Dames Don’t Care

CHAPTER 6

WHILE I am flying back to Palm Springs I think out how I am goin' to handle this bezusus. First of all it is a cinch that it is no good my jumpin' around pretendin' to be Mr Selby T. Frayme of Magdalena, Mexico, any longer, because it looks to me like all the guys that I don't wanta know I am a 'G' man have known about it for a helluva long time. Here is where we come right out into the open.

As far as Henrietta is concerned I reckon I have got enough on her to make her talk, because you have gotta realise that although I am certainly partial to this dame I have never allowed my personal feelin's to interfere with my business, well, not much, an' after all the fact that a jane is pretty don't mean a durn thing because it is always the hotcha numbers who get into jams.

I reckon if you was to stick an ugly jane on an island where there was a coupla hundred tough guys stickin' around nothin' much would happen; but you plant a little lady who has got this an' that in the middle of a jungle you can betcha sweet an' holy life that some guy will be busy startin' a big lion hunt just to show her what a swell guy he is.

I will go so far as to say that a travellin' salesman in Missouri once told me that if there wasn't any dames in the world there wouldn't be no crime. We talked this thing over an' after he had had half a bottle of rye he got all sentimental about it, an' said that anyway he reckoned he would sooner have crime an' dames.

He got his way all right, because eighteen months after some jane slugged him with a car spanner after which he handed in his order book an' took a one-way trip to the local cemetery.

Just how Henrietta is breakin' with these guys out at the Hacienda I do not know. This is another thing I have got to find out because it certainly looks a bit funny to me that she is stickin' around in a place actin' as hostess an' bein' kissed by some big guy who used to be the chauffeur. Maybe this Fernandez has got some pull over Henrietta, an' is makin' her toe the line which would account for her tellin' me that she might have to marry him.

It is eight o'clock when I pull in at the Miranda House in Palm Springs, an' I am good an' tired, but I reckon that I am goin' to getta move on with business an' not let any grass grow in my ears while I am doin' it.

After I have had a shower an' a meal I put a call through to the Hacienda an' ask if Mrs Aymes is around. Some guy at the other end - an' I reckon by the way he talks it is Periera-says what do I want with her, an' I tell him that what I want with her is my business an' that if he don't get her to the 'phone pronto I will come out there an' slug him one with a blackjack. After this he decides to go an' fetch her.

Pretty soon I hear Henrietta cooin' into the telephone an' I ask her if she knows where Maloney is. She says yes he's around. I tell her that I am the guy who said he was Selby Frayme an' that I am not Selby Frayme but Lemmy Caution, a Federal Agent, an' I wanta see Maloney pronto, an' that he had better get around to the Miranda House good an' quick because I wanta talk to him.

She says OK an' about nine o'clock Maloney blows in.

I take him up to my room an' I give him a drink.

"Now see here, Maloney," I tell him. "I reckon that you are stuck on this Henrietta, an' that maybe you wouldn't like to see her get into a jam, because it looks right now that that is the way things are goin'. I reckon that Henrietta has told you who I am, an' what I am doin' around here, so I don't have to exphin any of that, but what I do wanna wise you up to is this little thing. When I come down here first of all I wasn't interested in how Granworth Aymes died or whether he committed suicide or was bit to death by wild spiders, I was just musclin' around tryin' to get a line on this counterfeitin' business. All right. Well, now I reckon that I am very interested in the Granworth business because it looks to me like the two things are tied up.

"Since I have been to New York I have found out a lotta things that make it look pretty bad for Henrietta. Maybe they're right an' maybe they ain't, but it's a cinch that she's gotta watch her step-or else...

"Now murder ain't a nice charge. Maybe it's my duty to advise New York about this suggestion that Henrietta bumped Granworth, but I ain't goin' to do that. I ain't goin' to do it just for one reason an' that is it won't help me any in the counterfeitin' business, an' that is the thing that I wanta clean up right now. If Henrietta did bump Granworth then she'll fry for it some time, but maybe she didn't an' if she didn't then I'm goin' to advise her to talk plenty an' quick, otherwise she may find herself elected for the hot squat an' they tell me that dames fry just as quick an' sweet as hombres.

