Dames Don’t Care (2 page)

I grin.

"Me too!' I tell him.

Then I shut up.

"You are in thees neighbourhood a long time?" he asks me. "I deed not theenk I 'ave seen you before. You see, senor, you are ver' lucky to find us open at thees time-eet is nearly three o'clock-but tonight we 'ave a little party 'ere as you see. I 'ope we shall see you some more."

The waiter guy comes back with the whisky. I pour myself a stiff shot an' pass the bottle to this guy.

"Have a drink," I tell him, "an' who might you be?"

He smiles an' waves his hand that he don't want a drink.

"I am Periera," he says. "I manage thees place. Eet is a ver' good place, when you get to know eet."

"Swell," I tell him. "I'm stickin' around the neighbourhood for a bit," I go on, "so you'll see some more of me."

He grins an' he goes off.

After a bit the waiter comes in with my ham an' eggs an' I start eatin'. After a bit the guitar guys start playin' again, an' sure as a gun the gigolo guy gets up an' starts cavortin' around with the dame. This old lady is so keen on doin' a hot rumba that it looks as if she is goin' to bust outa her gown at any minute.

As they come swayin' around my way, I swallow some whisky quick an' make out that I am a little bit high. When they get opposite me I look up at the guy an' I grin. He grins back.

"Hi'yah, sissy?" I say, good an' loud.

You coulda heard a pin drop. The party on the right stop drinkin' an' the guys at the bar spin around. The big boy stops dancin' an' takes the dame back to the table an' then he walks sorta casually over to me.

"An' what did you say?" he asks me.

"I asked you how you was, sissy," I tell him.

This guy is quick. He takes one step forward, an' as I am about to get up he kicks my feet sideways an' busts me in the nose at the same time. I go down with a wallop, but I am pretty quick an' I shoot after him an' mix it. I put up a quick uppercut, which he sidesteps an' when I try a straight one he blocks it. I get hold of his shin an' yank him over to me an' he trips me, Japanese scissor fashion, an' we go down again. The band has stopped playin' an' as I flop I can see Periera comm across.

As I go to get up sissy smacks me down again, an' when I do get on my feet I am lookin' not quite so hot.

I stand there swayin' a bit as if I was high, an' I let out a hiccup so's they'll be certain.

Periera stands smilin' at me.

"Senor," he says. "I am sorry that you should make some troubles with people in my service. Pleese don't do eet some more. Eef you are hurt I am sorry."

He starts brushin' off my coat where it is dusty.

The sissy has gone off back to his table to the dame. I look across at him.

"Pleese not to start sometheen else, senor," says Periera. "We do not like some troubles here."

I flop down in my chair.

"I reckon you're right at that," I tell him. "I reckon I had too much before I come here an' anyhow he was right to smack me in the puss. It looks like he ain't as big a sissy as he looks," I go on.

He smiles.

"Listen, Pereira," I say. "You go across to that wdY an' tell him I'm durn sorry, an' that I'd like him to come an' have a drink with me so's there ain't any feelin's over this. I'm goin' over there for some air."

I get up an' I stagger across the room to the side where the windows are, an' I pick a table in the corner. Periera goes across to the sissy an' speaks to this guy, an' after a bit he gets up, says something to the fat dame an' comes over. As he stands facin' me he hands me the double wink again.

"Listen, pal," I say, nice an' loud, "I reckon that was a not very hot thing to say to you. I reckon that if you are a sissy then I'm in Iceland. Sit down an' have a drink on it."

We shake hands an' he sticks something in my hand. I yell for the waiter guy an' get the whisky an' glasses brought oven Nobody much is payin' any attention to me now, the fun bein' over, an' after I have poured the drinks I light a cigarette an start waggin' my head an' smilin' like I was makin' a lot of light talk.

Under the table I look at what he put in my hand. It is his Federal badge. I slip it back to him.

"OK, Sagers," I tell him, smilin' nice an' polite, with a swell hiccup, for the benefit of all concerned. "What do you know?"

He gives himself a cigarette an' under cover of lightin' this he starts talkin' quick, smilin' an' gesticulann' like we was havin' some airy conversation.

