
when Jack Bowen was murdered.

Nobody said she personally killed Bowen.

But she could be an accomplice.

Lieutenant, it's obvious.

The chloral hydrate was planted.

Tracy had nothing to do
with fixing the race

and nothing to do with the murder.

Obvious to you, maybe.
Me, I read it otherwise.

She saw her chance at a big stakes race.

-She knew the fix was in and--
-And?

Slipped the drug
into Carlos Gallegos's coffee

because her crystal ball
told her that Jack Bowen

might unexpectedly pick her
out of all the jockeys

at the racetrack to ride Anchors Ahoy?
That is hogwash, Lieutenant.

Mrs. Fletcher, I am a hunch player.

Maybe all the little details
don't fit together,

but I have a feeling about this case.

Now, your niece is all I have
until something better comes along.

So please stay out of my way.

Yeah, well, I'm sorry.
But Tracy is not gonna become

just another little lost bet
in your little black book.

And since I'm wasting
my time here with you,

I suppose I had better
go to the source of the trouble.

Uh, excuse me, I think you
missed a turn back there.

We've already been down there.

Well, Mr. Gann's farm has got
to be along here somewhere.

I think we're supposed to turn
at a large oak tree.

Lady, this valley is full
of large oak trees.

[horn blaring]

where'd you get your license,
from the braille institute?

How'd you like to wear that steering wheel
for a bow tie?

Come on. Let's get outta here.

[tires squealing]

Mr. Gann?

Mr. Gann?

[horses snorting, sniffing]

Ooh, I think I recognize you.

I bet you'd like a carrot, wouldn't you?

[horse snorts]

[breathing heavily]

That one doesn't like carrots.

It's the only real difference between him
and the real Anchors Ahoy.

It's too bad you figured it out, lady.

That presents problems...

[cocks gun]

...for both of us.

I think you should know that
I didn't come here alone, Mr. Gann.

Well, you're alone now.
[coughs]

I gave your cab driver a very big tip
and sent him on his way.

Oh, dear.

It seems that Mr. Shackman
gave you quite a beating.

No, Guzmann.
Guzmann does his dirty work.

It was Guzmann.

And did you tell him
the truth about the race?

You think I'd be standing
here now if I had?

I have to admit, Mr. Gann,
that was a very clever scheme.

You know, switching horses that way.

I mean, how did you manage it?
The tattoo, I mean.

Yeah.

Well, Bowen had connections
in South America, you see.

And down there, they don't tattoo or ID.

Oh, yes. Of course.

You merely had to pick up a lookalike
that was faster than the American horse,

tattoo his lip with the identical number,
and nobody would be any the wiser.

You catch on good.

You catch on too good.

Nobody else knew about the race,
just you and Mr. Bowen?

And Carlos Gallegos.

My goodness! That nice young man?

Yeah, nice and crooked,
except he had no choice.

Jack brought him up from Panama illegally.

He would either ride
or get shipped back home.

Yes, of course.

But this last race, somebody made sure
that he didn't ride Anchors Ahoy,

somebody who wanted to see Mr. Bowen dead.

Not me, lady. Not me.

I swear to God.
I had no reason to kill Jack.

Oh, but you're prepared
to commit murder, right?

That is what is on your mind,
isn't it, Mr. Gann?

If there were any other way, I'd take it,
but I'm not going to jail.

No way.

Now, Black Anvil here
doesn't like people much,

especially strangers.

If I'm lucky,

the police will figure
you just started snooping

in the wrong place, the wrong time.

Well, I'm not sure that
the police are that gullible.

[gate lock clatters]

Well, I guess I'm betting that they are.

-Hyah! Hyah!
[yelling]

[horse squealing]

[yelling]

Drop it, Gann!

[horse squealing]

[gasps]

[horse snorting]

Okay, all right. Oh...

It's okay.

[sighs]

Oh, surely you don't think that
Gann murdered Mr. Bowen?

Right now he looks pretty good to me.

Oh, no.

Gann confessed everything to me
except Bowen's murder.

I mean, knowing that
he intended to kill me,

he hardly would have felt
the need to deny it.

Well, all right, if it wasn't Gann,
it had to be Gallegos.

I've been thinking about his alibi.

You're right.

