Page 66 of No Rules
Alex leaned into his touch, almost purring like a kitten. The boy loved to be touched, and Ryan couldn’t get enough of touching him. So weird. Alex had become an addiction.
Alex sat up straight. “If he was there in person, does that mean he could’ve placed his bets in person?”
Damn, Ryan hadn’t thought of that. “It could. If he was bold enough to show his face, he might’ve been careless enough to do that. But even then, we know from the papers Baxter sent us that none of the bets paid out over fifty thousand.”
Alex’s face fell. “True. Though I gotta say, that’s still a lot of money. And if he did make a bet, we could at least see who he bet on, right? Didn’t Marilyn mention she had a friend who worked the betting windows? Maybe they’d remember if Jeffries placed any bets that day.”
“She did.” Ryan riffled through the papers. “His name was…Clyde Watson. But I don’t have his number, so let me call her and ask for Clyde’s contact info.”
Ryan dialed Marilyn’s number, his jaw clenched. “Hey, Marilyn,” he said when she picked up. “I need a favor. I need contact info for your friend Clyde Watson. We’re hoping he can tell us more about the betting activities that day.”
“He can’t tell you much because of confidentiality issues, but I’m sure he’ll be willing to share what he can.”
Marilyn gave him the details, and Ryan thanked her, then disconnected the call. “Got it. Let’s do this.”
Ryan dialed Clyde’s number and put the phone on speaker.
“Hello?” Clyde’s voice came through the speaker, wary and uncertain.
“Hey, Clyde, my name is Ryan Mason. I got your number from Marilyn Vandervliet, who hired me to investigate the death of Sam’s Promise. I was hoping I could ask you some questions about betting activities that day.”
“I’m not sure how much I can tell you,” Clyde said. “I have a confidentiality clause in my contract, and they can sue me if I break it.”
“No one will know it came from you, and also, I only have a few very specific questions.”
Clyde hesitated, and Ryan could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “What kind of information are you looking for?”
“We believe a man named Charles Jeffries might be involved, and we were hoping you could tell us more about him.”
“Jeffries? Yeah, he hangs around the track all the time,” Clyde confirmed, his voice tinged with disdain. “He’s not exactly a stand-up guy, if you know what I mean, and not someone you want to mess with. He’s got connections in this business, and he doesn’t like people poking their noses where they don’t belong.”
“Can you remember if Jeffries placed a bet on the day Sam’s Promise died?”
“He did. He went all in against Sam’s Promise, who ran as a favorite.”
“You must have an exceptional memory if you can remember everyone’s bets on a busy day like that.” Ryan didn’t want to blindly assume Clyde was telling the truth.
“Nah, no way, but like I said, Jeffries is a regular. He’s always going big on the races, trying to make a quick buck. And that day, he won big. Like, really big. One of the biggest sums I’ve ever handed out. That’s why I remember it. He had multiple tickets that needed to be paid out. I had to get my boss to sign off on it, but it was all legit.” Then he gasped. “Wait, are you saying he knew…? Holy shit, if he knew Sam’s Promise was gonna die, he rigged that bet.”
“Yeah. And that’s the least of the crimes he would’ve committed that day,” Ryan said. “Was there anything unusual about his behavior that you can remember? Anyone he hung out with?”
“I thought it was a little strange he was cashing multiple tickets, especially since they were pretty much the same bets. He didn’t place his bets with me that day, so I don’t know if he did multiple in a row or what. But I do remember he wasn’t alone. There was another guy with him, a dude I’d seen before. Can’t for the life of me remember his name though.”
“Damn,” Ryan muttered under his breath. “Anything you can tell us about this dude? Height, hair color, anything?”
“He’s a regular at the track too. In fact, he’s a… He had a red pass, so he had back access. Gimme a sec. I’m trying to remember.”
“Take all the time you need.”
“I was in my booth,” Clyde mumbled. “When he cashed the bet, this dude was with him but stayed in the background. He didn’t come up to the window. Jeffries was in a good mood, joking. I remember because he never does that. It took us longer than usual to pay out because of the accident. The track was shut down for at least an hour. So when we opened, there was a long line of people wanting to cash their winnings, and Jeffries had to wait a while. Even that hadn’t soured his mood.”
Ryan patiently waited. Clyde was clearly playing the events from that day in his head, which would hopefully help him remember more details.
“He was wearing a dark blue polo shirt, the other guy. With a… He had a white coat under his arm. Thornfield, that’s it. Victor Thornfield. He’s a vet.”
“A vet? And you’re saying he had back access before the race?”
“Yeah. He had a red pass, so that means he would’ve been allowed in the back. Probably because he’s a vet. He’s a regular at the track too, or at least, he used to be.” Clyde made a sound of sympathy. “Poor guy lost bet after bet. I was getting a bit worried, what with the amounts he was gambling away, but I guess he can afford it, huh?”