Pat Ritter. Books

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Bundy walked to the totaliser window and placed the ten dollars to win on number twelve.’ He returned to his seat and handed her the ticket.
‘It’s against the odds and the form is off, the only thing going for you he has drawn number 12. The same age as our victim when he disappeared.’
‘Why do you think I picked the horse; and the name of course?’ She smiled and kissed the ticket for luck.
‘Do you want to order before the race?’ Bundy asked.
‘Can we have a drink, not coffee or chocolate, a strong drink – a nice wine, would be nice.’ She used a warm tone in her voice which Bundy had never heard before.
A waiter appeared before their table and asked if they wanted any drinks. ‘Yes, have you a lovely dry white wine, Bundy what’ll you have?’
‘An orange drink – thank you, I don’t drink.’

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Chapter 3

‘Are you frightened of being picked up for drink driving?’ Detective Superintendent Emerson asked.
‘No – I’m an alcoholic. My last drink was 13th January 1977.’
‘That’s a long time ago. Can’t you have a drink to be sociable?’ She asked.
‘If I have one I’d need to have a thousand. One’s too many and a thousand not enough.’
‘I congratulate you.’ She said in a concerned voice, their eyes met for the first time.
‘Thank you – it’s not necessary. Ada gave me an ultimatum, if I didn’t stop drinking she would leave and take my children. I made her a promise I would never drink again. I’ve kept the promise.’
‘You must have loved her very much?’
‘Yes, I did – she and the children were my life. For twenty years I was a dry drunk until I worked as an alcohol and drug counsellor and learned to change my behaviour and found out what caused my alcoholism.’ Bundy shared.
‘That’s something to be proud of. I don’t have a problem; at least I don’t think I have. I enjoy a glass of good wine with my meal or after a hard day at the office. If I drink too much you tell me and counsel me.’ She replied with a smile.
‘I doubt you’ve got a problem. I know this job can drive you to drink at times but my problem began when I was six years old.’
‘Did you start drinking then?’
‘No – I was twelve when I had my first drink of alcohol, a similar age to our victim and the number you’ve bet on in this next race. It was another sixteen years before I stopped drinking however, another twenty years afterwards, before the penny finally dropped.’ Bundy had never shared this information with anyone apart from Ada.

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‘What’s going on out there?’ Detective Superintendent Emerson pointed to the parade ring.
‘The horses and drivers are going onto the track. Your number twelve looks fit. I haven’t been to the races since Ada passed away and lost touch with the horses and drivers. I used to know each one by name – one time.’
Number twelve did look fit, his coat shiny and glossy, head erect and hooves stamping ready to go. He thought of having a small wager himself but he’d given up beating a long time ago. It was a mugs game.
Over the fifteen years or so he was involved in harness racing industry he saw enough to warn him from betting. Trainers who bet their last dollar on their horse thinking it would win were peeling the paint from their stable walls to survive. If he, as a person in the industry, didn’t know what horse would win, then what chance did the punter have betting on the race? Like Detective Superintendent Emerson said, it was an omen bet.
‘How do they race?’ Detective Superintendent Emerson asked.
‘Look over the back of the track and you’ll see a mobile with barriers. It’s the vehicle with arms spread across the back. Each horse, number; one to ten line-up behind their number – number eleven and twelve are on the second line. When the mobile gathers speed and each horse is in-line; the mobile paces off and the race commences.’ Bundy explained.

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‘My horse has got to run through the ones in front to win. Why didn’t you explain it to me before I had the bet?’
‘I tried to explain, you didn’t take notice. Why do you think you’re horse is one hundred to one.’
‘I like the name ‘High Class Investigator’. It’s an omen, and he’s wearing number twelve saddlecloth.’
‘Well, that’s about all that’s going for it. But you never know in the racing business, it’s happened before. The race is about to start.’
All lights dimmed on the track; the only noise heard was the sound from the race course announcer about to call the race. ‘They’re off and racing.’ The race caller sprouted, calling the name of each horse as they took up their positions in the race.
Bundy had witnessed many races and this one was the same as any other. He watched number twelve follow number two through to positioned itself in the one out and one back position, an ideal position to be in, until the final hundred metres of the race.
‘You’re horse is in a good position – one out and one back, he’s not doing much work and should finish well.’ Bundy told Detective Superintendent Emerson.
‘I told you I liked the name of the horse.’

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‘Alright, move around now.’ Bundy whispered, his heart beat faster and knew number twelve had a better than even chance to go to the line. Around the final turn the drivers gave their horses all opportunity to win, number twelve moved into the clear.
She jumped from her seat, threw her hands into the air and screamed aloud, ‘come on number twelve.’ Number twelve crossed the winning line clear of the second horse. ‘I told you he’d win.’ She threw her arms around Bundy’s neck and smiled, ‘I told you so. I’m sorry I did that. I got so excited and couldn’t control myself.’
‘Yeah – it’s okay. No harm done.’ He was pleased for her and took her arms from around his neck and grinned with glee the horse came first past the winning post.
‘What happens now?’ She said excitedly.
‘They return to the front of the grandstand; a steward will check the whips of the drivers before he declares ‘clear’. Congratulations, you’ve won over a thousand dollars.’ He felt pleased for Detective Superintendent Emerson.
‘I’ll share the winnings with you.’ She said.
‘You can’t do that – it’s your money and I don’t expect you to share your winnings. You won it fair and square.’

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‘Well, I’m paying for our meals and drinks. I’ll have another wine. And it’s about time you called me by my first name ‘Kate’.’
‘Okay – Kate, it’s better than Detective Superintendent Emerson. It’s a real mouthful.’
Bundy went to the totaliser and received one thousand two hundred dollars after handing in Kate’s ticket. He returned to the table and handed her the money, ‘you won more than what you thought – twelve hundred dollars.’
‘Here’s a hundred – it should cover our meals and drinks.’ She handed Bundy a crisp one hundred dollar note. He accepted.
They enjoyed a delicious meal of seafood and dessert finished with coffee and a cup of tea for Bundy. When they left Bundy heard his name called, ‘hey Bundy, aren’t you talking to us.’
He looked toward where the voice came from and identified his friend John. They walked over to John’s table. Bundy knew each person sitting around the table. Memories flooded back to when he and Ada dined at the same table with these same friends in harness racing. Harness Racing is a tight knit community and once you’re part of the community it stands for life.
Bundy introduced Kate to each of the group. John looked at Bundy with a look to show, ‘how’d did you get this one – she’s young enough to be your daughter – look’.
‘Come and join us.’ John beckoned. Bundy and Kate sat beside John.

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‘What’ve you been up to? We haven’t seen you about for a long time.’ One of the diners stated.
‘After Ada died I got lost in a maze of grief. Anyway, I’m back now. What about Kate here – she backed the winner of the second race. One hundred to one winner.’
‘You’re lucky.’ Said another patron seated at the table.
‘This is the first time I been to the trots and hopefully it won’t be the last.’ Kate shared with the others and looked directly at Bundy.
‘What’re you up to Bundy?’ John asked.
‘Kate here is a Detective Superintendent with the police. I’ve been recalled to help her with the disappearance of a young lad eight years ago who didn’t get on the train after leaving home.’ Bundy said.
‘That was terrible – I remember reading about it in the papers. That’s a long time ago.’ One lady commented. ‘Are you close to finding out what happened?’ She continued.
‘Not yet – but now Bundy is working with me fulltime I’m certain we’ll find an answer.’ Kate said in confidence.
‘Have you still got it Bundy?’ One patron asked.
‘I surely hope so. I feel great and my mind is fresh.’
‘What can we do to help?’ Asked another patron.