t hear us at all, how come she see and hear
spirits? Just talk, talk, talk all the time."

Clocker frowned, thinking. "These catatonics don't see or hear us, but
they sure as Citation hear and see _something_."

Doc Hawkins stood up with dignity, hardly weaving, and handed a bill to
the waiter. "I was hoping to get a private racing tip from you, Clocker.
Freshly sprung from the alcoholic ward, I can use some money. But I see
that your objectivity is impaired by emotional considerations. I
wouldn't risk a dime on your advice even after a race is run."

"I didn't expect you to believe me," said Clocker despairingly. "None of
you pill-pushers ever do."

"I can't say about your psycho-doping," declared Arnold Wilson Wyle,
also rising. "But I got faith in your handicapping. I'd still like a
long shot at Hialeah if you happen to have one."

"I been too busy trying to help Zelda," Clocker said in apology.

They left, Doc Hawkins pausing at the bar to pick up a credit bottle to
see him through his overdue medical column.

Handy Sam slipped on his shoes to go. "Stick with it, Clocker. I said
you was a scientist--"

"_I_ said it," contradicted Buttonhole, lifting himself out of the chair
on Handy Sam's lapels. "If anybody can lick this caper, Clocker can."

Oil Pocket glumly watched them leave. "Doctors not think spirits real,"
he said. "I get sick, go to Reservation doctor. He give me medicine. I
get sicker. Medicine man see evil spirits make me sick. Shakes rattle.
Dances. Evil spirits go. I get better."

"I don't know what in hell to think," confided Clocker, miserable and
confused. "If it would help Zelda, I'd cut my throat from head to foot
so I could become a spirit and get the others to lay off her."

"Then you spirit, she alive. Making love not very practical."

"Then what do I do--hire a medium?"

"Get medicine man from Reservation. He drive out evil spirits."

Clocker pushed away from the table. "So help me, I'll do it if I can't
come up with something cheaper than paying freight from Oklahoma."

"Get Zelda out, I pay and put her in show."

"Then if I haul the guy here and it don't work, I'm in hock to you.
Thanks, Oil Pocket, but I'll try my way first."

* * * * *

Back in his hotel room, waiting for the next day so he could visit
Zelda, Clocker was like an addict at the track with every cent on a
hunch. After weeks of neglecting his tip sheet to study catatonia, he
f