"OK. Well here's the first thing I'm askin' you to do. You get back to the Hacienda an' you have a talk with Henrietta, an' you tell her that I'm comin' out there tonight around midnight an' that I want a statement from her an' that she'd better make it the truth. If I think she's tryin' to pull anything on me or hidin' anything then tell you I'm goin' to hold her right away as a material witness in this counterfeitin' business, hand her over to Metts, the Chief of Police here, an' produce what I know about her bein' tied up with Granworth's death. An' if I do that there's goin' to be plenty trouble for Henrietta. Got that?"

He nods. He is lookin' durn serious.

"I got it, Caution," he says, "an' I'm certainly goin' to advise her to come clean to you. It's the only thing she can do. But," he goes on, "I tell you she didn't murder Aymes. She couldn't do a thing like that. Why...

"Can it, Maloney," I bust in. "You don't know a thing. Just because you are stuck on the jane you think she couldn't kill somebody. I have known dames who usta go to church twice Sundays who have killed guys so I don't wanta hear you tellin' me why Henrietta couldn'ta done it. She can do that for herself."

He shrugs his shoulders and lights himself a cigarette.

"All right," I go on. "Now here's something else you can do. Before I went to New York I had a talk with her, an' she said that she might have to marry Fernandez. Now I reckon that was a funny thing for her to say, because I have got the impression that she is stuck on you. Maybe you got some idea about that, huh?"

He shrugs his shoulders again.

"I can't get it," he says. "All I know is that Fernandez and Periera are the big guys around the Hacienda, that they are sorta partners, an' it might be that Henrietta feels she would be better off if she married Fernandez. It was only when I saw that Fernandez was ridin' her an' givin' her a tough time that I sorta chipped in. I was kinda sorry for her an' I think she is a swell femme."

He sits quiet for a minute sorta thinkin' to himself. After a bit he goes on.

"Now you come to mention it," he says, "it certainly looks as if Fernandez has gotta nerve to think that Henrietta would fall for a punk like him. He speaks good English but he's a lousy breed. His mother was a dago and his father was something else that smelt funny."

"That's all the more reason why she shouldn't even listen to a guy like that," I say. "Tell me something, Maloney, have you asked this dame to marry you?"

"Sure I have," he says with a grin, "an' she said she'd think it over. I reckon I ain't ever been so sorry for any dame as I am for Henrietta, an' the more so because she's a swell kid an' she don't go grievin' all the time when she's in a jam like dames usually do."

"OK, Maloney," I say. "Well, be on your way an' don't forget to tell her that I'm comm' out at twelve an' that I wanta hear some sense outa her."

He says all right an' he scrams.

I stick around until twelve o'clock an' then I get the car an' drive out to the Hacienda. There ain't many people there, because you gotta realise that at this time of the year there ain't a lotta people makin' holiday around this part of the world, an' I am wonderin' why Periera don't shut this place up for the bad season an' scram off somewhere else like most of the other guys around here do.

The band is playin' a hot number an' there are one or two couples pushin' each other around the dance floor an' some city guys from Los Angeles makin' hey-hey. I walk straight across an' up the stairs an' into the room at the top where the card playin' goes on.

There ain't anybody there except a waiter guy who is puttin' the place straight an' I ask him where Periera's office is. He shows me one of the rooms away along the balcony on the other side, over the entrance door to the main floor, an' I go along there. I open the door an' I go in.

Inside there is Periera sittin' behind a desk drinkin' a glass of whisky an' Fernandez is sittin' in the corner smokin'. They both give me a cold once-over as I go in.

"Well, bozos," I say, "here I am again, an' how's tricks?"

Periera looks up with a nasty sorta grin.

"Everytheeng is ver' good, Mr Frayme," he says with a sorta sneer.

"Cut that out, Periera," I say. "You know durn well that my name ain't Frayme. My name's Caution, an' I gotta little badge in my pocket if you'd like to see it.

Fernandez cuts in.

"What the hell do we care about your badge," he says. "I reckon that we ain't got any call to be gettin' excited about Federal badges. You ain't got anything on us, an' we don't like dicks anyhow."

"You don't say," I tell him. "I bet you don't like dicks, an' I bet you certainly don't like one who gave you a bust in the kisser like I did last time I saw you. However," I tell him, lightin' myself a cigarette, "my advice to you is to keep nice an' civil otherwise I'm probably goin' to smack you down some more. Where's Henrietta?"

