"Everybody in town seems to know Bush is going to dive," I said. "I saw a hundred put on Cooper at four to one a few minutes ago." I leaned past Rolff and put my mouth close to where the gray fur collar hid the girl's ear, whispering: "The dive is off. Better copper your bets while there's time."
Her big bloodshot eyes went wide and dark with anxiety, greed, curiosity, suspicion.
"You mean it?" she asked huskily.
"Yeah." She chewed her reddened lips, frowned, asked:
"Where'd you get it?"
I wouldn't say. She chewed her mouth some more and asked:
"Is Max on?"
"I haven't seen him. Is he here?"
"I suppose so," she said absent-mindedly, a distant look in her eyes. Her lips moved as if she were counting to herself.
I said: "Take it or leave it, but it's a gut."
She leaned forward to look sharply into my eyes, clicked her teeth together, opened her bag, and dragged out a roll of bills the size of a coffee can. Part of the roll she pushed at Rolff.
"Here, Dan, get it down on Bush. You've got an hour anyway to look over the odds."
Rolff took the money and went off on his errand. I took his seat. She put a hand on my forearm and said:
"Christ help you if you've made me drop that dough."