"Plenty," he says, "but nothing that seems to look like any-thing. I come out to Palm Springs an' started to muscle around for a job. Told 'em I'd been tryin' for extra work at the coast studios. I contact some old lady who gets me a job at the Miranda, but pretty soon I see this is the job I want, so I get myself fired. The only way I can get in here is by doin' this pansy dancin' partner act.

"This place is the berries. They got everything. They'll take you for a toothpick. There's some play goes on upstairs that would make the Federal reserve Bank look like a five an' ten, an' the roulette wheel's so crooked that one night when some guy won something the croupier went into a decline. The guy over in the corner with the fancy moustache is runnin' nose candy. This is the feller who heat the New York Narcotic Squad to it three years back-what he don't know about sellin' drugs could be typed on the back of a stamp. The guys who come here ain't so hot, neither. Some of 'em are the usual Palm Springs daddies lookin' for somethin' swell with curves an' some of 'em look like they could do with ten to fifty years. The women are a mixed bunch. Some of 'em work here an' some I don't know. There's all sorts of janes bust around here."

He pushes the bottle over.

"What's your front?" he asks.

"I'm fakin' to come from Magdalena, Mexico," I tell him. "I'm supposed to be bringin' you some news that a guy's left you some money an' that I've got a roll on account for you. That gets you outa here. Then I'm aimin' to stick around for a week or so before goin' back - that is unless something breaks. Now... where's the dame?"

"She's around," he says. "She gets me guessin' an' she'll get you guessin', Caution. If she owns this place then I'm a greaser. The manager guy Periera treats her like she was nothin'. She does a hostess act around here an' looks like she could bite a snake's head off. She's permanently burned up. She's got class an' she dresses like a million dollars. The real boss is Periera."

"Does she live here?" I ask him.

"Nope. There's a little rancho, way back over the intersection off towards the Dry Lake. She lives there. It ain't far about ten miles from here. I've cased it. Usually there ain't anybody around there except some woman who cleans up. Pretty often there ain't anybody there at all."

"OK," I tell him. "Now listen. In a coupla minutes I'm goin' to blow outa here an' take a look at this ranch. If there ain't anybody around maybe I'll have a look inside. When I scram you spill the beans about how this guy in Arispe has left you this dough an' that you're firin' yourself an' goin' to Mexico to collect. Tomorrow mornin' pack up an' get out. Go into Palm Springs an' make a big play that you are goin' to Mexico. See the Chief of Police an' tell him to lay right off this dump while I'm stickin' around. Tell him to tell the Bank Manager here to keep his trap shut about that counterfeit bond. Then fade out for the border by car. When you're well away switch; ditch the car at Yuma, grab a plane an' get back to Washington. Tell 'em I'm here an' all set. Got me?"

"I got you," he says. "But I don't like it, Lemmy. I sorta got an idea in my head that somebody around here's leery to the fact that I ain't an honest-to-god film extra bein' a dancin' partner. I reckon they're suspicious."

"So what?" I tell him. "Suspicion don't hurt nobody. OK, Sagers."

We start drinkin' an' talkin' again, an' after a bit I put up

a big act of shakin' hands with him, an' call for the bill. I pay

it an' give a big buenos noches to Periera who is stickin'

around the entrance, smilin' like he was in Heaven, an' then

I get the car an' scram.

I drive along till I come to the intersection an' I take the main desert road. It's still plenty hot. I step on it an' pretty soon I see this ranch. It is the usual sorta place. I pull up behind a joshua tree an' get out an' take a look around. There ain't no lights an' there ain't a sign of life. I go around the back an' it's just the same. There is a stake fence around this place an' after a bit I find a gate an' I go through. I amble up to the back veranda an' knock on the door, but nobody don't take any notice.

I think I will try a fast one, so I put in a little heavy work on the door with a steel tool I got, an' in about two minutes I've got the lock open as good as any professional buster-in coulda done it an' I step inside.

I pull out my electric flash. I am in a sorta little hallway that is furnished not too bad. In front of me is a passage leadin' through to the front hall an' doors each side. At the end of this passage on the right is some stairs leadin' to the floor above. I reckon that maybe what I am lookin' for is likely to be in a bedroom, so I ease along the passage an' up the stairs an' start gumshoein' around tryin' to find the dame's bedroom.

