Boom! Ha-ha-ha.
At the buzzer, Wayne "Captain Clutch" Rigsby...
nails the three, and the crowd goes insane.
I hate the night shift.
Hey, Jane, teach me a card trick, will you?
Card trick?
- Say, "Pick a card." - Okay.
Pick a card.
Okay. Put it back in the deck.
Place the deck very gently on your forehead...
and try to visualize the card that I picked. Hmm?
Just focus and see it.
What springs to mind?
Um...
- What card do you see? - Nine of hearts.
Nine of hearts?
Um...
- That it? - Huh.
- How did I do that? - Very good.
- Very, very good. Let me try. - Mm-hm.
- Pick a card. - That one.
Memorize it.
- Jack of diamonds. - Nope.
Hmm.
- Are you sure? - Yep.
- Well, uh, Cho? - It's a card trick. Not interested.
- Well, I guess card tricks are lame. - Yep. When they don't work.
We're up.
What do you think, doc?
Your basic blunt-force trauma.
- Baseball bat type of deal. - Mugging gone wrong maybe?
Don't think so. His wallet's gone. He did have this on him.
It was wrapped in a napkin with a note written on it.
Ah, the mysterious case of the jilted jockey.
Don't be flippant.
- You think he's a jockey? - Oh, I know he is.
- Because he's small? - Small, bowlegged, hungry-thin...
in a thousand-dollar jacket. Deep tan from working outdoors.
Raccoon eyes from wearing goggles. That is a horseshoe on that napkin...
probably from a bar in town that has "horseshoe" in the name.
- Well, he could be a racecar driver. - Racecar drivers have soft hands.
Why a jilted jockey?
Because it alliterates it, and that is always fun.
And who else but a forsaken lover would ask for forgiveness...
on a cocktail napkin? With a ring, no less.
- Golden Horseshoe Restaurant. A mile away. - Et voilà.
Sorry, agents, wait.
I just found this in John Doe's jacket pocket.
I don't know why I didn't notice it before.
Thanks.
I figure it's some kind of message maybe from the killer.
That's my card. How did you do that?
- Huh? What? - Card tricks?
A man has lost his life. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Whoa, whoa.
- No. - Wait.
- Shame. - Never mind.
Shame, shame. So shameful. Terrible.
Flashy clothes, about 5'5", skinny, like maybe he could be a jockey.
Sounds like Bill Button. No, it's "Sutton." That's the name.
He used to date Delinda, a girl who works here as a hostess.
He came in last night looking for her. Had a couple drinks.
Tried to leave something for her, but I told him I couldn't accept it.
- Policy. - Did you see what it was?
Yeah. It was a ring, - "Forgive me."
- Forgive him for what? Do you know? - Men. There's always something.
- So, what's happened to him? - Well, he's dead.
The girlfriend, Delinda, what's her full name?
Um, it's LeCure. Delinda LeCure.
She wasn't working last night?
No. He kept coming in, hassling her to get back together with him.
So she started switching shifts to avoid him.
He get heavy with her?
Physical.
No, no, no. He was always a gentleman, what I saw.
But I stay out of that stuff, you know. TMI.
She have any other boyfriends?
- Anyone else interested? - Not that I know of.
- You have an address for Delinda? - Yeah, I got it here somewhere.
Cho and Rigsby are talking to the ex-girlfriend, Delinda, now.
Anything else on the victim?
William Q. Sutton is scheduled to ride in the fifth race at Redwood Downs today.
- So he is a jockey. - Yep.
Riding for a man named Cobb Holwell.
Jane, we're going to Redwood Downs.
Yeah, yeah, you were right. He's a jockey. You coming or not?
- I grew up around horses. - Fine, you can drive.
- I'll meet you there. - I could come.
See what you can find out about this Cobb Holwell, okay?
Why does horse manure smell so good?
It doesn't.
Excuse me.
- You seen Cobb Holwell around here? - You're here about Bill, huh?
We're with the CBI. We have a couple questions. You are...?
Sam Starks. I'm an apprentice for Mr. Holwell.
