Dames Don’t Care

by Peter Cheyney

  I'll be seem' you."

  I scram. Mexico is callin'.

  CHAPTER 9

  HEY PAULETTE!

  IT Is seven o'clock an' a fine evenin' an' I am drivin' along the state road that runs along the Mexican border between Mexicali an' Sonoyta.

  There is one swell moon. There is a lotta people who don't like this desert scenery, but me, I go for it. I'm for the wide open spaces where men are men an' 'women are durn glad of it.

  An' I am plenty curious about this Paulette. Speakin' confidentially, I am keen to have a look at this dame. Why? Because I like lookin' at dames and, speaking confidentially some more, I am hot to get a look at the dame that Aymes turned down Henrietta for, because believe it or not this baby has gotta have what it takes in a big way to get a start of Henrietta. Get me?

  Besides which I am not certain just where Henrietta is breakin'. I told you how I tore up the record card an' fingerprint cards an' pictures of her I had taken at Palm Springs, an' maybe you are wonderin' why I done this. If you got intelligence you will realise that the show I put up down at the Palm Springs police station was a big act an' if you stick around you'll see why I played it that way.

  I start singin' Cactus Lizzie again because I have always found that I drive quicker when I am singin' this jingle.

  I go on eatin' up the miles an' wonderin'. Sonoyta is about ten miles over the Mexican side of the Arizona-Mexico State line, an' it is about a hundred an' fifty miles from Mexicali, but what the roads are goin' to be like when I pull off the road I am on is another business.

  It is eight o'clock when I get to the intersection. The left road runs inta Arizona an' the right inta Mexico. I pull the car round an' find myself on some helluva lousy road that shakes up my liver like a broncho. About five miles down this road I see a Mex sittin' on the side of the road, smokin' a cigarette an' thinkin' - which is what Mexicans is always doin' when they ain't tryin' to come the neat stuff with a dame or makin' a swell try to stick the other guy who is one jump ahead of 'em on the same game.

  I pull up an' ask the dago if he knows a jane called Sefiora Paulette Benito who is livin' in some hacienda around here, an' after gettin' over a lotta surprise at finding an Arnericano who speaks his own lingo he says yes, an' he tells me how to make this place which is about six miles from where we are.

  After stickin' me for two cigarettes an' thereby provin' that there ain't even one Mex who will even give you some information for nothin' I ease off an' ten minutes later I see the hacienda.

  It is a swell little dump. It is all white an' stuck on the side of a little hill with a lotta tropical stuff an' cactus around behind it. There are some white palisades around the front an' an old-fashioned rancho gate, an' I drive in, get outa the car an' walk up to the door. There is a big knocker an' I bang plenty.

  Pretty soon the door opens an' a Mexican jane stands lookin' at me. She is as ugly as a gorilla, an' by the looks of her pan I reckon that there is durn little Spanish about her. Maybe she had a Spanish mother about ten generations back who didn't know how to say no to Great Leapin' Moose or whatever the local chief's moniker was, an' since then her ancestors ain't met up with anybody except Indians.

  I say goodnight very polite an' I ask her if I can talk with the Senora Benito an' she gets very excited an' says that the Seflora ain't around an' that she is at some dump called the Casa de Oro, after which we go inta a huddle an' eventually I find out that this Casa de Oro is the nearest thing they got to a roadhouse around these parts. She tells me that I can know this dump by the lamp that is hangin' outside an' I say thanks a lot an' scram.

  I go on down the road an' after a bit I see this Casa de Oro. It is an ordinary adobe house standin' off the road with an old Spanish lamp hangin' outside. I drive the car off the road an' park it around by the side of the house an' I go in.

  There ain't anybody around, but I can hear the sound of some guy playin' a guitar. I go along a stone passage, an' at the other end I stop an' look with my eyes bustin' because the place is like a fairyland.

  All around the patio at the back there is an adobe wall, an' fixed on this wall is a lotta trellis work. There is flowers an' things stuck all over this trellis an' swung across the top from side to side is a lotta candle lamps.

  All around the patio are tables with people sittin' around. The guy playin' the guitar is standin' over in the far corner lookin' like he was nuts-he is so carried away with the song he is singin'. In the middle of the patio there is a sorta smooth stone floor about twenty feet square.

