The morning after he returned from Chicago, Doyle walked into his office at Willowdale and activated his answering machine. First thing he heard was a message from Rexroth.
“They’ll be bringing our horse Lancaster Lad down from Heartland Downs late today,” Rexroth said. “He’s not been running well. Probably needs a change of scenery. When he arrives, put him over on the Annex with Boomer until further notice. Good place for him to relax. The van from Heartland should arrive about four.”
“Relax, my ass,” Doyle said to himself. “Change of scenery! Change of identity is more like it.”
After he’d cleared the remaining messages, he sat down in his desk chair. He decided to slip away for a nap that afternoon, for he knew he was going to be on the alert each night and morning at least the rest of that week, his last at Willowdale.
Arriving two days later from Chicago via Rexroth’s private jet was jockey Willie Arroyo, who climbed aboard Boomer at 6:15 a.m. and worked him over the training track together with Lancaster Lad, who was ridden by exercise rider Gwen Goran. At least the two started out in company. However, not a quarter-mile of the six-furlong trial had elapsed before Boomer began to pull rapidly away from Lancaster Lad. Arroyo sat still as a statue on Boomer, never urging him, but the margin increased anyway. Goran frantically hustled Lancaster Lad in an attempt to keep up, to no avail. Boomer crossed the finish line more than sixteen lengths in front, going easily.
Only two grooms and Pedro Ramos, recently promoted by Rexroth to assistant foreman, watched this from the viewing stand next to the training track rail. Jack Doyle took in the action from a stand of trees located on a slight incline across from the eighth pole of the track. The emerging sun was behind him, so he didn’t worry about his binoculars glinting and giving away his presence. When he checked his stopwatch after Boomer passed the wire, he whistled softly. Then he sneaked away through the trees, smiling to himself.
As he made his way back to his office, Doyle thought hard about the principals involved in this caper. He doubted that Kenny Gutfreund, trainer of the Willowdale horses at Heartland Downs, knew what was transpiring here on the farm; Gutfreund had a strong reputation as a straight shooter.
On the other hand, Doyle had every reason to believe that jockey Willie Arroyo knew quite well what was going on, for he’d ridden both horses, Lancaster Lad in his mediocre races at Heartland, Boomer in his sensational early morning trials at Willowdale. Still, if things played out the way Doyle thought they would, it would be hard to pin anything on the jockey, who was known to feign ignorance with the best of them.
But that realization didn’t bother Doyle for long. As he circled the base of the berm that obscured the training track from the nearby road, Doyle recalled the words of his Uncle Pete O’Connor, his mother’s older brother. An avid fisherman, Pete loved to intone, “One big fish is worth a whole bunch of little ones.”
Doyle had always considered Uncle Pete one of the most boring humans he’d ever known. But today, particularly, he saw the value of this little piece of philosophy.
Rexroth phoned Doyle in his office that afternoon, some nine hours after the so-called secret workout on the Willowdale training track.
“Change in plans, Doyle,” Rexroth said curtly. “Lancaster Lad has definitely come to life after his R amp;R here at Willowdale. Good thing, too,” Rexroth added with a phony chuckle, “or I’d have a lot of egg on my face come next Saturday night after the predictions I’ve made about him winning the Derby.
“But now,” Rexroth continued, “it’s all systems go for Saturday. The horse is doing fantastically well. They can’t run the Heartland Derby any too soon, far as I’m concerned.”
Rexroth then instructed Doyle to have Lancaster Lad ready for loading on the van by five Wednesday morning.
“I’ll have him ready,” Doyle promised. “I’ll take care of it myself.”
Rexroth responded, “That’s what I like in people working for me, Doyle-the hands-on, personal responsibility approach.” As he listened, Doyle looked out the office window. In the parking lot, he saw Pedro’s Jeep Cherokee with its bumper sticker proclaiming Variety Kick-Starts Creativity.
“Variety,” Doyle began to quote. But he realized he was about to go too far. He thought of Moe Kellman counseling him not to be such a wiseass. Doyle stopped the sentence with a cough. He heard Rexroth say, “If you’d like to fly up to Chicago with Stoner and me in the Willowdale plane Saturday morning, you’re welcome to do so.”
“Thanks for the offer,” Doyle replied, “but I’ll be driving up. I’ve got some personal business to take care of on Sunday. But I’ll sure see you at the races.”