Dames Don’t Care Read Online Free
ironed Sagers out will take him out some place an' bury him some time before dawn. As a bump off it was a nice piece of work, because if Sagers had told 'em what I said he was to tell 'em, that he was blowin' outa here an' goin' back to Arispe to get the dough that this guy was supposed to have left him, then that is goin' to account for his disappearance, an' who the hell is goin' to worry about one dancin' partner more or less. Anyway it looks like I had better have a few words with the Chief of Police around here an' tell him about the Sagers bump off, an' get him to lay off things while I am flirtin' around with this proposition.
When I get into the main street I pull the car up under a light an' I take the letters outa my pocket an' I read 'em. There are three letters altogether. The handwritin' is good. Nice regular sorta letters with nice even spaces between the words, the sorta handwritin' that is swell to look at.
The first letter is addressed from a hotel in Hartford, Connecticut, and it is dated the 3rd January. It says:
DEAR GRANWORTH,
I know that you always have thought that I am a fool, and I haven't minded this particularly, but I do insist that you credit me with a certain amount of intelligence.
Your evasions and excuses during the last two months confirm my suspicions. Why don't you make up your mind about what you are going to do, or are you so selfish that you are prepared to take what advantage you can from the fact that the comrnunity regards you as a happily married man who has no need to sow any further wild oats, whilst at the same time you continue to carry on an affair with this woman.
When you denied this previously I believed you, but having regard to the events of the last day or two, and a letter which I have received from a person who is in a position to know, it is quite obvious that you have been making a fool of me and other people for some time past.
I'm fairly good-tempered, but quite candidly I've had enough of this business. Make up your mind what you're going to do, and be prepared to let me know very shortly. I shall arrange to come back and hear your decision.
HENRIETTA.
The second letter is from the same hotel, five days afterwards, the 8th January, an' it says:
GRANWORTH,
I have received your letter and I don't believe a word of it You're a very bad liar. I am going to have satisfaction one way or the other. Unless I do get satisfaction I am going to be rather unpleasant, so make up your mind.
HENRIETTA.
an' the third is just a few lines dated four days after, on the 12th January. It says at the top New York and goes on:
GRANWORTH,
I shall arrange to see you this evening. So I've GOT to be tough!
HENRIETTA.
I put the letters back in my pocket an' I light another cigarette. It just shows you, don't it, that things are not always what they're cracked up to be. Up to now everybody believed that when Granworth Aymes died, Henrietta Aymes was outa town in Hartford, an' here is a note which definitely shows that she was fixin' to see him on the day he died, an' that she was feelin' tough.
It's pretty easy to see why Henrietta was so keen on gettin' those letters back, but what a mug she was to keep 'em. Why didn't she burn 'em? Anyhow it looks to me that if I have any trouble with her, maybe I can use these letters as a means of makin' her talk, because I am beginning to think that this Henrietta is not such a nice dame as she trjes to make out. In fact I am beginnin' to develop a whole lot of ideas about her.
I get out my note book an' I look up the address of the chief of Police here. He is a guy named Metts, an' he has got a house just off the street I am parked in. I reckon he is not goin' to be so pleased about being dug up at this time of the night, but then I have always discovered that policemen ain't pleased with anythin' at any time.
I drive around an' park the car on the opposite side of the street. Then I go over an'
When I get into the main street I pull the car up under a light an' I take the letters outa my pocket an' I read 'em. There are three letters altogether. The handwritin' is good. Nice regular sorta letters with nice even spaces between the words, the sorta handwritin' that is swell to look at.
The first letter is addressed from a hotel in Hartford, Connecticut, and it is dated the 3rd January. It says:
DEAR GRANWORTH,
I know that you always have thought that I am a fool, and I haven't minded this particularly, but I do insist that you credit me with a certain amount of intelligence.
Your evasions and excuses during the last two months confirm my suspicions. Why don't you make up your mind about what you are going to do, or are you so selfish that you are prepared to take what advantage you can from the fact that the comrnunity regards you as a happily married man who has no need to sow any further wild oats, whilst at the same time you continue to carry on an affair with this woman.
When you denied this previously I believed you, but having regard to the events of the last day or two, and a letter which I have received from a person who is in a position to know, it is quite obvious that you have been making a fool of me and other people for some time past.
I'm fairly good-tempered, but quite candidly I've had enough of this business. Make up your mind what you're going to do, and be prepared to let me know very shortly. I shall arrange to come back and hear your decision.
HENRIETTA.
The second letter is from the same hotel, five days afterwards, the 8th January, an' it says:
GRANWORTH,
I have received your letter and I don't believe a word of it You're a very bad liar. I am going to have satisfaction one way or the other. Unless I do get satisfaction I am going to be rather unpleasant, so make up your mind.
HENRIETTA.
an' the third is just a few lines dated four days after, on the 12th January. It says at the top New York and goes on:
GRANWORTH,
I shall arrange to see you this evening. So I've GOT to be tough!
HENRIETTA.
I put the letters back in my pocket an' I light another cigarette. It just shows you, don't it, that things are not always what they're cracked up to be. Up to now everybody believed that when Granworth Aymes died, Henrietta Aymes was outa town in Hartford, an' here is a note which definitely shows that she was fixin' to see him on the day he died, an' that she was feelin' tough.
It's pretty easy to see why Henrietta was so keen on gettin' those letters back, but what a mug she was to keep 'em. Why didn't she burn 'em? Anyhow it looks to me that if I have any trouble with her, maybe I can use these letters as a means of makin' her talk, because I am beginning to think that this Henrietta is not such a nice dame as she trjes to make out. In fact I am beginnin' to develop a whole lot of ideas about her.
I get out my note book an' I look up the address of the chief of Police here. He is a guy named Metts, an' he has got a house just off the street I am parked in. I reckon he is not goin' to be so pleased about being dug up at this time of the night, but then I have always discovered that policemen ain't pleased with anythin' at any time.
I drive around an' park the car on the opposite side of the street. Then I go over an'
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