There is four bedrooms up there. One looks like a hired girl's room an' the other is a sorta boxroom - there is all sorts of junk lying around. On the other side of the hall there are the other two rooms. One of 'em might belong to anybody, an' it don't have any special features that attract my attention. When I try the last door I find it is locked an' so I think that maybe this is the room I am lookin' for.

I take a look at the lock an' I think that it might fall for the spider key I got in my pocket, an' I try it out an' it works. I have the door open pronto an' go in. Directly I get into the room I can smell that this is what I am lookin' for - the per-fume comes up an' hits me. It's swell - I always did like Carnation.

I go over an' pull the shades over the windows before I switch on the flash, an' then I take a look around.

It is a dame's room all right. There is a wrap lyin' over the back of a rest chair, an' there is a long line of the swellest shoes you ever saw. Oh boy, was they good? There is little shiny patents with French heels an' there is dress shoes in satin an crepe-de-chine. There is polished brown walkin' shoes, ridin' boots an' a pair of pink quilted satin mules that woulda knocked a bachelor for the home run. I tell you these shoes was swell. They sorta told you that the dame who owned 'em knew her way about, an' I reckon that if the rest of her kit was on the same level, well, she was an eyeful any time.

I nose around. I am tryin' to figure out where a dame - a clever dame-would hide some papers so that nobody would guess where to find 'em supposin' they figured to look. I reckon that either she'd have 'em stuck on her body an' carry 'em around, or she'd put 'em in an innocent sorta place where no smart guy would think of lookin' for 'em.

Over in the corner is a pile of books standin' on a little table. I go over an' look at 'em. I run the pages of the top books through my fingers an' they are OK but when I grab the fourth book - a leather bound book of poetry - do I get a kick or do I? Somebody has cut a big square out of about fifty pages in the book, an' stuck inside is a packet of letters. I look at the address on the envelope of the top one, an' I do a big grin because it is addressed to Granworth C. Aymes at the Claribel Apartments, New York City.

It looks as if I have pulled a fast one on Henrietta. I stick the packet of letters in my pocket, put the books back, close an' lock the door behind me an' scram downstairs. I stick around for a bit just to see if anybody has been tailin' me, but everything is OK.

I go out the same way as I come in, an' fix the back door so's it looks all right. I go over to the car an' I head back, intendin' to take the main desert road back to Palm Springs, but before I have gone far I come to the conclusion that I will go back to the Hacienda Altmira an' just have a look around an' see how the party is goin'.

I am there in about fifteen minutes.

The electric sign is turned off an' the place is all dark. There ain't a sign of anything. Way up on the top floor facin' me I can see a little light comm' between the window shades.

I go up to the entrance an' it is all fastened up. Then I think of the wire windo~vs around on the left, an' I get around there. They are locked too, but they are pretty easy, an' I have one open pronto.

The moon has come up an' there is a lot of it tricklin' through a high window above the bar.

I shut the window behind me an' start easin' across the floor. I am keepin' quiet an' if you asked me why I couldn't tell you. It just seems sorta strange that this place shoulda closed down so quick-especially when everybody looked like they was having such a swell time.

When I get past the band platform, where the bar starts, I stop and take a look, because from here I can see the bottom of the adobe stairs that lead up the side of the wall. There is a piece of moonlight shinin' on the stairs an' as I look I can see somethin' shinin'. I go over an' pick it up. It is the silver cord that Sagers was wearin' in his silk shirt, an' there is a bit of silk stickin' to it, so it looks like somebody dragged it off him.

I turn off the flash an' stick around. I can't hear nothin'. I lay off the upstairs an' start workin' around the walls, nice an' quiet, feelin' for door knobs. I miss' the entrance walls because I know that the passage leads straight out front.

I get over the bar because I reckon that there will be a door behind, probably leadin' upstairs an' connectin' with the balcony some place. There is a door all right an' I have to spider it open because it is locked. On the other side is a storeroom. I go in an' use my flash. The room is about fifteen feet square an' filled with wine an' whisky cases an' a coupla big ice-boxes. There is empty bottles an' stuff lyin' all over the place.

I ease over an' look in the first icebox. It is filled with sacks. In the second icebox I find Sagers. He is doubled up in a sack an' he has been shot plenty. I reckon he was on the run when they got him because he is shot twice in the legs an' three times through the guts at close range afterwards. I can see the powder burns on his shirt. Somebody has yanked his neck cord off him an' torn his shirt open.