Maximino's Musings
Part 1
“ – And now Snowball’s Chance in Hell is in the lead, with Rusty Anchor not far behind! This is a nail biting moment, ladies and gentlemen, the odds are stacked against them both –“
Looking out of his window above the track, Maximino smiled and tapped ash from his cigar into a potted plant. Sometimes he thought he loved nothing in his life – or rather, his afterlife – than his cats. Except Olivia. And good cigars, of course. He never watched a race without one. Cigarettes just didn’t have the staying power.
The Land of the Dead had been good to Maximino. After arriving in El Marrow several years before, he had travelled through the Petrified Forest in a customised sports car, coming finally to Rubacava, where his keen business mind and ability to make connections had stood him in good stead. He had bought Feline Meadows - then a seedy, rundown track with potholes in the dirt and a buzzing neon sign – practically with small change, and transformed it into a thriving track both he and Rubacava could be proud of. It went without saying that Feline Meadows was also an excellent cover, especially in Rubacava where the one and only police officer was particularly fond of gambling.
Maximino let Bogen play the cats, but kept him on credit, making sure he knew it too. With a few side businesses and his name associated with Olivia’s club, Maximino knew he was a model citizen.
He glanced down out of the window again. Rusty Anchor was coming level, but Snowball had good stamina and she wasn’t yielding an inch.
Of course, he knew it wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, a hot new talent would arrive in Rubacava and buy, beg or steal his track from him. Maximino, who had on occasion been that hot new talent during his lifetime, wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would never happen. Even when it did, he had enough money to tide him over any rough spots quite nicely. And, if things got really over his head, he could always go back to El Marrow and make a clean break there. He had heard business opportunities were starting to blossom there quite nicely. Maybe he should think about it now, rather than when things got rough.
He drew on his cigar again and checked on Snowball. Flagging a bit now, but she would pull through.
“Hello, Maximino.”
He turned around to see Manny Calavera, the latest break in Rubacava, standing in his office wearing a plain tux. When he had first arrived, Maximino had wondered briefly whether he was watching the arrival of his successor, but Manny was small time. A few roulette tables and a bar weren’t exactly big business, although it had been a good move to put his name up on that cactus for all to see.
“Well, if it isn’t Manny Calavera. Come to see how the big boys play?”
“From what I can tell, they play with kitties.”
Maximino laughed. “Kitties, roulette tables, what’s the difference? They go round and round all day, and they’re both much better when they’re fixed. Am I right, Cal?”
Manny shrugged.
“So how’s business down at the Café?”
“Bogen’s cleaning me out of poker chips again. How come he’s not here, anyway?”
“Because your driver is up on the top floor, going through wine barrels like peanuts.”
“Glottis has a gambling problem, you know. You should cut him loose.”
“Well, he doesn’t have a problem here. His credit’s good with me.”
Manny subsided, which Maximino knew was wise. He had something under his desk for people who talked too much, but he didn’t think this was the time or place. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of whisky and two glasses. “You should get out of this game, you know,” he advised as he poured and offered a glass to Manny. He tossed it back. “You trying to tell me something, Max?”