Ladies They Talk About

Police, police!

Hurry, please!

A man's running wild here with a butcher knife stabbing people.

West 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.'

'Mad man running amuck with a butcher knife.'

'Calling all cars. Go to the West Side.'

'Man running amuck with butcher knife.'

Get going, Mike.

Gotta wait about a half hour.

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?

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!

Alright everybody! Stick 'em up!

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

- Ah! - '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.

- Call up somebody. - Oh, my goodness.

I feel so dizzy. What happened?

- Police! Police! - Somebody get the police!

It's almost 10:00. I must 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?

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.

Why didn't she do it this morning?

Because I let her go. I was going on a 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.

You're through asking stupid questions, I'll go.

Not yet.

You're going to take another train, lady.

Didn't I used to 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 anybody.

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'd 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 him.

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

lots 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 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? - 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.

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.

Yes, I know.

However I think he and I will be able to get together.

I want to be re-elected..

...and he wants a favor.

Nan Taylor.

'District Attorney wants to speak to you.'

Well, now, isn't that just too sweet?

District Attorney? The Mayor'll be dropping in to see her next.

The Governor's flying down to take her out to tea.

President Hoover called her up last night.

Yes, but she had a date with Mr. Roosevelt.

'Doesn't that dame make you sick?'

'What she needs is a good sock at the jaw.'

Why the bag, Taylor?

I've got a strange hunch I'm on my way.

- So long, Spanish. - Adios.

Goodbye, Twisty, see you in Paris.

This is Miss Taylor.

Please go right in, Ms. Taylor, the District Attorney's waiting.

Oh, that's alright, Mr. Simpson, don't bother getting up.

Oh, pardon me, Ms. Taylor. Won't you be seated?

Thank you.

'I'm just okaying the architect's plan'

for enlarging the woman's ward in the County Jail.