- Nice animal. What's his name? - Castor's Folly.
Ah, yes, Castor's Folly. Sutton was gonna ride him in the fifth race.
Bill was so good with Cass.
They had a deep bond.
Poor soul.
He's grieving deeply.
How do you know that?
He knew something was wrong, so I told him.
Okay.
- What happened to Bill? - No idea yet. What's your guess?
I don't know.
Think Cass might have some kind of idea...
because we're pretty sure Mr. Sutton's death had something to do with horses.
Cass has to finish his ride.
You can find Mr. Holwell's stables over there to the left.
Nice. Teasing a grieving girl.
Prodding, not teasing. She could be the culprit.
A fiendish killer, for all we know.
Hell of a thing. Bill was a good man.
- Good jock. - Mr. Holwell...
uh, did Sutton have any problems with anyone here?
No. Well-liked.
- How about women? - None that I heard about.
- How long did he—? - Could he have won?
Castor's Folly in the fifth race. Did he have any chance of winning?
Always. There's always a chance.
Cass broke his maiden by three lengths.
Some problems since, but he's finding his form.
He could've won.
Heck, damn it, he would've won. Never mind.
There'll be another race, and we'll find another jock.
- How long did he work for you? - Three weeks.
- That's all? - Oh, I'd known Bill for years.
He'd been out of the game for a while. When he came back, I hired him quick.
Gave him 20 grand to ride for me exclusive.
One final question. Where were you last night?
- Here at the stable. - All night?
Ma'am, I am the last independent stable in this part of the state.
I got one decent horse and a hundred creditors.
- I don't sleep much. - Jane, do you have any...
questions?
Thanks for your time.
Black Blizzard in the sixth. It's a lock, trust me.
- And where's that tip from? - Somebody who knows.
- What are you, a racetrack cop? - Ha, ha. Does it seem legit?
He's a groom at the stables. Sounds pretty good.
Works around horses. Guess he might know something.
I got all the inside poop. Twenty bucks buys you a lock in the sixth. A lock.
- Huh. How much are you betting? - Huh?
Well, you said it's a lock. How much are you betting?
Oh. All that poop inside, and you're outside hustling for lunch money, huh?
- I'm trying to make a living. Move along. - You used to ride.
Did you know Bill Sutton?
So you are a cop. You don't look like one.
Yeah, I knew Sutton.
He was a lowdown cheat.
- Now walk away, pal. - Save your money.
I'm a better judge of horses than Mister, uh...
- Ellis Barnes. Screw you. - Patrick Jane. Nice to meet you too.
I will bet you that I can pick first, second and third horse...
any race you choose, Mr. Barnes. And you're my witness.
Next race. Five hundred bucks says you can't.
- Ooh. - Heh.
See you at the payout window after the race.
Delinda LeCure, Apartment 28.
Why would anyone date a jockey? Hungry little guy, smells like horses.
- You don't like horses? - They're like dogs, but bigger.
- You don't like dogs? - It's all an act with dogs.
- They do it for the food. - Everybody does.
That's deep.
Ma'am, we're from the California Bureau of Investigation.
We'd like to—
Excuse me, ma'am. Do you live here?
Oh, no, not today.
Hello?
This is so ridiculous. I don't understand.
- Take it easy. - Hey, just get off of me, okay?
I have my rights. Hey, this is police brutality!
- Ouch. What are you gonna do? - Hey.
- Hey, what's going on? - Hey, uh, can you get me a lawyer?
I got this bench-warrant thing out on me.
Warrant? We wanna talk about your boyfriend.
- What boyfriend? - What bench warrant?
Are you talking about Brandon? Because he is not my boyfriend.
- Are you Delinda LeCure? - Uh-uh.
She is.
Okay, who are you people?
- Where have you been? - Here, there. Making new friends.
- Heh, I'll bet. Come on. Let's go. - One brief moment.
In 25 seconds, come over and insist I must leave immediately.
What? Jane.
One, two, three.
One, two, three. He did it.
- Do it again. - Some other time.
- How much did you bet? - Fifty.
