Free Las Vegas Gold by Jim Newell Page B

been doing so well with the remake of Tabby O’Hara into a civilized man, you can’t—the team can’t—afford to have you come unstrung. If you can’t, or won’t talk to me, is there anyone else you can talk to?”
    â€œNO!” Tabby exploded, then sat in silence again.
    â€œThen talk to me, Tabby. Tell me what’s going on. I told you before I was a first class secret keeper.”
    He got to his feet and paced back and forth in front of her, from one side of the room to the other. “Okay!” The word was almost an explosion as he spoke it. “Okay,” more quietly. Then he went silent for several crossings of the office floor.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œWell, I got a phone call, each of the last two nights. Several phone calls. After the first one, I kept hanging up. I changed my phone number after the first night and had it unlisted, and they still found me.”
    â€œWho’s ‘they’ ? Who was calling?”
    â€œA pro gambler who wants me to throw games for him and his pals.”
    â€œSo—we call the office of the Commissioner and have them stopped. Who are they? Or do you know their names?”
    â€œOh, I know the name of the guy that does the calling. And it ain’t as easy as calling the Commissioner. Do that and I’m either dead or banned from baseball. One’s as bad as the other, ’s far as I’m concerned.”
    Tabby, you’d better tell me the whole story.”
    Little by little, over the space of almost half an hour, the story came out. Molly was horrified, but she managed to keep her face and body language from betraying her feelings. Finally, he stopped.
    â€œThat all?” He nodded. “How many games did you throw in all?”
    â€œI dunno fer sure. Six or seven. Then, like I said, when I came here and found out how great you guys treated me, I made up my mind if they tried again, I was gonna tell ’em to go to hell. Well, they’re trying, I told ’em, and they say it’s either that or I’m dead, and if I tell the cops, I’m just as dead.” He sat down again, slumped in his chair. “So now you know.” He sighed. “I might as well retire. Maybe I can be a minor league pitchin’ coach or something. I don’t know nothin’ else but pitchin’ baseball.”
    â€œIs there any proof you threw those games for pay?”
    â€œI doubt it. I sure didn’t keep any receipts, the money was cash, and I can’t b’lieve they’d keep records of something like that. Maybe the Vegas gamblers did. I dunno.”
    The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Molly turned the matter over and over in her mind, considering the ethics and the legalities. Then she turned to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Tabby, look at me. I said you can trust me, and you can. I mean it! Leave this whole thing with me. Go on with your usual routine. They aren’t likely to bother you until your pitching turn comes up again, are they?” He shook his head. “Okay, if you have to miss a turn in the rotation, the world won’t come to an end. We can put it down to some minor reason—mild soreness in the arm or something. Just leave it with me and let me see what I can do.”
    She stood up, moved behind her desk, and for the first time in the interview, sat down behind her desk and looked more official. “It’s no good for me to tell you not to worry, but you’re a pretty good actor. I heard you with young Martinez last night. Get on with being your new friendly self, keep yourself surrounded by teammates. I’ll have a guard on your apartment and on you while you’re traveling alone. You won’t even know he’s there. Just trust me. I’ll see you through this. Truly.”
    Tabby stood up and walked around the desk toward her. She stood up to meet him. He gave her a big hug. “Molly, you’re the first