Radio Man: Don’t know how I’m going to stand the suspense, Sam!
Buckley: I’m kind of limp myself, Harry. Get set, fans — you’re seeing history in the making — maybe!.. Big one coming up! (Now the crowd is silent.) Nobody’s breathing... there goes Mayo’s mighty right arm... he’s taking his wind-up... here it comes... (A mighty roar goes up.) Strike Three! The game is over! Slats Mayo’s pitched a no-hit, no-run game! The fans are going crazy — both clubs have rushed onto the field to surround Slats — Harry, take this mike while I see if I can’t get through to Slats Mayo!
Scene 4: Under the Stands at the Stadium
(Mousie comes into the scene humming “Take Me Out to the Ball Game?” Mousie stops humming as he hears Slats Mayo approach. No one else is about.)
Mousie: (Gaily) Hi, Mr. Mayo. Swell game ya just pitched.
Mayo: (He is a tall lean Southerner.) How come y’all sent me this here phony check to the clubhouse? Signed with some name... Homer Cooley...
Mousie: It brought ya out under da stands to see me, di’n’t it, Slats? Now why’d you do dat, I wonder?
Mayo: What’s yo’ name? Who are yuh?
Mousie: Da Mouse. My pals call me “Mousie.”
Mayo: Well?
Mousie: Mr. Slats Mayo, what you done today’s gonna make you da highest-priced pitcher in baseball. Now I’m a right guy, see? I wanna protec’ yer future. This here sample check I sent ya wit’ my note — it was jus’ to remind ya of a little check ya once signed back home in Memphis ’fore ya got into big-time baseball. Ya signed dat check, but not wit’ yer own name — no, sir, ya signed da name Homer Cooley, yer ol’ lady’s neighbor. Da story never come out. Never will, neither — ’less I tell it!
Mayo: (Hoarsely) How’d y’all know that? Ah thought that was dead an’ buried!
Mousie: (Softly) I got de original check, Slats. Dat’s my bus’ness — collectin’ souvenirs. (Sharply.) If dat forged check gets in da Commissioner’s hands, yer t’rough. He won’t stand fer no scandal in baseball — dey don’ want no crooks in dis game! (Slyly.) Maybe I oughta spill anyways, like a good baseball fan...
Mayo: (Hoarsely) Ah hadda do it, Mistuh. It was fo’ mah mothuh. Muh dad died, an’ Ah was jest a kid...
Mousie: Aw, stop it. Yer breakin’ my heart.
Mayo: (Abruptly) What yuh want?
Mousie: A pay-off. Say two grand on account. Just ta keep me happy till ya cash in next season, see? Here’s my address, Slats — I’ll be home all Friday night — drop aroun’. (He shuffles off, laughing.)
Mayo: (In a hard, low voice) Ah’ll — drop — around, Mistuh Mouse!
Scene 5: The Track
(The crowd shouts “They’re off!” and we hear thunderous thudding of horses hooves passing the announcer’s booth.)
Buckley: ...and they’re all bunched passing the stand... fighting for the rail. Bloodstone’s made it! Bloodstone out front, Jiminy and Lord Stanley right behind him... There’s Firefly, a rank outsider, coming up strong! He’s passing Jiminy... Lord Stanley... he’s half a length behind Bloodstone... rounding the turn... this is Sam Buckley, your sports announcer, bringing you the Great Eastern Handicap... Bloodstone’s running strong — Firefly at his heels — rest of the field are strung out behind — looks like a two-horse race... Bloodstone’s the heavy track favorite, public’s backed him to the hilt... At the far turn Firefly’s gaining... creeping up... If Bloodstone’s nosed out, it’s a big day for the bookies... Going into the stretch they’re neck and neck! Wait — yes, here it comes! — everybody’s been expecting it — Peewee Robbin, Bloodstone’s jockey, is using his whip hard — Bloodstone always has to taste the whip in the stretch — yes, there’s Bloodstone pulling away from Firefly — one length... two lengths... (The crowd gasps.) The whip’s fallen out of Peewee Robbin’s hand! Without the whip Bloodstone’s just another nag — there’s Peewee desperately slapping Bloodstone with his right hand — but it’s no go — the thoroughbred won’t respond — he needs that whip— There’s Firefly running magnificently — neck and neck — pulling ahead... HE’S OVER! (Great yells.) Well, folks, it’s Firefly by half a length, Bloodstone second, Golightly third, Lord Stanley fourth...
Scene 6: The Jockeys’ Clubhouse
(There is a happy knock on Peewee Robbin’s door.)
Peewee: Come in! (Mousie enters)
Mousie: Greetings, Peewee!
Peewee: Don’t I feel bad enough losin’ my race without havin’ to look at that ratty moosh o’ yours? Shove off, Mousie! Every time I think of how I dropped my whip—
Mousie: You feel bad, huh? Ts, ts, ts, ts! Peewee, I woulda swore ya dropped yer whip on poipose.
Peewee: So Bloodstone’d lose, I s’pose. Why, you short-change, shifty, boot-lickin’ tout—
Mousie: Yeah, so Bloodstone’d lose. (Sharply.) I got ya cold, Peewee. You — Bloodstone’s jockey — you laid a five-grand bet undercover on Firefly ta win! It’s a fix!
Peewee: (Excitedly) Who told ya? Who sez so? It’s a lie!
Mousie: Never mind who tol’ me, Mr. Peewee Robbin. Da Mouse — sees all, hears all, says nuttin’ — fer a price!
Peewee: Aaaah. Who’d believe you?
Mousie: Da Stooards, Peewee — dey might not believe me, but dey’d believe da guy you sent ta lay da bet fuh ya! I got his signed statement! An’ what would ya do wit’ da bet ya’re gonna collect — pickle it? Peewee, ya’re gonna gimme dat dough, see? Den yer okay! If ya don’t, I spill! (There is a pause.)
Peewee: (Sullenly) I ain’t collected yet.
Mousie: But ya’ll have yer dough by Friday, Peewee. So Friday night you be at my house — here’s my address — ready to pay off. See? (Mousie laughs and exits.)
Peewee: (In a whisper) I... see, Mousie. (Savagely.) But maybe you won’t!
Scene 7: A Street in East Flatbush, Brooklyn
(Ellery Queen and Nikki Porter are seated in a car parked unobtrusively at the curb.)
Nikki: Ho-hum! You take me to the most thrilling places, Mr. Q.