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said Wellington saw the Dahlia and the other girlie in November！ We can still…〃
Ellis Loew shouted back： 〃We can't do that！ Wellington admitted making the movie to Tierney！ He's the supervising officer； and we can't go over his head！〃
I opened the door and saw Loew； Vogel and Koenig huddled in chairs； all of them holding eight…star Herald's obviously hot off the presses。 The framing session fell silent； Koenig gawked； Loew and Vogel muttered； 〃Bleichert；〃 simultaneously。
I said； 〃Fuck the fucking Dahlia。 Lee's down here； Bobby De Witt's here and it's got to go bad。 You…〃
Loew said； 〃Fuck Blanchard； he's suspended〃； I beelined for him。 Koenig and Vogel formed a wedge between us； trying to move through them was like bucking a brick wall。 The DA backed off to the other side of the room； Koenig grabbed my arms； Vogel put his hands on my chest and pushed me outside。 Loew evil…eyed me from the doorway； then Fritzie chucked my chin。 〃I've got a soft spot for light heavyweights。 If you promise not to hit Billy； I'll help you find your partner。〃
I nodded； and Koenig let me go。 Fritzie said； 〃We'll take my car。 You don't look fit to drive。〃
* * *
Fritzie drove； I eyeballed。 He kept up a stream of chatter on the Short case and the lieutenancy it was going to get him； I watched beggars swarm turistas； hookers dispense front seat blow jobs and zoot suit youths prowl for drunks to roll。 After four fruitless hours the streets became too car…choked to manuever in； and we got out and walked。
On foot； the squalor was worse。 The kiddie beggars got right up in your face； jabbering； shoving crucifixes at you。 Fritzie swatted and kicked them away； but their hunger…ridden faces got to me； so I changed a flyer into pesos and tossed handfuls of coins into the gutter whenever they converged。 It spawned scratching； biting and gouging free…for…alls； but it was better than looking into sunken eyes and seeing nada。
An hour of prowling two abreast got us no Lee； no Lee's '40 Ford and no gringos resembling Bobby De Witt。 Then a Rurale in black shirt and jackboots； lounging in a doorway； caught my eye。 He said； 〃Policia？〃 and I stopped and flashed my badge in answer。
The cop dug in his pockets and pulled out a teletype photo strip。 The picture was too blurred to identify； but the 〃Robert Richard De Witt〃 was plain as day。 Fritzie patted the cop's epaulets。 〃Where； Admiral？〃
The Mex clicked his heels and barked； 〃Estación； vamanos！〃 He marched ahead of us； turning into an alley lined with VD clinics； pointing to a cinderblock hut fenced in with barbed wire。 Fritzie handed him a dollar； the Mex saluted like Mussolini and about…faced away。 I strode for the station； forcing myself not to run。
Rurales holding tommy guns flanked the doorway。 I showed my badge； they heel clicked and let me in。 Fritzie caught up with me inside； dollar bill in hand； he went straight for the front desk。 The desk cop grabbed the buck and Fritzie said； 〃Fugitivo？ Americano？ De Witt？〃
The deskman smiled and hit a switch beside his chair； barred doors in the side wall clicked open。 Fritzie said； 〃Precisely what is it we want this scum to tell us？〃
I said； 〃Lee's down here； probably chasing smut leads on his own。 De Witt came here directly from Quentin。〃
〃Without checking in with his PO？〃
〃Right。〃
〃And De Witt has a hard…on for Blanchard from the Boulevard…Citizens job？〃
〃Right。〃
〃Enough said。〃
We walked down a corridor lined with cells。 De Witt was alone in the last lock…up； sitting on the floor。 The door buzzed open； Kay Lake's defiler stood up。 The years in stir had not been kind to him： the hatchet…faced tough of the '39 newspaper pictures was now a well…used piece of work； bloated in the body； grizzled in the face； his pachuco haircut as outdated as his Salvation Army suit。
Fritzie and I walked in。 De Witt's greeting was con bravado tinged with just the right amount of subservience。 〃Cops； huh？ Well； at least you're Americans。 Never thought I'd be glad to see you guys。〃
Fritzie said； 〃Why start now？〃 and kicked De Witt in the balls。 He doubled over； Fritzie grabbed his duck's ass scruff and gave him a hard backhand。 De Witt started to foam at the mouth； Fritzie let go of his neck and wiped pomade on his sleeve。 De Witt hit the floor； then crawled over to the mode and vomited into it。 When he tried to get himself upright； Fritzie pushed his head back into the bowl and held it there with a big spit…shined wing…tip brogue。 The ex…bank…robber…pimp drank piss water and puke。
Vogel said； 〃Lee Blanchard's here in TJ； and you came here flush out of Big Q。 That's a goddamned strange coincidence； and I don't like it。 I don't like you； I don't like the syphilitic whore you were born out of； I don't like being down here in a rat…infested foreign country when I could be at home with my family。 I do like inflicting pain on criminals； so you had better answer my questions truthfully； or I'll hurt you bad。〃
Fritzie released his foot； De Witt came up gasping for air。 I picked a soiled skivvy shirt up off the floor； and was about to hand it to him when I remembered the lash scars on Kay's legs。 The image made me throw the shirt at De Witt； then grab a chair from the catwalk and reach for my handcuffs。 Fritzie swabbed the ex…con's face； I shoved him into the seat and cuffed his wrists to the back slats。
De Witt looked up at us； his trouser legs darkened as his bladder went。 Fritzie said； 〃Did you know that Sergeant Blanchard is here in Tijuana？〃
De Witt shook his head back and forth； spraying off the remnants of his toilet dip。 〃I ain't seen Blanchard since my fucking trial！〃
Fritzie shot him a little backhand； his Masonic ring severing a cheek vein。 〃Don't use profanity with me； and address me as sir。 Now； did you know that Sergeant Blanchard is here in Tijuana？〃
De Witt blubbered； 〃No〃； Fritzie said； 〃No； sir；〃 and slapped him。 De Witt hung his head； lolling his chin on his chest。 Fritzie prodded it up with one finger。 〃No； what？〃
De Witt screeched； 〃No； sir！〃
Even through my hate haze I could tell he was ing clean。 I said； 〃Blanchard's afraid of you。 Why？〃
Twisting in the chair； greasy pompadour wilted over his forehead； De Witt laughed。 Wild laughter； the kind that cuts through pain； then makes it worse。 Livid； Fritzie balled a fist to punish him； I said； 〃Let him be。〃 Vogel relented； De Witt's loony chuckles trailed off。
Sucking in breath； De Witt said； 〃Man o Manieschewitz； what a laugh。 Lee beauty gotta be scared of me 'cause of how I flapped my trap at the trial； but all I know is what I read in the papers； and I gotta tell you that little reefer roust put the fear of God into me； if I'm lyin'； I'm flyin'。 Maybe I was thinkin' revenge up to then； maybe I was talkin' trash to my cellies； but when Lee beauty killed them niggers and…〃
Vogel right hooked De Witt； toppling him； chair and all； to the floor。 Spitting blood and teeth； the aging lounge lizard moaned and laughed at the same time； Fritzie knelt beside him and pinched his carotid artery； shutting off the blood to his brain。 〃Bobby boy； I do not like Sergeant Blanchard