He grins.

"She's just stickin' around," he says. "She's outside on the side porch with Maloney, an' the sooner you get done the better I'm goin' to like it because you make me feel sick."

"Just fancy that," I say. "Well while you're waitin' for me to come back I'll tell you something that'll help you pass the time away, Fernandez. Just you get yourself a good story about what you're doin' out here callin' yourself Fernandez an' puttin' on a big act when your name is Juan Termiglo an' you used to be chauffeur in New York to Granworth Aymes, an' see that it is a good one, otherwise I might get a bit rough with you about some phoney evidence you gave at the coroner's inquest"

"You got me wrong, copper," he says. "I never give any evidence at the coroner's inquest because I never knew anything about anybody bein' anywhere. I was at home that night an' I never saw a thing of Henrietta or anybody else, an' how do you like that?"

"OK sour puss," I say, "but I wouldn't be above framin' you for something or other, Fernandez, so watch your step otherwise you'll feel sick some more."

He grins an' lights himself a cigarette. He has got his nerve all right.

I go down the stairs an' across the floor an' out on to the side porch. Henrietta is sittin' there talkin' to Maloney. She is wearin a blue frock made of some flimsy stuff an' she looks a peach. Maloney says so long an' scrams out of it.

I pull up a chair an' sit down.

"Well, Henrietta," I say, "I reckon that Maloney has told you about it, an' what are you goin' to do?"

She looks at me an' in the moonlight I can see that her eyes are sorta smilin', as if she was amused at something.

"All right, Mr Caution," she says. "I'm going to tell you anything that you want to know. Jim Maloney says that if I tell the truth everything will be all right, an' that if I don't it may go hard with me. Shall I begin?"

"Justa minute, honey," I tell her, "an' you listen to me before we get down to cases. I don't know what's been goin' on around here but I guess it's something screwy an' I don't like it, an' I'm goin' to get to the bottom of it. Me - I like workin' along with people nice an' quiet an' no threats an' no nonsens - that is if they come clean. If they don't, well it's their own business if they get in a jam. Now I'm tellin' you this, Henrietta. You're a swell piece an' I'm for you. I think you got what it takes an' maybe you know it, but you're in a jam over this business of that phoney bond as well as the other stuff, an' the thing for you to do is to spill the works an' not forget anyhing. All right, now you tell me what happened the night you went to New York an' saw Granworth - the night he died."

"That's easy, Mr Caution," she says. "It's all quite simple, only I'm afraid that I couldn't very well prove it. I wrote some letters to Granworth telling him I wanted to see him. I'd heard that he was making a fool of himself over a woman and although I'd believed for some time that he was unfaithful I'd never had any actual proof. I was never very happy with Granworth. He drank; he was excitable and often silly, but when he made this money and said that he was going to turn over two hundred thousand dollars' worth of bonds to me I thought that maybe he'd turned over a new leaf. He talked about starting a new life together. He even went so far as to buy some more insurance - an annuity policy payable in ten years' time or at his death - so that, as he said, we should be able to face the future without worry. I remember him joking about the fact that the Insurance Company insisted on having a clause in the policy under which they would not pay if he committed suicide, because, as you may know, he tried to kill himself after a drinking bout two years ago.

"I was actually beginning to feel that maybe he meant what he said for once. I was in Hartford, Connecticut, staying with friends, when I received a letter. It was unsigned and it said that I would be well advised to keep an eye on Granworth who was making a fool of himself with a woman whose husband was beginning to get nasty about things.

"I don't take notice of anonymous letters usually, but I telephoned through to Granworth and told him about this one. He did not even trouble to deny the fact. He was merely rude about it. Then I realised that the letter was true and I wrote him two other letters, asking him what he was going to do about it, and eventually telling him that I proposed to come and see him, and to get tough with him."

"Justa minute, Henrietta," I bust in. "What happened to those letters. What did Granworth do with them?"

"I don't know," she says. "After his death, when Burdell telephoned me an' I went to New York, I saw them lying around on his desk with a lot of other papers. I meant to pick them up and destroy them, but I was worried and unhappy at the time and I forgot."

