Clee Garson

“ I broke in. "Maybe your customers just aren't betting this morning."
Mort and Mike looked at me as if I were crazy, which possibly I was. Two dozen steady horse players don't all stop at once, if ever.
Mike was as sorely troubled as Mort.
"We got at least couple dozen bets acrosst the counter already this morning," he said. "But no phone bets."
"Maybe the damn thing is actually out of order," Mort groaned, glancing at the telephone.
"Then how did we get them two calls from the joker?" Mike demanded. "No. That phone ain't no more outta order than I am." ”

“ I gulped the rest of my coke, lit another cigarette, shrugged cheerfully, and started for the door. I turned before leaving.
"Cheer up," I said. "This will probably blow over. And if it doesn't, there's always the army." ”

“ Mike demanded. "A smart copper waiting to trap us?"
I shook my head. "I think you got a loony," I said. "But don't quote me." I started toward the door. "I got work to do, gents, but I'll look in again a little later. Hope you get rid of your pest."
"We'd better," Mike moaned dismally.
"Brother," Mort declared, pulling his hair and making a sincerely distraught face, "you're not kidding!"
I looked at the telephone booth and shook my head. "Somebody is," I told them.... ”

“ Mike lowered his voice even more, looking furtively around the building lobby.
"Confidentially, although we don't dare draw attention to our joint since the State's Attorney is telephone prowling, Mort and me decided you was right. It must be a loony. All we can do is wait until he gets tired and gets off."
I nodded. "That's about all you can do," I agreed. "Does he still want to talk to Hitler and Mussolini?"
Mike nodded disgustedly. "Worse than ever. Calling every twenty minutes now. Mort and me is going crazy answering them calls and pretending they ain't nothing but syndicate results." ”

“ Mort and me ain't told anyone, fer fear of the ribbing we'd get, plus the kick in the pants it would give our regular betting business over the counter."
"You mean the guy's still on the telephone?" I demanded.
Mike nodded a little sickly. "We can't get him off. And since we ain't letting on to no one about the phone being fritzed that way, every time he rings, we pretend we're getting an odd change, or some scratches or result. Mort an' me have been running our legs off, using a telephone next door to get our prices and results and such dope from the syndicate. ”

“ Both wet their lips.
"Ordinary days that joker might be funny," Mort said. "But now I'm thinking this isn't an ordinary day. I'm thinking it's not as funny as I first thought."
He crossed to the telephone booth, jerked the receiver from the hook, and bellowed into the mouthpiece.
"Hello!"
There was a brief pause in which someone said something to him from the other end of the wire.
"Listen!" Mort suddenly exploded. "Nothing is funny three times, wise guy. I wish you would take your Hitler-Mussolini gag and—" at which point he described what he wanted the caller to do with the gag. ”

“ I asked, "why he didn't call Adolf and Benito directly, if his boss wanted to tell them off?"
"So help me," Mort declared, "he did. He said that with the war all over our globe like it is, there was a lot of space interference everywhere preventin' communication. He said he couldn't be choosy, and had to use any wire he could get through to. It happened to be ours. Can you beat it?" ”

“ Mort advised. "It's probably just one of our customers having a gag."
"Bum gag, I say. If they wanta gag whyn't they gag funny?" Mike snorted angrily. "Talk to Hitler and Mussolini, eh? Huh!"
And at that juncture, the telephone rang again. Mort looked up, then looked at me and winked. He turned to Mike, who'd started wrathfully for the booth.
"Hold it, chumly," Mort said. "I'll answer this one. If it's the joker again I can handle him better than you can."
ort walked nonchalantly over to the booth, took down the receiver, and turned to wink again at me. ”