- Fifty large? - No, 50 cents.
- Jane, let's go. Now. - I won the trifecta.
- I got a little cash to collect. - Oh, go ahead, then.
- We have plenty of time. - Okay.
- I'm kidding. Come on. Let's go. - Cough up.
Thank you.
Bye.
- Do I wanna know what that was about? - Uh, no.
- Since when do you know about horses? - I'm not one to brag.
How'd you do it? Analyze the form?
- Ah, just picked the coolest names. - Come on, tell me how you won.
- Think about it. - I hate it when you say that.
How'd they do it? Kill him.
Baseball bat to the head, most likely.
- Oh, God. - Any names spring to mind?
- Enemies he may have had? - We're trying to look into Bill's finances.
But we can't find any credit cards. Not even a bank account.
Oh. Bill was funny that way. He just didn't trust banks.
- Cash only. Had a safe in his closet. - How long had you known him?
November 6th would've been four years.
Was that before or after he had left horseracing?
Bill didn't leave horseracing. They suspended him two years ago.
There was a pileup going into a turn.
They said it was Bill's fault, which it wasn't.
- They banned him for a year. - That must've been hard on him.
It was a real dark time.
You know, all Bill ever wanted to do was ride.
He struggled with his temper, that's a fact.
Is that why you broke up with him?
The, uh...
- The day he got that job with Holwell... - Mm-hm.
we thought we should go out and celebrate, you know?
Sushi. Except we got in a fender-bender on the way...
and, uh, the other driver...
he's getting all macho, you know, trying to intimidate Bill.
And Bill just went at him like a crazy person.
You know, he really hurt the guy. Broke bones.
And when I tried to stop him, he got mad at me.
We went home, fought half the night...
and I left the next day.
I'm from an abusive family...
so I see that coming, and I'm out the door.
Did you catch the guy's name? The guy he beat up.
No.
Did you see what kind of car he was driving?
I don't know. Uh...
Some kind of gold muscle car.
Black stripes maybe.
When was the last time you saw Bill?
I never really saw him again after I left.
He tried to talk to me, but I didn't want to.
When he died, he had a note for you in his pocket.
A note?
And this.
Oh.
I should've stayed.
I should've tried to help him.
You did what's right for you, okay?
Guy gets beaten up, holds a grudge, decides to go back for round two.
Guy gets beaten that badly, he goes to the ER. Check admissions.
Also, crosscheck DMV records for gold muscle cars.
Yeah, you got it.
I checked Sutton's apartment. That safe in the closet, it's empty.
No money anywhere.
- Almost 20 grand missing. - Mm-hm.
Twenty grand is motive.
Holwell's running Castor's Folly...
in the Montague Pineapple Juice Stakes this Sunday.
What does that have to do with anything?
Oh, it's a big race. Big step up for horse and rider.
Rider being Sam Starks.
The apprentice. You think getting to ride could be motive?
Let's ask her.
Are you sure you just don't wanna go to play the ponies?
- No play. Strictly business. - Sheep-dip.
I grew up around horses. I could come with you—
Check into that incident where Sutton was suspended two years ago.
Thank you.
Get the hell off my property.
- Whoa, whoa. - What are you doing here anyway?
- Easy, Cobb, old buddy. - Is there a problem here?
Yeah, I caught Lockhardt here sneaking around my stables, spying.
Spying? On your horses?
Like I'd learn something. I was just being neighborly.
Frank Lockhardt, owner of Ad Astra Stable.
Say, aren't you that cop that knows about horses? Jane.
- Jane. Mm. - I've been hearing about that trick...
all day. Very impressive.
Trick? It's no trick.
I actually listen to the animals. They're very expressive beasts.
Did you hear that?
Doesn't like your suit.
Well, however you did it, congratulations on your choices.
- Two of them were my horses. - It only takes one horse.
- You'll see that on Sunday. - Really?
That donkey? With a little girl in the saddle?
Heh, you sure know how to pick them, Cobb.
Sutton wasn't any good either. Only person who'd hire him was Holwell.