  I sit down at a table. Mosta the guys turn around an' take a look at me like I come out of some museum, an' after a minute some Mexican waiter comas an' does a big bowin' act an' asks what is my pleasure.

  I tell him that my pleasure is usually dames, but that at the moment I'll take a glass of tequila. Then I ask him if he knows the Senora Benito.

  He nods an' makes a gesture towards the dancin' space, an' as I look over a couple get up an' start dancin'. I look over an' I see that the dame is American an' I know that this is Paulette.

  Boy is she good or is she? Get this: I seen plenty janes an' I'm tellin' you that this Paulette has got the makin's. She is one swell bundle of woman an' I get thinkin' that maybe if I wasn't so busy on this case I would like to get around an' try out my personality on this baby.

  She is a honey. She is as cute as Henrietta, but in a different way. She is as different like a pineapple is to a plum.

  She has got curves that woulda made King Solomon sign off the roster an' turn into a one-woman man, an' she has got the sorta style that woulda made that Roman baby they called Juno look lika case of gallopin' consumption. If Henry the Eighth coulda taken one peek at her ankles he woulda figured to have got himself born about six centuries later just so's he coulda given Anne Boleyn a quick bum's rush an' made this Paulette top sergeant in the royal runaround squad.

  An' can she dance? I have seen dames dance plenty an' I reckon that she can swing a mean hip. I tell you she is as supple as a snake, an' as she turns around in the tango she is dancin' I catch a look at her white teeth flashin' an' see her red mouth smilin' up at the guy she is dancin' with, an' I start thinkin' that dames are very interestin' things an' that I would like to know very much just what a swell dame like this was doin' kickin' around with a cheap mug like Granworth Aymes.

  An' the guy is good too. He is a dago an' he is wearin' tight black Mexican pants with a silk shirt an' a bolero jacket. He has got a silver cord in his shirt an' all the trimmin's. He is a tall, wiry lookin' cuss, with a lotta black hair an' a little black moustache. He dances swell an' I reckon that if this guy went to Hollywood he would probably be such a success that maybe he could get married to some film star for a coupla months before she got sick of anteing up all the time to keep this palooka in hair-oil.

  He also looks dangerous to me. He has got that sorta wicked look like a rattlesnake, only I reckon that this baby wouldn't even rattle before he started spittin'.

  After a bit the music stops an' they sit down again. I sit at my table sippin' the tequila an' watchin' them. You gotta understand that it is not quite so easy for me this side of the border an' as I don't wanta get mixed up with the local cops I have gotta play my hand easy.

  Lookin' at Paulette I try an' make up my mind as to how I am goin' to play this thing, but lookin' at her don't help me any. You never know how a dame is goin' to take anything. You never know with females; whatever you do they ain't satisfied.

  I remember hearin' about some high-hat butler in some swell dame's house in England. One day this butler guy busts into the bathroom just when the dame is takin' a shower. Now this butler has gotta lotta tact so he just says 'Excuse me, Sir,' an' scrams, an' thinks that he has got himself outa that one very good.

  But he didn't feel so good next day when she made him go an' get his sight tested.

  So I just sit there an' just as I am beginnin' to get tired of stickin' around, Paulette looks my way an' sorta gives me t
he once over, after which she gives me a sorta little smile.

  I reckon that this is only because she reckons that I am an American in Mexico, but I act quick. I get up an' I ease over to her table an' I say how are you an' haven't we met some place before.

  She say's she don't remember me but maybe she has met me somewhere.

  "Anyhow, lady, I've been waitin' years to meet you," I tell her. "My name's Caution - Lemmy Caution - an' I wanta have a little talk with you sometime."

  "Sit down, Mr Caution," she says, "an' have a drink. This is Senor Luis Daredo."

  I sit down. The Mexican gives me a sorta look that might mean anything. I reckon he ain't so pleased with my bustin' in like this. He just nods.

  I send the waiter to get the tequila that I have left on my table. While I am waitin' for it I see her watchin' me sorta interested, with a little smile playin' around her red mouth.

  "And what was it you wanted to know, Mr Caution?" she says. "I'll be glad to help you."

  I look at her quick an' see a big laugh in her eyes.

  I give myself a cigarette.

