Ladies They Talk About

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Police, police!

Hurry, please! There's a man running wild here

with a butcher knife stabbing people.

Wert Side. La Paloma Street.

Hurry, please!

Okay.

Police Department calling car 47.

Car four seven.

Go to the corner of 8th and Adams.

Auto accident.

That is all.

Police Department, calling all cars.

Calling all cars.

Go to the West Side, vicinity of La Paloma Street.

Madman running amuck with a butcher knife.

Calling all cars. Go to the West Side.

Man running amuck with butcher knife.

Get going, Mike.

You gotta wait about a half hour, lady.

Oh, I can't wait. I have to catch a train

at 10 o'clock.

Are you gonna put money in or take it out?

I'm going to put some in to cover checks

I wrote for train tickets.

Oh, I don't know...

Oh, please.

All right. Come on.

Thank you. Now you hold Fifi for me.

And you must show me how to make out

one of those deposit slips.

Swell! She made it.

My maid usually does all my banking for me.

Get one of those slips, lady.

These?

Yes. No, no, lady, that's for the date.

You fill in the amount there.

Oh...

Don't move! Stick 'em up!

Come on, sister, get out of there. Don't move!

Don't move!

Keep your hands up!

Come on, stick 'em up, officer.

You too, sister.

Okay, Dutch. Get going!

Never mind the chicken feed.

Give me that gatt!

Now the first one that sets off an alarm

I'll blow your insides all over the wall.

Come on, Dutch, we're blowin'.

Everybody stand still.

Don't move, see? If you want to live to talk.

Call the cops!

Don't stand there. Call the police!

Hello! Give me the Police Station!

Yes, hurry it up!

Oh, my goodness, I feel so dizzy.

What happened?

Police! Police!

Somebody get the police!

Ohm it's almost 10 o'clock.

I have to hurry or I'll miss my train!

I'm sorry, madam, but you can't go

till the police come.

But surely you have enough witnesses.

You'll ruin my trip.

It can't be helped! Them's the rules.

Say, let me talk!

Where were you when they pushed in?

Well, I was helping a lady with a deposit slip.

I was holding her dog.

I had only let her in a few minutes before.

Let's have a look at this lady. Where is she?

There she is, there.

Why, that's Mrs. Andrews. One of our depositors.

Oh, I see...

What do you know about this holdup,

Mrs. Andrews?

Nothing, except I'm taking my money out of here.

Apparently it isn't safe.

What did you say your name was?

The manager told you, didn't he?

Do you usually do your banking before banking hours?

My maid usually does my banking.

I see. Why didn't she do it this morning?

Because I let her go. I was going away on a brief trip.

I came here to deposit money to cover checks

I had written for my train tickets.

And where are the tickets?

Here. And here's the money.

If you're through asking stupid questions, I'll go.

Not yet.

You're going to take another train, lady.

Didn't I know you before you became Mrs. Andrews?

I don't think so.

And before you turned platinum?

Not so hot as a blonde, Nan, not so hot.

Come on, I want to have a little talk with you.

For a dumb dick you have a memory like an elephant.

I have been much criticized of late

by certain politicians and their newspaper backers

as being a meddler

in the affairs of this city.

I have never meddled in the private affairs

of any man or woman.

But I have meddled and intend to continue meddling

in politics.

Especially when crooked politicians are stealing the

taxpayers' money by being lenient with criminals.

Or are escaping punishment through incompetent prosecutors

and corrupt judges.

That there is need of my meddling is shown

by the wave of crime that is raging unchecked in this city.

This very morning, three armed bandits

entirely scorned by the police

walked calmly into a bank and helped themselves

to money that you, and you, and you...

have toiled and sweated to save.

What has the district attorney done about this holdup?

Or the seven other bank robberies we've had

in the last four weeks?

Nothing!

He's been too busy telling the newspapers

what a great man he is.

I had a hunch Slade was gonna toss a few harpoons

into me tonight.

What do you care what he says about you?

There are a lot of people in this town

who listen to that bird.

They have radios and they have votes.

In eight consecutive bank robberies

we've had only one arrest.

A girl.

The district attorney is a fine fellow personally.

But as a prosecuting official he needs me and my meddling

much more than I need his personal friendship.

So I am going to continue to meddle, and meddle,

and meddle,

until something definite is done.

If David Slade was District Attorney, he'd do something.

I wish he was my son.

I wish he was my boyfriend.

Come in, Miss Taylor.

Shall I sit down or do they confess easier

standing up?

Miss Taylor, this is David Slade,

our perennial and persistent reformer.

He's a bit of a nuisance in this town but he's regular.

He wants to have a little talk with you.

I saw your picture in the paper this morning.

It interested me.

Don't I know you from somewhere?

Up in Benicia, wasn't it?

I must have a swell pan.

Everybody's remembering me these days.

But your name wasn't Taylor then.

It isn't now. I'm Mrs. Andrews.

It was Ellis. Nan Ellis.

I remember you distinctly now.

Your father was a deacon in the church up there.

And you were little Davy Slade.

And your father was the town drunkard.

Well, Brother Slade, things change, don't they?

The deacon's daughter in jail...

and the bad boy of Benicia hymn-shouting reforms.

She got your number, Dave.

No, Nan, I'm no hymn shouter.

Just a right guy trying to persuade others to go right.

But what's happened to you? I felt pretty bad

when I heard you'd been sent to Reform School.

You were such a sweet kid.

Yeah? Well, too much deaconing took all the sweetness out of me.

It often does. How did you ever get in this jam?

Ask him.

So, you've got a reform school jilt in your pedigree, eh?

Didn't they teach you your lesson up there?

They did, but it didn't take.

I'm not any too happy, Nan, seeing you here like this.

I'm not exactly crazy about it myself.

But they've gotta pin it on somebody.

And I haven't very many friends.

I'll take care of that, if you're actually innocent.

Why, I've been straight ever since I got out

of Reform School.

Won't you believe me, David?

I'd like to. If only for old times.

They won't let me go straight.

That's why I wore that platinum wig and changed my name

so they wouldn't know me.

Oh, I can't go straight if they won't give me a chance.

I don't know whether Nan Taylor is guilty or innocent.

And neither do the police.

But I do know that she has her rights.

And the authorities are wrong to keep her in jail

without positive evidence one way or another.

Pretty tough being D.A., isn't it?

Yes, but not so tough that I want to lose the job

in next month's election.

Slade isn't doing you any good.

And that radio station of his is plenty powerful.

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