The Grocery Store Bookie

Synopsis of a recent California newspaper item:

            “The owner of the produce section at a North Oakland market has been charged with taking illegal bets as well as orders for fruits and vegetables.

            “Described as one of the largest bookmakers in Oakland, he allegedly took $400 to $500 a day in bets, mostly on Golden Gate Fields and Hollywood Park.

            “After officers devoted two weeks to observing his activities at the store, a search warrant served there led to the discovery of 28 grocery bags of betting markers and tally sheets and $14,000 in cash.”

Scene:

            The produce section of the Kumquat Kwikway, first store in a planned chain of California supermarkets.  A somewhat shabbily dressed customer is busily squeezing the tomatoes when the Produce Manager, ‘Bet A Bag’ Gates, approaches.

            “Can I cover you…er, I mean, can I help you, sir?” Gates asks.

            “Yeah, well, I was just wondering where you keep the tip sheets on Del Mar.”

            “Tip sheets?  Sir, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong store.  This is the highly respected produce section of the world’s first Kumquat Kwikway, which is certainly not to be confused with something as illegal as…”

            “Tommy Tomato sent me,” the customer whispered.  “My name’s Sam.”

            “Oh,” Gates whispered back, looking around furtively.  “That’s different.  You got the password?”

            “Horseradish,” Sam whispered back.

            “Del Mar’s under the bananas, bin two,” Gates said quietly.

            Just then a matronly woman approached Gates.  “Excuse me, young man, but where can I find Instant Anchovies?”

            “The third at Hialeah, lady,” Gates said absently, “but it’s too late to…”

            He noticed she was suddenly looking at him curiously.  “Uh, what I meant to say is that they’re in aisle three, which we call our Hialeah section.  A little inside grocery store humor there, right?  Ha, ha, right?  And you don’t want to be late because it’s past post, I mean, it’s past the post near aisle two.  Right next to the artitotes…er, I mean, artichokes.  Can’t miss it.”

            “Yes, well,” she sniffed, “thank you…I think.”

            Just then Sam returned from the banana bin.  “Didn’t see too much I liked there,” he said.

            “Well,” Gates said, “if you’re not interested in betting today, how about a good deal on some fresh mushrooms?  I understand the latest shipment is stakes placed.  And we’re having a special on some Mexican dates and fresh pomegranates, guaranteed non-traceable.”

            “Nah, that don’t interest me too much.  You got anything in cucumbers?”

            “An offer you can’t refuse, just leave your order in the bottom cellophane bag next to the russet potatoes.”

            “Okay, I’ll think about it.  In the meantime, you got a line on the sixth at Bay Meadows?”

            Gates looked around to make sure no one was listening.  “It’s under the rutabagas,” he whispered, “but if you want any action on that leave the slip and the money under the kumquats in the next bin.  Nobody bothers the kumquats these days.”

            “Thanks,” Sam nodded, heading for the rutabagas.

            Another customer approached Gates.  “How much is watercress?” she asked.

            “Twenty to one, less the juice.”

            “I beg your pardon?”

            “Oh, excuse me, what I meant to say is that we have the most inexpensive watercress in town, and it’s twenty to one you’ll enjoy it because it’s so juicy.”

            “Juicy?”

            “Well, I really meant to say, it’s so watery.  Yes, ma’am, we have the wateriest watercress that ever entered the starting gate.”

            “Starting gate?”

            “Uh, that’s just a little grocery store humor there, too.  This is our first store so we’re just starting, right?  And didn’t you notice that cute little gate near the front entrance?”

            “I didn’t see any gate.”

            “Oh.  Well, maybe someone scratched it…uh, I mean, snatched it.  Anyway, the watercress is right down this aisle next to the radishes.”

            The woman went down the aisle as Sam again returned.  “Okay,” he said, “I left the bet under the kumquats like you told me.  But you were out of cellophane bags, so I wrapped it in one of the Racing Forms that I found next to the celery.  It’s on page 17, where they have the block that tells you how to open the Racing Form, which you need to open to read the block on page 17 about how to open it.

            “Now, as long as I’m here, Tommy Tomato said I should pick up his winnings from last week.  You got the cash?”

            “Sure, it’s right under the…

            “Lady!  Don’t squeeze the casaba melons!

            “Geez,” Gates whispered to Sam, “that’s where I keep the Exacta markers.”

            The startled woman looked at Gates.  “But I just wanted to see if the ones on the bottom looked a little better, that’s all.  I’m going to hurt a melon?”