"OK," I say. "Go right ahead."

"I went to New York," she went on, "and arrived early in the evening of the 12th January. I did not go home to the apartment. I telephoned the butler and asked where my husband was. He said that he was in his office. I then called Granworth at his office and he spoke to me. He said that he just received my third letter and that he would talk to me that evening.

"He asked me to meet him at a downtown caf , I went there and after a while he drove up. He was rather excited and seemed a little drunk. We discussed the situation and he told me that he was not going to give up this woman. I said that if he did not do so I would divorce him. Then he said that if I did so he would rather leave the country than pay me alimony. He was furious and his eyes were blazing, and when he tried to drink his coffee he could hardly hold the cup because his fingers were trembling so.

"I told him that I had no need to worry about alimony; that I had the two hundred thousand Dollar Bonds that he had made over to me. For a moment I thought he was going mad, he was so enraged. Then, after a little while he said that I'd better go back to Connecticut for a week or so and that he would think it over and write me and we could come to some decision. But he said definitely that if I divorced him his life would be ruined and he would finish everything.

"I went straight back to the depot and left for Hartford. Two days afterwards Langdon Burdell telephoned me that Granworth had committed suicide. I reproached myself terribly. I thought that perhaps I was responsible for his death; that possibly I should have handled the situation differently.

"I returned to New York immediately, but when I arrived the inquest was over. Langdon Burdell told me that he had instructed the servants to say nothing about my being in New York that day; that if this fact had been mentioned the police would probably be unpleasant and question me. Burdell had said at the inquest that I was in Connecticut at the time. I was grateful for this.

"I stayed in New York for a little while, and Granworth's affairs were settled up. In his will he had said that he wanted Burdell to carry on and to have the business and offices, and there was an instruction that certain debts including the mortgage on the Hacienda Altmira - which Grarnvorth had built years ago - were to be paid out of his insurance.

"But the Insurance Company refused to pay because of the suicide clause, and so Periera who held the mortgage on the Hacienda couldn't get his money. If he hadn't been so unpleasant about the fact I would have paid him - or tried to do so-out of the bonds which had been handed to me and which were my own personal property, because Granworth had given them to me.

"You know the rest of the story. When my banking account ran down here I took one of the bonds down to the bank and tried to collect on it. They told me it was counterfeit, and that the rest of the bonds were too. Then I was in a spot. I had no money at all, and so Periera allowed me to stay on at the Hacienda in return for my services as hostess.

"That's the story, Mr Caution. Some time ago Fernandez - whose real name is Juan Termiglo and who was our chauffeur - asked me to marry him. He seems to have acquired a sort of partnership with Periera. When I laughed at him he told me that it might not be so good for me if the police knew that I had concealed the fact that I had quarrelled with my husband an hour or so before his death, and when I discovered that the bonds were counterfeit he asked me again and practically suggested that the safest thing for me to do would be to marry him in order that the other servants should keep quiet about what they knew."

"OK, Henrietta," I tell her. "If that's the truth it's a good story an' if you made it up it's still good. Tell me one little thing, who was this dame that Granworth was runnin' around with?"

"I don't know," she says, lookin' out across the desert, "but I believe that whoever she was, she was the wife of the man who wrote the anonymous letter."

"How'd you get that idea?" I ask her.

"For this reason," she says. "The letter was handwritten, and it was in a manly hand. In one place before the writer used the words 'this woman' I could see that something had been scratched out. I looked at it through a magnifying glass and under the attempt at erasure I could see the words 'my wife'. I guessed he had been going to refer to his wife and thought better of it."

"Have you got the letter? I ask her.

"I'm afraid I lost it," she says.

I get up.

"OK, lady," I tell her. "I'm believin' your story because I always trust a good-lookin' dame - once! If it's true, well, that's OK, an' if it's not I bet I'll catch you out somewhere. Stick around an' don't worry your head too much. Maybe something will break in a minute, but right now this bezusus looks to me like a mah-jong game played backwards."

She looks at me and sorta smiles. Her eyes are shinin' an' there is a sorta insolence about her that goes well with me. This Henrietta has got guts all right I guess.

