Dames Don’t Care Read Free

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'