            “Oh,” Gates replied.  “I thought you mistook them for the Charmin.  Uh, I mean, our melons really aren’t very good.  As a matter of fact,” he said in a confidential tone, “we have the worst melons in the state.  You’d do much better if you went to Food World for that.”

            “Oh, I was just there this morning to pick up some avocados, they have the ones with the small pits, but that nice Mr. Landers wasn’t in.  Something about having to go meet God, so I thought I’d stop by here.”

            “Yes, well, it’s a strange business.  We’re out of avocados, but maybe you’d like to look at our cabbage instead?  It just came in this morning and there hasn’t been any action…that is, no ones squeezed any of them yet, so you should get a choice selection.”

            “Yes, well, thank you,” she said somewhat bewildered while heading for the cabbages.

            “Look, Sam,” Gates said, “we’re too busy today with people who want to buy food at retail prices to handle this in the usual manner.  Why don’t you come into the back room with me and I’ll get Tommy’s money out of one of the grocery bags.”

            “You keep money in grocery bags?”

            “Only a little as a reserve supply, about $500 a sack.  Little trick I learned when I was just getting started in the business and someone ripped off six cases of carrots.  Cost me a bundle.”

            “$500 a sack, huh?  That’s about what I pay for a bag of groceries these days anyway, how about if we simply take a bag without any money in it and fill it up in the meat department instead?”

            “Better not, the Meat Manager’s been mad at me ever since he found out that I only pay 100-to-1 on Exactas when he thought he’d hit for three grand.”

            “Yeah, I can see that would be a problem, we’d better settle for the cash.”

            As the two were approaching the back room, a nervous checker ran up to Gates.

            “Sir,” he said breathlessly, “we have a major crisis up front, we’re almost out of bags and the store is suddenly jammed with customers.”

            “Well,” Gates allowed, “I have a reserve supply of bags, it’ll just take a few minutes for me to make them, er, available.”

            “Oh,” the clerk said, “if you mean the ones I found under the strawberry crates in your office, I had to use those this morning.  And that’s what’s so funny about this afternoon, the customers are the same ones who were here this morning and they all want to buy a bag of peanuts and have it double bagged.

            “Which reminds me, sir, why were the strawberries in your office?  They, well, sort of smelled funny.

            “Sir?  Are you alright?  You don’t look well.”

            “Never mind,” Gates said, burying his head in his hands. 

            “C’mon, Sam,” he recovered, “I’ve got an ace in the hole in the celery section.”

            At the celery section Gates began sorting through the stalks.  “Yes, here’s a $200 stalk and…yes, here’s one with $100 in it.  That should settle us up.  Sure you don’t want some stakes placed mushrooms?”

            Just then eight uniformed policemen and two detectives rushed up to the two men.  “Alright, Gates,” one of them yelled through a bullhorn while brandishing a .38 revolver, “drop the stalk!”

            “Okay,” Gates sighed, “you got me.  But tell me, how did you make me?”

            “It wasn’t easy,” a detective said, putting his gun away while four officers proceeded to shackle him with handcuffs and leg irons.  “Matter of fact, we got lucky.  A patrolman’s wife noticed some guy crying over the onions one day while putting an envelope under them.  She didn’t think the onions were that strong.”

            “Yeah,” Gates shrugged, “I knew I shouldn’t have put the Daily Double action in the onions.  But is that all it took?”

            “Naw, but that made us suspicious, so we had an agent pose as a cauliflower for two weeks.  He thought it was a little strange that you changed the squash four times a day.”

            “I thought one of those cauliflower heads was getting a little hairy when I watered them last week.”

            “But the real break,” the detective mused, nibbling on a carrot and a $20 marker, “came when one of our off-duty officers bought a head of lettuce here.”

            “Lettuce?”

            “Yeah, he thought it was a little strange when he got home and noticed that the leaves were all $50 bills.”

            “Damn,” Gates said, “I knew I should have put the fifties in the Romaine bin.  Better color, you know.”

            “So, while it may have taken four teams to watch you twenty four hours a day, during which time we blew arrests on six rapes, three murders, a bank robbery and thirteen cases of aggravated assault, we figured it was worth it.”

            “Worth it?” Gates asked as he was being led away.  “Someday this will all be legal.”

            “Maybe,” the detective smiled, pinching a tomato, “but in the meantime, ‘lettuce’ do our job.  That’s,” he laughed, “a little police humor there, right?”

            “Oh, God,” Gates moaned quietly as he was being led past the produce bins on the way to an armored car surrounded by eight SWAT team members carrying machine guns.

            “Him,” the detective reflected while picking up a Racing Form sticking out from underneath the kumquat bin, “we get tomorrow as soon as Food World opens.”