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