- Take a hike, Frank. - No disrespect, Cobb.
We need people like you in the horse business.
I mean, without fools and dreamers, where would we be?
- Can't have winners without losers. - Castor's Folly is gonna win on Sunday.
You'll see. Pride and love of these animals beats your money...
- ... and corporate charts any day. - That's enough, gentlemen.
We need to speak with Sam Starks. Do you know where she is?
Unh. Shh.
Watch it. He'll kick.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Sorry, Mr. Holwell. I don't know what happens.
It's not your fault. He's just not ready.
- Is that Castor's Folly? - No, it's Pollock's Dream.
It's his twin.
His evil twin.
But we'll fix him eventually, right, Sam?
Yes, Mr. Holwell.
Miss Starks, I'd like to ask you some more questions.
- Um, I don't know if— - No, go ahead, Sam.
Talk to the lady. I got this.
Twins?
- That's rare, huh? - Yeah.
Temperaments are completely different, but each like their dam in their own way.
Someday they'll both be winners like she was.
If this bastard will ever let a rider on him.
So Frank Lockhardt's wrong about your horses?
Well, the great thing about racing is...
the more they underestimate you, the better the odds are when you win.
More money you make.
And win we will. You mark my words.
It's gotta be expensive, though...
the upkeep on a horse that won't let himself be ridden.
Well, people say I'm an old fool for keeping Poll around, but screw them.
The boys are like mirror images of each other.
The flaws of one are the strengths of the other.
Keep them together, and they'll rub off on each other. I've seen it happen.
So this one...
keeps this one from going crazy.
And what does this one bring to the mix?
Well, he runs like the north wind.
Ah.
Hello there.
Uh-huh.
- Mr. Jane? - Shh.
Uh-huh.
Oh, okay.
Really?
Oh. Excuse me. We'll talk again soon.
Okay.
Grace. What's up?
I got the scoop on that pileup Sutton caused.
Three jockeys were injured, one of them pretty badly.
Ah, that'd be Barnes.
Yeah. He had multiple broken bones and spent almost a month in the hospital.
Ouch.
With Sutton dead, you're getting your big break as a jockey.
- Must be pretty exciting, huh? - I guess. Sure.
Come on. You had to have known, with Sutton gone...
that Holwell would probably go to you.
You don't understand.
Bill was the closest thing to a family I've ever had.
I'd give anything to get him back.
But I can't. Riding's all I have. It's all I know.
- Must be a lot of pressure on you. - I can handle it.
Then what are you so afraid of?
I'm not afraid.
Hmm, are too.
Is somebody threatening you? We can help.
I'm fine. I don't need help.
- Are we done? Can I go? - Sure.
Tough girl. Scared, though.
- Terrified even. - Of what?
Ah, there's the rub. Of what is she so scared?
- And the answer is...? - Well, it's a rhetorical question.
I have no idea. I do have an idea, but I'm not gonna tell you...
- ... because that would be premature. - And I am not gonna amuse you...
by demanding to know. So there.
So we're both happy, then.
This could be the guy that Sutton beat up.
Philip Debolt. Came through ER with a broken jaw and contusions.
Wouldn't say what happened. He's got a couple disorderly conducts.
- Gold muscle car with black stripes. - Symbol of bullying jerks.
Nice new rims.
Mechanic's gone for the day. Open tomorrow at 8.
Nice chrome rims on that Mustang out there.
- You're, uh, Phil I'm guessing? - Yeah.
Expensive, those rims.
And that bling you got there must've set you back.
There a problem?
Yeah, there's a problem. A man's dead and 20 grand is missing.
Looks like you're wearing it.
- Who's dead? - Take a wild guess.
Wait, not Bill Sutton?
- He's dead? - Yeah.
That's what happens when you hit someone that hard, Phil.
I didn't hit him. He hit me.
He broke your jaw, humiliated you, so you got revenge.
It wasn't like that. When I saw the guy, I wanted to beat the hell out of him.
- You talked to him. When? - Came to the hospital.
- His girlfriend had left him. - He visited you at the hospital?
Get things right with me. To make amends.
