Bobby McGee

Chapter Fourteen. Rural Las Vegas

Chapter Fourteen

Rural Las Vegas

Off track betting was illegal. There was no such thing as a turf accountant in the village, yet somehow everyone seemed to be able to have a flutter on a big race day. Who was the bookie, who were his runners? Fletch suspected Jeppa. Someone had to pick up the bets and make the payoffs. What better front could you have than a newsagent?

McGee decided to put Jeppa under close surveillance. He made no attempt at subtlety. He could think of no good reason for being on the village streets at six in the morning.

"I hope you don't mind if I follow you around this morning Jepp. I'd just like to know who in the village is buying the Racing News. My boss has asked me to track down the heavy gamblers in the village."

Jeppa didn't react to his gambling reference. "You could have just come and looked at my ledger you dumb ox."

"Sure I could, but I didn't want to disturb you at home, and anyway there's nothing like the fresh early morning air."

Lame, but Jeppa seemed to accept it.

"If you're going to follow me around you'd better make yourself bloody useful."

McGee was amazed at the efficiency of the whole operation. It was slow at first as the antique bike, equipped with solid tyres, carried three bulging canvas bags. One contained the popular Daily Herald, another, a mix of Guardians, Telegraphs, Chronicles and even the odd Times. The third bag contained specialty items - comics for the kids, Rovers and Wizards, the Daily Worker. There was something for everyone, and Jeppa knew everyone's order. He would trundle his bike up to the front gate or door, release the stand and instantly, without reference, pick out the appropriate papers, and hand them to McGee.

"Since you're so interested in their reading habits you deliver them."

McGee complied. He learned a lot about the village that morning.

Very little progress was made on the gambling front however, other than confirmation of the fact that many people were into the racing scene. Significantly the Racing News was delivered to both pubs, the Reading Room, and to many of the shipyard workers' homes.

Jeppa did nothing to rouse suspicion. It was obvious that he was not picking up betting slips. Despite this McGee decided to call on Jeppa that very evening. As he entered the shop, Jeppa was just about to close down.

"Any Mails left, Jepp?"

"Sorry, not a one."

"What about those?" McGee asked, pointing to two that were clearly visible on the wooden counter.

"They're on order."

"But you're closing shop. They won't be picking them up now."