He could've slipped out, killed Bowen,
and been back before the race was over.

Anyway, I'm gonna question him
about his part in fixing the race.

Want to come along?

[chuckles] No, thanks.

And that is a grudging offer at best.

[both chuckle]

No, I wanna spend some time with Tracy.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, do me a favor.
If you get any more brilliant theories,

and you want go snooping on your own,
let me know first, please.

If I don't have advance warning,
next time I might not be able to help you.

You have my word.

Lieutenant, you're right.
You are absolutely right.

What?

On second thoughts,

I will go along with you.

And thank you very much for inviting me.

With Gann's statement, I already have you

on conspiracy to fix
a horse race and illegal entry.

Okay, but I didn't kill anybody!

I was sick in the infirmary
when Jack got it.

You're just looking for
somebody to hang this murder on

because you haven't done your job!

We'll let a court decide
if I've done my job or not.

Carlos would never kill anybody!

I agree, Vicky.

Carlos was frightened and desperate.

That's why he agreed to
Mr. Bowen's extortion.

But both you and I know that
he couldn't have killed Jack Bowen.

And I also think that
we both know who did.

-No, I-I don't know.
-Don't you?

The race that Tracy won
shortly before post time,

you went off to place a bet
on a horse called Frost Boy.

Do you still have that ticket?
Well, sure I got that ticket.

I got it right here in my purse here.

I just, I just haven't had
time to get my refund yet.

The horse was scratched
at the last minute.

Ah, see. Here it is right here.

I thought you'd be holding on to this.

Come on. What are you sayin'?

What's your point, Mrs. Fletcher?

This ticket was supposed
to be Vicky's alibi.

The trouble is, it's phony.

That's a genuine ticket!
Now, you look at it!

Oh, it's genuine, all right,

but you didn't buy it
just before the race.

You didn't have time.

You left the box to place your bet,

and less than a minute later,
the horse was scratched.

Now, given the crowds and the long lines,

you couldn't have made it to the window
before the scratch,

and the machine never
would have issued a ticket

on a scratched horse.

No, Vicky, I suspect
that you purchased that ticket

a lot earlier in the day

at one of the advanced betting windows

because you knew you were
going to kill Jack Bowen.

No.

Querida?

No, this is not true.

Carlos, I'm sorry.
I had to do it to protect you.

[sobbing]

Would you like to tell us
about it, Mrs. Gallegos?

When Carlos was still riding in Panama,

he got into some trouble
and had to have some money.

So he agreed to bump
another horse during the race.

Only something went wrong
and the other horse went down,

and the other jockey got badly hurt.

He almost died.

That's when I met Jack Bowen.
I changed my name.

I come to this country to ride for him.

And then whwhen he came up
with these horses,

these ringers, what could I do?

He threatened to send me back to Panama.

And you drugged Carlos

so that he would have
a legitimate excuse not to ride.

I put chloral hydrate in his coffee.

Only Bowen wouldn't believe
that Carlos was really sick.

And so he threatened to get even
by turning him over to immigration.

Well, what could I do?
I couldn't let that happen.

And later you planted
the drug in Tracy's locker.

Mrs. Fletcher, I love Tracy,
but I had to protect my husband.

[sobbing] Carlos, I'm so sorry.

I can't believe it.

A couple of days ago,
I was in jail for murder,

and today I have two mounts,

and I might even win
my first race legitimately.

And I am going to be here to see it.

[both laugh]

though I'm not sure
I'm much of a good luck charm.

Oh, yoohoo!

-Mrs. Fletcher, hello!
-Oh, hello!

You know, it must be fate
we've run into you,

and definitely an omen.

What's your astrological sign?

M-my sign? Pisces, the last time I looked.

Oh, I knew it!

Fish Fry's running in the fourth race!

That's my mount. I'm a pisces too.

You're kidding.

You're Tracy Macgill.

Tracy Macgill?

Get it?

She's also a pisces riding Fish Fry.

That's amazing!

You know something, Christine?

I think you're finally onto something!

Come on.

[laughing]

You know there's one thing
I will never understand,

and that is the superstition
of horse players.

-Absolutely silly, aunt Jess.
-Absolutely.

On the other hand,
I-I must, I must admit...

Oh, dear. I'm getting hooked.

[both laughing]