I mean, everything in his life was screwed up, but he wanted to fix it.
Gave me $18,000.
Said he was gonna live his life straight from then on.
Look, guys, uh, don't tell the guys I got beat up.
Kind of said it was a car accident.
Thanks for your time.
- Working late? - Um, just finishing up.
- Stay a while. Chat. - Let go of me.
Nobody rides for Holwell, see?
You ride for him, you don't ride again. Most riders are smart enough to listen.
- Don't be stupid. - I don't have a choice.
Look what happened to Sutton.
- You want that to happen to you? - Let her be, Barnes.
Oh, you're a nasty piece of work, aren't you? Huh?
I knew that from the moment I saw you...
but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to threaten young girls.
- I've had enough of you. - Whoa. Hang on. No, no.
Whoa, whoa. That's not fair.
Stop. Drop the weapon. Put your hands in the air where I can see them.
Huh?
Good thing for you you're a terrible liar. It's all about the eye contact.
That close. Hmm?
Stop it.
Really? Put it down.
Ellis Barnes has a temper. Popped twice for assault. Got probation. Tough guy.
Hold up. I've got an idea.
I don't have a choice.
Look what happened to Sutton.
You want that to happen to you?
Bill Sutton had his head bashed in. Did you have something to do with that?
This is a misunderstanding. I was saying Starks should be careful.
Friendly advice.
Friendly advice not to ride for Cobb Holwell.
Why would you care about that?
I have many interests, some large, some small.
And one of which is hating Bill Sutton.
We know he put you under at that race, Mr. Barnes. Ended your career.
He did it on purpose. I know he did.
Somebody did that to me, you know what I'd do?
I'd kill them.
Well, that's you.
So is there anything else, or are we done here?
Just one more thing.
Mr. Barnes, I'm from the California Racing Board.
We contacted the CRB when we brought you in. It's routine.
- I don't un— - You're selling information to bettors.
Either that information is genuine, which is a breach of your contract...
or it is false, and you are simply defrauding people.
Either way, pending a full investigation, I am obliged to ban you from—
Wait. No. I'm a groom. How am I supposed to earn?
However...
Agent Lisbon has asked me to exercise some discretion here...
based on your willingness to assist her in this murder investigation.
Alrighty, then.
Wait.
I didn't kill Sutton.
All I did is threaten him and threaten Starks.
- Who asked you to do that? - Talking to people is no crime.
Who?
Frank Lockhardt, owner of the Ad Astra Stable.
- Grace, where is everybody? - Hmm?
Uh, somewhere else doing interesting things.
Okay, come on, let's go.
- Go where? - Come on.
- Did you okay this with Lisbon? - I certainly did.
What kind of question is that? It's like you don't trust me.
We have to stop by your place, get a different outfit.
- An outfit for what? - Uh...
Sam Starks, Grace Van Pelt. Grace, this is Sam Starks.
- Hi. - Hello.
Grace used to ride. She grew up around horses.
Dressage mostly. A little jumping.
- So let's get her a ride, huh? - Um, a ride?
Yeah.
- Um, I don't know. - Sam.
We're cops. We're police officers.
- Okay. - There we go. Thank you.
I guess.
Now we're talking. Have fun.
This is Castor's Folly.
Be safe.
Look, I'm a businessman. Horses are nothing but a hobby for me.
- Right. You're a developer. - Commercial mostly.
You wanna get your hands on Cobb Holwell's stable.
I wanna beat him, sure. Heh.
I like winning races as much as the next man.
Not your hobby, your business.
You wanna develop the Redwood Downs complex.
Holwell has his stable there. He won't sell to you.
There was some discussion about developing Redwood Downs.
- Nothing concrete. Just talk. - Talk that could lead...
to millions in revenues. But first you need Holwell's stable.
- So? - You'd like to see...
Holwell out of business. You paid Ellis Barnes to stop jockeys riding for him.
Say Barnes told jockeys that if they ride for Holwell...
that means they won't ride for me. So what? It's the truth.
No law's been broken.
