His Kind of Woman

Synopsis: Nick Ferraro, deported crime boss, needs to re-enter the USA. His plan involves "honest" gambler Dan Milner, who's subjected to a series of "misfortunes," then bribed to take a trip to Mexico. En route, Dan meets chanteuse Lenore Brent, truly his kind of woman. But on arrival at posh Morros Lodge in Baja California, Dan finds the ostensibly rich, carefree guests all playing roles...except, possibly, ham actor Mark Cardigan. What does Ferraro want with him? Can he trust anyone?
120 min

This story didn't happen in Italy.

It only started there.

Naples, Italy.

In one of those big, quiet, peaceful villas

overlooking the bay.

And the senator claims that he has

been "misquoted. "

And here's really something for our

shortwave listeners.

A society item from

the New York plunderworld.

It's called "Where Do

Old Gangsters Go to Die?"...

...or "Guess What Upper-Crust Crumb

Just Bought a Plushy Villa...

...Overlooking the Bay of Naples. "

None other than the old boss...

...onetime gambling kingpin and vice czar

of New York, New Jersey and points west...

...Nick Ferraro.

Nick has been fretting it out in Italy

for four years...

...since immigration authorities sent him

packing back to his native Naples.

But I'm giving odds that Ferraro

is still head man...

...in the gambling and vice setups

in the United States.

And at the present rate of exchange...

...it should be netting him a cool

2 million bucks a year, tax-free.

A cool 2 million bucks a year.

It should be, if I was getting it.

Get me Corley in Mexico.



IJQ. IJQ. This is XFO.

This is XFO standing by for you.

Morro's Lodge is a remote but elegant

Mexican resort...

...on the east coast of lower California,

accessible only by plane or boat.

It was the kind of place Ferraro would

pick for what he had in mind.

Deal's all set on this end.

Just finishing up the details with

Krafft and Thompson. Go ahead.

What about the other one?

Have you found the other one? Go ahead.

We have him salted down

in Palm Springs.

I'm flying up to meet Arnold in

Beverly Hills tomorrow night.

Now, look, don't worry, Nick.

The other one will be here in plenty of time.

- Go ahead.

- Okay. I'll see you in a couple of weeks.

- Go ahead.

- Right. Signing off. This is XFO, clear.

- Ferraro?

- Yeah.

He's getting impatient.

It isn't easy to get back into

the United States once you are deported.

- I know.

- Who is this other one?

Was just coming to that, Thompson.

In a couple of weeks, a man will arrive

here at Morro's Lodge.

Your job is to keep him here till the Tropic

comes into the bay with Nick Ferraro.

Then you'll take him aboard.

Krafft will attend to the rest.

This is Ferraro.

- He's a big man.

- Six-something.

Perhaps his easy life in Italy

has made him soft.

He's around 195, but solid.

- Excellent. Still young?

- Thirty-five.

This man you're sending down,

does he know all about it?

No, not everything.

That's how the story started.

And somewhere in California

was a man...

...height 6-something,

weight 195, age 35...

- Good evening, Mr. Dan.

- How's it go, Sam?

Nothing to it.

Just let me have a glass of milk.

You suppose we can do without

that radio?

Where you been?

I ain't seen you since the last rain.

- Palm Springs.

- Hustling the millionaires?

I went down there to cure a cold.

I wound up doing 30 days.

For what?

For nothing.

I don't get it.

Well, I got it.

Somebody is putting the salt on me.

You can cuff it.

- Does it show that much?

- Only to me.

Got anything in mind?

Yes, I have. I'm gonna go home and

go to bed, where I can't get into trouble.

You think not?

I'll see you all of a sudden, Sammy.

You need a fourth?

Hello, Danny.

Who are you?

I don't know you guys.

Oley Chester wants the dough.

What dough?

You bet 200 across

on a pig called Lagging Boy...

...and that's just exactly what he was.

Oley wants the 600.

- I made a bet with Oley?

- You called it in.

Somebody called it in.

I never bet on a race in my life

that wasn't fixed.

- When did it run?

- Thursday.

I must've called it in

by walkie-talkie...

...because last Thursday I was digging

a road for the law in Coachella Valley.

Be a lot smarter just to come up with it.

I'm out.

Pair of aces.

Don't you think it would be nice

if you cleaned...

...before you got out of here?

Just come up with it.

- Hello?

- Milner's here.

The boys know

not to mess up his face?

Okay. But don't rough him up

too much.

Okay, boys, that's enough.

Charlie, get my money.


Yeah, this is Milner.

No, I'm not busy, Corley.

No, I was just getting ready

to take my tie off.

Wondering whether I should

hang myself with it.

Yeah, I can come over.

Sure, right away.

Second light to the left.

- Nice to see you, Milner.

- Hello, Corley.

What'll you have to drink?

Oh, that's right, you don't drink.

How about a soft one?

Ginger ale will be just fine.

You look like a shot in it

might help you a little.

Just the ginger ale is fine.

Thanks, Corley.

You got a dime on you?


Still salty.

- You tell me why.

- All right.

Every once in a while, a good man,

like a good horse, gets into a slump.

Just can't scratch the pad.

You know what I mean?

I knew you'd understand.

Like you.

You blew a bundle in Reno.

In Vegas, they nicked you for 6 grand.

In Palm Springs, they tapped you out.

And tonight, Oley Chester

had me spanked for nothing.

Maybe this part of the country

isn't lucky for you anymore.

Given it a thought?

- Have you?

- Somebody has.

- Like who?

- A fella named Arnold.

And where is he?

Right here.

My proposition's a very simple one.

Well, I'm a very simple guy.

The deal entails, as far as you're

concerned, two important items.

One you'll find extremely interesting,

the other you may object to.

First, you'll make yourself $50,000.

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Frank Fenton

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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