architect of a trade agreement with the United States. He was quickly elected to Parliament and within ten years was swept into office as Prime Minister. By this time the marriage was one of convenience. Though Eleanor kept up the pretense of “first lady of Canada,” it wasn’t long before she hit the road again doing what she did best— rebel rousing and carousing. However, as wife of the prime minister she was fair game for the tabloids. It was well known that she was not averse to sleeping with the subjects of her photographs. She garnered sympathy in some circles, but for the most part she was criticized for dragging Canada through the mud. After her husband left office, she went through an amicable divorce, and settled in New York. She was working for Newsweek when the fateful letter bomb, sealed with gribilene, arrived at her apartment.
Sam was so totally absorbed in the details of the only too short life of Eleanor Moreau that he did not notice Esther return from the ladies’ room. When he looked up, he was more than a little taken aback. She was sitting across from Buddy Radford and Qu Min. The flight attendant flip-flopped the front two seats so that they were oriented toward the back of the plane facilitating the three-way conversation. They appeared to be engaged in a friendly if not spirited repartee. Two hours earlier, Sam had to physically restrain Esther from fighting with Qu Min. Now they appeared to be the best of friends. Perhaps the champagne had mitigated Esther’s ill feelings toward Qu Min, but he knew that Esther always held a grudge. Sam put the Moreau dossier back into his briefcase. He would finish reading it at another time. This was one party he wasn’t about to miss.
Sam got up from his seat and sat down next to Esther. Radford was in the midst of pontificating about his favorite subject: gambling.
“The best odds of all the table games in Monaco is craps. No place else in the world allows you to wager up to twenty times your bet, behind the line. They must pay off true odds on that bet. In other words, say your point is a four. If you bet a hundred dollars behind the line, you get paid off two to one odds provided you roll a four before you roll a seven.”
“It’s too complicated for me to follow. I was never very good in Math. Sam do you understand what Buddy is saying?”
“Yes, of course. He’s correct. If you bet a hundred dollars straight up on the four they pay off nine dollars for every five dollars wagered. If you bet one hundred dollars you win one hundred and eighty if the shooter rolls a four before the seven; but behind the line you would win two hundred dollars for the same bet. That’s a ten percent take versus no take at all so the strategy in craps is to lay it on big behind the line, especially if there is a hot shooter. Most big gamblers don’t bet heavy when the shooter first comes out; they bet big only after they know the point.”
“You seem to know your probabilities when it comes to craps,” Radford said to Sam.
“It’s my business to assess the probabilities. I’m sure that you must take probabilities into account when you enter a horse into a big race. You have to weigh the likelihood of the horse winning a share of the purse versus the entry fee. I know from your many successes that you must be an expert at weighing the odds. I must say that it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Sam extended his hand. Radford grasped it powerfully. Sam figured that the strength in Radford’s grip was somehow related to horse training.
“I know you well from your TV appearances, Mr. Sonn. I’ve seen you often on Court TV. You offer a distinctly different point of view from the typical D.A. types that appear on the show.”
“I try to think like the jury would. I analyze each case from a logical perspective not a legal one.”
“It is your powers of deductive reasoning that comes through to the TV audience. You’re Sherlock Holmes reincarnated.”
“I’m flattered. Esther has become my Watson of late. She’s proven her mettle in a number of cases.”
“Sam’s exaggerating. I know very little about the business.”
“Come, come, Esther, you can’t underestimate a woman’s intuition when it comes to figuring out a whodunit,” Qu Min said.
“That’s very true, Miss Lee,” Sam affirmed. “She always sees things differently than I do. Her intuition is particularly good at the racetrack. I study the form and can’t pick a winner, while she looks over the jockeys and horses during the Post Parade and invariably comes up with the winner. Call it ESP or good horse sense; I can’t explain it. It’s uncanny.”
“Sam, I’ve come across one or two gamblers in my lifetime who have made similar claims. It’s extremely rare, but I do believe that some people have powers of ESP,” Buddy said.
“Nonsense,” Esther said, “I bet on the horse with the biggest tail.” They all laughed.
“I’m going to have to invite you both down to Santa Anita. I’d like to see your intuitive powers at work,” Radford said.
“I’ve never been out to Santa Anita. It must be a beautiful track,” Esther replied.
“It’s very beautiful, especially when you pick a few winners,” Qu Min said.
“Personally, I enjoy my four weeks in Saratoga. We won the Travers Stakes this year with Hieroglyph. He went gate to wire. He has a shot of being named Horse of the Year. After we get back from Monaco, he’s going into syndication. We’re pointing him toward the two million dollar Breeder’s Cup Classic in the fall. Maybe you and Esther would like to buy in?”
“It all depends how we fare in Monaco,” Sam answered.
“Just fade me when I’m shooting. I’m one hot roller. I once held the dice for forty-five minutes.”
“Sam, I’d love to have my picture taken in the winner’s circle,” Esther said. She was practically jumping out of her seat with enthusiasm.
“There’s no place like the winner’s circle. You feel like you’re on top of the world.” Qu Min asserted, “It’s better than sex.”
“We’ll I don’t know about that,” Radford said, “but it is the next best thing.”
“What do you think, Sam, is it better than sex?” Qu Min asked as she placed her hand on Sam’s leg.
“Nothing is better than sex,” Sam replied.
Chapter 4
The Stupidity of Man
Saturday, May 12, late afternoon.
L’hotel de St. Marie is the most exclusive resort in Monaco —— if not the world. Located in Monaco-Ville, it offers a panoramic view of the city. Suites range from five to ten thousand a night. Le Chateau de Pompeii is the most luxurious lodging in the complex and the most exclusive. Overlooking the main hotel on Mont Agel, it is replete with its own gardens, sundeck, pool and spas. Guests receive a comp for the accommodations by meeting a wager minimum of fifty thousand dollars a night at the casino which is a short boat ride from the hotel. Only royalty are permitted to occupy Le Chateau de Pompeii, but that restriction is a mere formality, easily overcome by the payment of a tribute tax, which goes directly into the coffers of the Royal Family. In return, the Prince Albert’s personal secretary bestows an honorary title effective for the length of the stay. The attendants of Le Chateau refer to the guests accordingly, as His or Her Serene Majesty.
The late afternoon sun had already refracted from floral white to blanched almond.