Bill Sutton was responsible for the accident that crippled Barnes.
Did you know that?
Barnes was angry about it. Very angry.
You sent a very angry man to threaten the person he was angry with.
How'd you think that would turn out?
I think I want my attorney.
Oh, oh, oh.
That was fun.
- What horse is that? - Oh, too bad you're so tall.
Holwell could use a second jockey for Pollock's Dream here.
- He's ready to be ridden. - I thought he was the crazy one.
Oh, no, no. He's just— He's just a little misunderstood.
- He seems like a sweetie. - Isn't he? Why don't you hop on?
Oh, I don't know.
Oh, I know horses, and he is 100 percent safe.
Look at that. See?
- Yeah? - He's nodding. Jump on.
Oh, I don't know. Ha, ha.
- Come on. - Okay.
Ready? And lift.
Okay.
Huh? See? Look at that.
- What did I say? - Hey! Get off that horse!
- Are you trying to get yourself killed? - I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know.
Relax, Sam. Poll told me he was ready. I was just proving...
that Holwell was right to believe in his horse. There's no need to thank me.
Heh. Thank you? You trying to get me fired the day before my big race?
- Yeah, thanks. - Sam, I'm sorry.
Mr. Holwell is gonna be so mad when he hears.
- Please, you have to leave now. - Okay.
See you, Poll.
- See you, Pollock's Dream. Bye. - What was that all about?
Clarity, Grace. Clarity.
Hello, Lisbon.
- Where have you been? - Oh, horseback riding with Grace.
That's nice. We've been trying to get confessions...
- ... out of Lockhardt and Barnes. - How's that going?
- It's not. - Yeah. No surprise.
- You can set them free. - Because...?
Because I come bearing a practical and speedy solution...
for all your crime-detection problems.
- Really? - Really and truly.
We are off to the races.
Hey.
Final results from our fifth race:
Thrifty Vision in first. Heavy Moon in second.
Coming in third was Kindly Dilemma...
followed by Gift for Mary and Fortune's Favor.
Horses for our final race are now in the paddock area.
- Everybody in position? - I'm here.
- Van Pelt? - Here.
- Cho? - Here.
Anybody got eyes on Jane?
Come on, people.
Your attention, please.
The horses are beginning to file onto the track for the final race of the day...
the $200,000 Montague Pineapple Juice Stakes at six and a half furlongs.
Wait a minute. I got him.
- Oh, hey. - Hey.
This is the guy. One, two, three?
- This guy knows his horses. - Next.
Next.
- Hmm. After you. - Oh, okay.
- Ten large on Castor's Folly to win. - Castor's Folly, $10,000.
Castor's Folly? Hundred to one? Heh.
Next.
Castor's Folly.
Don't let him have his head in the early turns.
He'll wanna get out fast, but don't let him.
I know you're behind that police harassment, Holwell.
You might've had your fun yesterday...
but I'm gonna own your stable tomorrow.
- Well, that's unless he wins today. - What?
If he wins today, then he makes enough money to pay off all his debts.
He's got exactly zero chance of winning. It's a hundred to one.
I know. Great odds, isn't it? I got $10,000 on him to win.
- What? - You're a fool.
- But, hey, good luck. - Thank you.
- You really bet on Castor's Folly? - Of course I did.
I mean, he's gonna win, isn't he? What's wrong?
A bet that big will shorten the odds. I'll win less money.
- What did you bet? - Every penny I have.
- Wow, that's confident. - Heh. Desperate.
And the horses are moving into the gate. Calm Thunder is in.
Well, not to worry. He's a cinch. I can guarantee it.
- Is that right? - Mm-hm.
- How's that? - Little switcheroo of the horsies.
- What do you mean? - Castor's Folly and Pollock's Dream.
- I switched them in their stalls. - Don't joke. It's not funny.
I know you don't think Poll is ready. I'm telling you, he is, and I know horses.
And you said yourself Pollock's Dream is the faster horse.
- Tell me you're not serious. - They look alike. If the steward...
suspected anything, you would've been so surprised...
they would've thought it was an honest mistake.