"You've got it in for me, haven't you," she says. "Right from the beginning I've felt that everything you say and do is to one end, the pinning of this counterfeit business on me. Maybe you'll accuse me of killing Granworth next. You're tough all right, Mr Caution."

"You're dead right, honeybunch," I tell her. "What's the good of a guy if he ain't tough. Me - I think you're swell. I reckon that I ain't seen many dames around like you. You got class-if you know what I mean, an' I like the way you move around an' talk. In a way I'm sorry that you're so stuck on Maloney because maybe if things was different I'd like to run around with a dame like you. But you see they ain't different, an' I've got a job to do an' I'm goin' to do it even if you don't like it. So long, an' I'll be seem' you."

I scram down the steps of the porch an' go around the back an' get my car. I am so tired that I am almost seem' double an' I reckon that I am goin' to call it a day an' get back to the hotel an' have a piece of bed.

I have got about five miles away from the Hacienda an' am passing a place where the road narrows down an' there is a joshua tree standin' way back off the road in front of some scrub on a hillock when somebody has a shot at me. The bullet hits the steerin' wheel, glances off an' goes through the wind shield.

I pull a fast one. I tread on the brakes, slew the wheel round an' drive the car into a cactus bush just as if I was shot. Then I slump over the wheel an' lie doggo with one eye open.

I wait there for a coupla minutes an' nothin' happens. Then, over the back of the patch of scrub, in the moonlight, I see somebody movin'. As he gets out into the open I go after him. He starts to scram out of it an' this guy can certainly run. I let him go because I have got another idea. I go back to the car, turn her round an' step on it. I drive straight back to the Hacienda an' ask if Fernandez is there. They say be ain't, that maybe he won't be around tonight. I find Periera an' ask him where Fernandez is livin' an' he tells me that he has gotta cabin just off the Indio road. I find out where this place is an' I start to drive there pronto.

As I go speedin' down this road towards Indio I begin to think that this desert is a belluva place for things to happen. Some of these guys who are always talkin' about the wide open spaces might not think that deserts are so good if they got around on 'em a bit more.

Presently I see this dump. It is a white cabin fifty yards off the road, railed in with some white fencin' an' white stones. I pull up the car by the side of the road an' I ease over to the cabin. There is a window by the side of the door an' I look through an' there, sittin' at a table smokin' a cigarette an' drinkin' rye all by himself, is Fernandez.

I knock on the door an' after a minute he comes over an' opens it

"What do you want, copper?" he says.

"Get inside an' shut your trap, Fernandez," I tell him. "Because to me you are just one big bad smell, an' if I have any trouble outa you I am goin' to hurt you plenty."

He goes inside an' I go after him. He hands over a chair an' I sit down an' take a look around.

The cabin is a nice sorta place. It is furnished comfortable an' there is plenty of liquor kickin' around. I light a cigarette an' look at Fernandez.

He is standin' in front of the hearth lookin' at me. He is a lousy-lookin' guy an' I think that I should like to give him a good smack in the puss with a steam shovel, just so that he wouldn't think he was so good.

I have got an idea as to how I am goin' to play this so-an'so along. I reckon that there was never a crook who wouldn't do a trade if he thought that he could do himself some good that way.

"Listen, Fernandez," I tell him. "It looks to me I ain't popular around here, some guy has tried to iron me out tonight while I am goin' back to Palm Springs, but he wasn't quite good enough an' he just dented the steerin' wheel an' bust the wind screen. I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that, Fernandez?"

He looks at me like he was surprised.

"You don't think I'm such a mug, do you?" he says. "What good do I do by tryin' to bump you? You tell me that."

"I wouldn't know," I tell him, "but there's somebody around here has got one in for me - but maybe it's Periera."

"I don't get that," he says. "Why should he wanta bump you?"

"I wouldn't know that either," I say. "However, I ain't partial to guys shootin' at me, an' I just wanta know which side you're on, so you listen to me."

I help myself to some of his rye.

"Thanks for the drink," I say. "Now here's how it goes. It looks to me like I am goin' to make a pinch down here pretty soon, an' I'll give you two guesses as to who it is. Well, it's little Henrietta. That dame looks screwy to me an' I believe she knows a dum sight more about Granwortli Aymes' death than a lotta people think. OK. Well, the thing is this. There is some dame who is playin' around with Granworth Aymes an' this dame's husband is supposed to write some letter to Henrietta tellin' her that he is bein' a naughty boy an' that she'd better do something about it, Well, either that story is true or it ain't true.