  "It's this way, Mrs Benito," I tell her. "I'm makin' a few inquiries about a guy called Granworth Aymes who bumped himself off last January in New York. I thought that maybe you could help me. But I reckon that we can't talk here very well. Maybe I can take you back home some time an' have a little talk there."

  She stops smilin'.

  "Perhaps that wouldn't be convenient," she says. "You know, Mr Caution, this is Mexico - not the United States, and possibly I don't want to talk about Granworth Aymes. Perhaps you're wasting your time here."

  It is obvious to me that this dame is bein' fresh.

  "I get you, lady," I tell her. "You mean that it ain't possible to hold anybody here as a material witness without a lotta funny business an' office stuff at Mexicali. Well, that's as may be, but if I was you I reckon I'd do what I want an' not make too much trouble over it, an' what will you have to drink?"

  I order some drinks for all of us. The Mexican is watchin' me like I was a bad nightmare.

  She' starts smilin' again.

  "I like your direct methods, Mr Caution," she says, "but I still don't see why I should make appointments to talk over somebody's death with people I don't know."

  "OK, lady," I say. "In that case I'll go back over the border an' get extradition for you as a material witness. Then I'll take you back an' hold you. It'll take me two days to get a Federal plea for your extradition through with the Mexican authorities, an' if they ain't quick enough for me maybe I'll try something else. I am a Federal Agent an' I got a badge in my pocket that ain't very much use on this side of the border but maybe it's enough for me to get hold of the local Rurales officer an' tell him you've got a pinched passport. Even if it ain't true it's goin' to make things plenty tough for you. Get me?"

  She is just goin' to say something when Daredo puts his hand on her arm an' stops her.

  "Senor," he says, "thees ces Mekkiko. I don' like that you talk to thees sefiora like you talk. I don' like you at all. You get out of thees place queek or else I order them to t'row you out. Sabe?"

  "Nuts, gringo," I tell this guy. "I don't like you neither, an' I reckon that you'll have to get all your friends around you before you can throw me outa any place, an' just so's you'll know that I don't mean maybe, get a load of this."

  I smack him across the puss an' he goes off the chair pronto. He gets up an' comes around the table an' I busL him another one. Some guy at the next table gets up an' starts emittin' a lotta Mexican noise an' easin' over to me so it looks as if I've gotta start something.

  I stick my hand under my coat an' pull the gun. Around me I can see a lotta ugly mugs an' I reckon that I gotta fix this job.

  "Listen, lady," I say to Paulette. "Get a load of this. If anybody starts anything around here, I'm goin' to give 'em the heat first an' talk afterwards. I'm takin' you back to your own place for a little talk an' if you don't like that I'll take you right over the border now an' smack you in the first sheriff's lock-up in Arizona I come to. You make up your mind what you're havin' -your own sittin' room or the hoosegow-I don't give a continental."

  She gets up.

  "It's all right, Luis," she says. "You don't have to get excited. Maybe I'll go along with Mr Caution here an' straighten this out."

  "That's talkin'," I tell her, "an' I don't even mind if Luis does get excited. Any time he wants somebody to kick them tight pants off him I'll elect myself for the job. Maybe he's a big guy around here, but to me he's just a big sissy with whiskers. Come on, lady."

  I put some money on the table an' we go out. I have still got the Luger in my hand an' over my shoulder I can see this Luis lookin' at me like a tiger with a gumboil. This guy is certainly not so pleased.

  We get in the car an' we go off. Outa the corner of my eye I can see Paulette lookin' at me. She is wearin' same swell perfume an' I can just sniff it. I get to comparin' it with Henrietta's 'Carnation' an' I ain't quite certain which I like the best.

  "That's a swell perfume you got, Paulette," I tell her. "I could go for that stuff. I always was keen on nice smells."

  I can hear her gurglin' in the dark. I told you this Paulette is a helluva piece.

  "You've got a sweet nerve," she says. "You burst into the Casa, smack Luis down, take me away just when I'm beginning to enjoy myself, and then tell me that you like my perfume. I reckon that you must go well with your lady friends, but you ought to remember this is Mexico."

  "You don't say, Paulette," I tell her. "So what? I been in Mexico before, and it ain't ever frightened me any. Say, did you ever hear of a Mexican called Caldesa Martinguez - their ace stick-up guy?"