But they didn't. So my plan has worked perfectly.
And they're off.
Musketeer's Cat in the lead, Calm Thunder in second...
Temper's Twilight in third, and Papa Gene in fourth.
- Sheba's Ghost is slow to get going... - You meddling ass.
I already switched the horses. You switched them back.
That's how Sutton ended up dead, isn't it?
He refused to go along with your plan, so you killed him.
And you coerced that poor girl into taking his place.
You son of a bitch.
That works as a confession, doesn't it?
Here's Calm Thunder pulling up.
Temper's Twilight in third. Sheba's Ghost going up fourth.
Second, next to Papa Gene on the outside, it's long-shot Castor's Folly.
It's Calm Thunder and Musketeer's Cat in the lead.
Temper's Twilight back in fifth.
Long-shot Castor's Folly is on the outside.
Then Swift Soldier pulling up. Wes' Wind trailing.
It's Musketeer's Cat in the lead, Calm Thunder in second.
Castor's Folly coming in fast, pulling up on Temper's Twilight.
No!
In first, Musketeer's Cat is in trouble...
as Castor's Folly picks up speed.
Calm Thunder trying to stay in it. Papa Gene dropping back.
Castor's Folly second. Castor's Folly closing in fast on Musketeer's Cat.
Musketeer's Cat by half a length. Castor's Folly, then Calm Thunder.
Musketeer's Cat sprinting for the finish. Castor's Folly trying to take the lead.
Castor's Folly is right there, stepping forward as they come to the line.
Castor's Folly. Castor's Folly takes the lead. Castor's Folly wins by a nose.
Castor's Folly takes first place.
Musketeer's Cat in second, Calm Thunder in third, then Papa Gene...
Sheba's Ghost, Temper's Twilight, Swift Soldier, and Wes' Wind.
Mr. Holwell, you're under arrest for the murder of Bill Sutton.
- But you switched the horses. - Uh, I just said that. Ha, ha. I didn't really.
Congratulations. Your ringer won.
- Murder weapon? - Lug wrench from Holwell's truck.
- Sutton's DNA is all over it. - Sam Stark's testimony will put...
Holwell away for good.
He told her that he killed Sutton, to get her to cooperate with his scheme.
Said that she'd never ride again or end up dead if she talked.
She was naive enough to believe it.
I don't get the scheme. Why didn't Holwell just run the fast horse?
Well, the odds are no good on a fast horse. Everybody bets on him.
Run the slow horse to get the long odds. Run the fast horse to win the money.
How'd he switch the horses? Don't they check for that?
Holwell gave the fast one a lip tattoo to match the slow one.
- The stewards couldn't tell them apart. - Hmm.
Miss LeCure.
I asked Evidence to release this.
Mr. Sutton wanted you to have it, and I think you should.
You know, I think we would've been okay.
I mean, if we had time.
I think we would have.
Good luck.
Thanks.
Fool to herself, that girl. It was never gonna work.
- Don't be so cynical. - Uh, you did let Sam Starks go, didn't you?
She was a mere tool, an innocent pawn.
Semi-innocent.
But, yes, she's free and clear. She'll be riding at Santa Anita next week.
Excellent. And Holwell will soon be riding a bunk in San Quentin.
Well, I vote whoever won at the track pays for pizza.
The results were thrown out. Jane didn't win anything.
He got the money from the trifecta. The one, two, three.
Uh, not so much. It cost a lot to, uh, win that.
I had to cover every three-way combination of every horse.
- Cost me $5000, and I only won $486. - Wait a minute.
- So you can't read horses? - Course not.
It's always a good idea to seem like you know what you're talking about.
- Fosters trust. - So you put Grace...
on a potentially wild horse with no idea what could happen?
I had an idea that Holwell was putting a burr under the saddle.
Very old-school trick. Very old-school.
I had Grace ride bareback to see if I was right. And I was.
You took a terrible chance.
Well, I figured the odds were 70-30 I was right. I wouldn't call that terrible.
A betting man would call that risky, but certainly not terrible.
No.
So pizza.
Nope.