Orphen

Races

Swish, swish, swish, I wrestled the mop along the boards. I had gotten stronger since Mr. and Mrs. Marconi fed me and gave me jobs to do. I tried not to splatter the puddles very big. Mr. Marconi didn't like that and his voice vibrated the floor when he got angry. I wanted to avoid making Mr. Marconi angry. He sat in the corner and talked and talked on the phone. He seemed agitated already today.

Four men with laptops skittered into the shop and sat down at Mr. Marconi's table. I tried to focus but they had computers and I like computers. I listened quietly while I mopped slowly.

"There's somethin' wrong with tha books," The tiny man with the rat face scowled.

Mr. Marconi frowned and his face reddened. "Whaddya mean there's somethin' wrong with tha books?"

The tiny man winced and looked at a greasy balding man, "Louie, tell him what ya told me."

"Well, Mr.Marconi, Jones won all his bets at the races again this week. Third week in a row. We think he's figured out tha fix."

Mr. Marconi, face on the verge of explosion, inquired, "Did ya send Vinnie to do him?"

Louie braced himself, "Jones has some lawyer. He's threatening to expose us and Louie is out of town on that Chillman job. He won't be back till Tuesday."

A tall stiltish man piped in, "I thought his consultation finished on Sunday?"

Louie laughed, "I think he's got a girl. Gonna give her a li'll extra some."

Mr. Marconi frowned. "That lawyer's going to want to see tha books."

The fourth giant man stuttered, "Tha b-b-books is in order Mr. Marconi. There's nothin' alegal about em. J-j-just a record of tha w-winnings, tha's all. You c-can't f-figure out which horses were set f-f-from just tha b-books."

Mr. Marconi shifted, his extra weight bulging over the sides of the chair. "If that were so, there'd be no reason for Mr. Jones to get a lawyer."

"Maybe he's working for tha polizia."

"If it's la polizia, we better get Vinnie to do him."

"If V-V-Vinnie does em, then we would b-b-b-be implicat-ted. B-better t-to hire an outsider t-ta do it. B-b-butt if they want t-ta see tha b-books, tha polizia won't f-find nothin'."

Marconi creaked forward, "You sure they won't see the races are set?"

The mousey looking fellow laughed, "He-he, they would need a mathematician! We've been runnin' true winners about half tha time. And the other half is on Giorgio's system." He tried to reach up and slap the giant man on the back but he barely made it above his buttocks. "I jus don't see how they coulda figured it out."

The tall pointy fellow spoke up, "If Jones figured out how we're fixin it, we need ta send someone out on Jones and change tha system so evidence is covered."

Marconi narrowed his eyes, "I'll contact Rodrigo and see if one of his people can take tha job on Jones, but how're we gonna fix this book error? Just run straight races for awhile? I don't wanna lose tha money!"

I had mopped my way close to the table and when I saw the computer screen the big man held, had stopped mopping all together. There were numbers on the screen, like the ones at the labs. They had made me play with them for hours and hours making them right. They were only happy when I made the numbers fit together right.

This list was letters and then a number and then either a W or an L. I lost myself in the pattern, a great sea of beautiful shining digits. They must have meant that Jones was 'JJ' on this list because he had a list of W's by his name and no one else had consistent W's. One, two, three, yes! Every third listing of names, JJ was the only winner at all. Something happened every third time.

"Uhhhh, Mr. Marconi w-w-what's your new li'll girl d-doing. She's j-just starin' at tha computer mumblin' one, t-t-t-two, three over and over."

"Not sure," Mr.Marconi yanked me by the back of the dress so he could see my face. He peered curiously at me. I thought he might be seeing the monitor of my soul light up for a moment. Then he boomed, "Hey kid, what're ya doin'?"

"Numbers, there's a pattern in the numbers." I stared at my feet. Mr. Marconi usually got mad when I didn't mop attentively.

"Kid, are you saying that you understand these numbers?"

I shivered, "Yessir. I like numbers."

Mr. Marconi lifted my chin so I could see his great big grin, "Can you help Giorgo fix these numbers so that they don't have a pattern?"

 I shook my head.