  She nods.

  "Well," I go on. '~This guy got pretty big an' he reckoned to get over the border one day an' pull a fast one on the Arizona mail cart. He pulled a fast one - three times. First he stuck up the mail car; second time he stuck it up an' cut the driver's ear off, an' the third time he pumped so much lead into the driver an' the guard that they both looked like ammunition factories when we found 'em."

  I get out my cigarette pack with my left hand an' give it to her. She lights a couple - one for herself an' one for me.

  "OK," I say. "Well, the US authorities got plenty mad at this guy. So they send some wise guy down to the border an' this guy pulls a coupla fake stick - ups, an' eventually Martinguez gets to hear of him an' cuts him in on the business. The wise guy plays along with Martinguez, an' one night gets him good an' high on doctored liquor. Then he ties him on a horse an' runs him over the border to a nice lock-up an' a six foot drop - they still hang 'em in Arizona.

  "The joke was that when Martinguez arrives at the lock-up he is nearly nuts because the wise guy has filled the seat of his pants with cactus spines an' stingin' nettles, an' every time the horse bumps Martinguez lets go a howl like he was demented. If you've ever sat on a cactus spine you'll get what I mean. I tell you this bad man was hard-hearted, but when they come to execute him his seat was so tender that hangin' was just a sweet relief."

  "Very nice," she says, "an' who was the wise guy?"

  "A palooka name of Caution," I tell her sorta modest. "Lemmy Caution was the name."

  We go on drivin'. It is a lousy road an' I haveta concentrate. She don't say nothin'. Suddenly she puts her hand on my knee.

  "You're a helluva man, Lemmy," she says. "After these dagoes..." She sorta sighs. "It's fine meeting you."

  She looks at me sideways.

  I keep my eye on the road. It looks to me like this dame is fallin' for me too fast even if she is a quick worker, but I play along.

  "Gee, that's swell" I tell her. "I reckon you're the sorta dame I've been lookin' for. A swell dame an' a swell night," I say, noddin' my head at the moon, "an' what more could any guy ask?"

  She don't say nothin'. She just lets go another big sigh. There is silence for a bit an' then she says:

  "Listen, Lemmy, what's all this stuff about Granworth Aymes?"


  "Oh, it ain't nothin' much," I tell her. "I ain't really interested in Aymes. I'm interested in a little counterfeit job that's sorta got mixed up with it. I'll tell you about it in a minute."

  She don't answer an' I reckon she's doin' some heavy thinkin'. Pretty soon we pull up at the hacienda. The Mexican jane is waitin' in the doorway an' she takes my hat. The place is pretty swell inside - the furniture is good an' it looks like Paulette knows how to fix herself.

  We go into some room on the right of the hallway. Paulette points to a big rocker chair that is standin' out on a veranda that runs along one side of the house. I go an' sit down an' give myself a cigarette an' she goes over an' starts mixin' highballs. I can hear the ice clinkin'.

  In a minute she comes over with a drink in each hand. She gives me mine an' sits herself down in a chair opposite me.

  "Well, Lemmy," she says, "shoot."

  I give her a cigarette an' light it. As I am holdin' the match she looks up into my eyes an' I'm tellin' you that I get an idea that she knows more about wireless telegraphy than Marconi. It was one helluva look. I go an' sit down again.

  "Here's the way it is," I tell her. "This guy Granworth Aymes bumps himself off last January. Some time before he does this he has given his wife two hundred grand worth of Dollar Bonds. OK. After his suicide she gets up to some dump near Palm Springs an' tries to cash one of these bonds at the bank. Well, it is phoney. I get stuck on this job an' I've been musclm' around plenty, but I ain't doin' myself any good. I know just as much about this thing as when I started on it.

  While I am talkin' she is lookin' out across the Mesa. I can just see the outline of her face in the dark, but it don't tell me anythin'.

  "Now I've got a hunch," I go on still watchin' her. "I've got a hunch that this dame Henrietta knows plenty about this counterfeitin' business, but I can't find any way to make this baby talk. While I am jumpin' around on this job Langdon Burdell who was secretary to Aymes give me an idea that Granworth didn't commit suicide at all; that he was bumped, and that Henrietta bumped him, an' between you an' me, honey, that's just the way it looks to me.