“Okay, if you say so.”
“Who did you sell the ticket to?” Simon inquired casually.
“Mushky Thompson,” Whitey said. “But it goes through his kick like a dose of salts. Pretty soon it’s movin’ from one pot to another like cash.”
“Yes, but who got it in the end?” Nelson asked.
“I quit at three in th’ morning. Who it winds up with, I couldn’t say.” Whitey glanced at his wrist watch. “’Bout time we was headin’ for the gym, Stevie.”
“Was Karl sitting in on the game?” Simon persisted.
Whitey blinked.
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s an expensive gun, Whitey,” Simon pursued mildly. “Is ten all you could get on it?”
Mullins spread his hands, expressively.