"Fanetti!" Heck cried on impulse. "Do you know what happened to Fanetti?"
"Naw."
"Me and Willy shot him," said Heck, "in both legs. That ought to prove I'm like this—" he crossed his index and middle fingers—"with Willy. Here, if you don't believe me, call this number."
One of them called the number. And spoke. And listened. And returned with an awed look on his face. "The little guy told the truth."
At that moment the loudspeaker blared: "In the fifth race, the results: Miramar and Sultan's Lady in a dead heat."
The two thugs at the barrier began to argue about the respective merits of Miramar and Sultan's Lady. Numbers flashed on the tote board. Sultan's Lady had won on the shorter odds and that meant something to one of the thugs. It seemed to mean the opposite to the other.
"Willy Talese," Heck said. "I've got to find where he hangs out. It's a matter of life and death. I've got to see him."
"I thought you said business." Suspiciously.
"Well, yes. Of course."