"Now I hear that you are stuck on marryin' Henrietta. Whether that is a true bill or not I don't know, but I know one thing an' that is this that you were Aymes' chauffeur, an' you usta drive him around, an' if he was stuck on some woman you would know who it was."

"I was for Henrietta," he says, "an' I offered to marry her when she was broke an' hadn't any friends, but maybe after that phoney bond business I sorta changed my mind. I don't say she ain't a very attractive number," he goes on, "but I don't know that a guy is justified in marryin' a dame who is gettin' herself all mixed up in counterfeitin' stuff an' who may have been takin' time out together, don't it?

I do some quick thinkin' because this is a very interestin' situation. You will remember that Burdell told me that he was all for Henrietta until he suspected her of the counterfeitin' job, an' here is another guy who was supposed to be hot for marryin' her pullin' the same story. It looks like these guys have been takin' time out together, don't it.

"Looky, Fernandez," I say. "Here's the way it is. It's goin' to be pretty easy for me to find out whether Aymes was runnin around with a woman if I get the boys in New York on the job, but I reckon you can save me the trouble. I'm goin' to make a bargain with you, although I don't often do a deal with a lousy two timer like you, an' the bargain is this. I want the truth outa you about this woman that Aymes was supposed to be gettin' around with, an' I wanta know what was goin' on. If you llke to cash in well an' good. If not, I'm pinchin' you here an' now on a charge of attemptin' to murder a Federal Agent because I think that you were the guy who had a shot at me way back on the Palm Springs road."

His eyes start poppin'.

"Say listen, Caution," he says. "You can't say that. I can produce about six guys who will say I was around with them all the evenin'. Besides, anything you wanta know I'll be glad to tell you."

"OK," I say, "listen to this."

I then tell the story that Henrietta has told me. He stands there smokin' an' listenin'. When I have finished he starts in.

"I reckon that she is stringin' you along," he says with a grin. "It stands to reason that since you know she was in New York on that night she has gotta have some sorta story to give a reason for bein' there. If she ain't got a reason then it looks as if she just came down from Connecticut for some other reason that she don't want you to know-such as bumpin' her husband off. I reckon that she made up that story about the other dame.

"I used to get around with Aymes a lot," he goes on. "I usta drive him around the place an' he had dames all over the place, the usual sorta dames, but there wasn't anything special about that. There wasn't any special one that he went for. Nope, there was just a whole lot of 'em an' I could make you outa list of 'em if you want it. But I reckon you'd be wastin' your time."

"OK," I say. "Now you listen to me, Fernandez. An hour ago some palooka has a shot at me an' tries to iron me out. Now that mighta been you or it mighta been Henrietta or it mighta been Maloney or it mighta been Periera. Well, as the professors say, for the sake of this argument, I am goin' to say it was you."

I slip my hand under my coat an' I pull my Luger outa the shoulder holster an' cover him with it.

"Look, sweetheart," I say. "I have gotta reputation for bein' plenty tough, an' I am goin' to be tough with you. If I have any nonsense outa you I'm goin' to drill you. Then I'm goin' to say that it was you who tried to bump me earlier tonight; that I followed you out here to pinch you an' that you tried another shot an' then I shot an' killed you, an' how do you like that?"

He stands there an' I can see that he is beginnin' to sweat. "An' if you don't want me to do that," I tell him, "you're goin' to tell me the name of that dame who was kickin' around with Aymes. There was one, an' I wanta know who it was. If you ain't made up your mind who she was an' where she is livin' right now, by the time that I can count up to ten, I am goin' to give it to you in the guts. See?"

He don't say anything. I start countin'.

When I have got to nine he puts his hand up. His forehead is covered with sweat an' I can see his hands tremblin'.

"OK," he says. "You win. The dame's name is Paulette Benito, an' she's livin' at a dump called Sonoyta just off the Arizona line, in Mexico."

"Swell," I tell him, putting the gun away.

I get up.

"I'll be seem' you, Fernandez," I crack, "an' while I am away don't you do anything your mother wouldn't like to know about."