Murder, She Wrote (1984–1996): Season 2, Episode 8 - Dead Heat - full transcript

You see, grays never
win on weekdays.

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?

Paulie, you know where we're
goin'. Where are you taking me?

An early lunch.

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.

♪

Take it easy, you
bone-headed 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 G's.

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?

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.

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.

♪

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—give him
time to get used to the idea.

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

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. 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.

Carlos!

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.

No, Carlos. You're gonna
come with me and no argument.

- Come on.
- Okay, kid. That's it.

You're taking Carlos's
place on Anchors Ahoy.

Me? Do I look like I'm
talkin' to Willie Shoemaker?

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 three and one-quarter 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.

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.

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.

It's, uh, very scientific.

Uh, how is Carlos?

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

Somethin' 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.

How about that Anchors Ahoy?

Do you think I might, uh,
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— Ooh, I better
hurry if I wanna make my bet.

Those lines can be, as
Carlos would say, "ter-ree-ble."

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 hangin' around.

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

Now, what's goin' 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.

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.

She's—She's coming up!

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 somethin'!

What?

Oh!

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. Uh, 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, uh...

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, uh, "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— 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?

Lt. 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 then 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? 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.

You go ahead, Tracy. I'm sure
this thing can be straightened out.

Mr. Phillips,
Lieutenant, over here!

Okay, so the
tranquilizer gun's 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 post-race
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 front-runner.

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

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 Lt. 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 nothin' 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?

You're right. You know
nothin ‘about racin'.

Every racehorse must have
a number tattooed on his lip.

That way another horse, a—a...

- 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?

I wouldn't know.

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

please, uh, 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...

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 I.D. tattoo.

Oh, you've been taking
an education class?

Well, you're also
wasting your time.

But, uh, go ahead.

- What's goin' on?
- The lady is playing detective again.

You need some help, Mrs. "F"?

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

The thing is you
gotta be nice to him.

Now, this horse happens
to be crazy for carrots. Oh!

Yeah, boy.

Right. Okay.

Do you think that we're idiots?

The first thing we checked
was that I.D. number.

Mr. Phillips, do you
think it's possible that

two horses could have
the same I.D. 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 Lt. 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.

Pretty smart, Mrs. "F."
You nailed him good.

Unfortunately, not
good enough, Cookie.

Uh, carrot, Mrs. "F"?

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 modestly
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...

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.

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 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. There's no need to be sarcastic.

That, lady, is a
matter of opinion.

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.

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— 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.

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 messin' 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... 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. Lt.
Misko is convinced...

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

That's ridiculous!

Lt. 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, Lt. 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 whiz-bang idea you wanna lay on me?

Well, how about some good
old-fashioned 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.

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.

Mr. Gann? Mr. Gann?

Ooh, I think I recognize you.

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

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...

for both of us.

I think you should know that...

I didn't come here
alone, Mr. Gann.

Well, you're alone now.

I gave your cabdriver 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 I.D.

Oh, yes. Of course.

You merely had to
pick up a look-alike...

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, uh, 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, uh, 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.

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

Hyah! Hyah!

Drop it, Gann.

It's okay.

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.

Uh, wanna come along?

No, thanks.

And that is a
grudging offer at best.

No, I wanna spend
some time with Tracy.

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

and you wanna 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 lookin' for
somebody to hang this 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, uh— 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.

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 wh-when 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.

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.

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

Oh, yoo-hoo!

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?

Uh, m-my sign? Uh,
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 Mac gill?

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.

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
must—I must admit...

Oh, dear. I'm getting hooked.