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Her。
A month passed。 Lee didn't return； the two dope traffickers were convicted and hanged for the De Witt…Chasco killings； my Fire and Ice ad continued to run in all four LA dailies。 The Short case moved from headlines to back pages； tips fell off to almost zero； everyone but Russ Millard and Harry Sears went back to their regular assignments。 Still assigned to Her； Russ and Harry kept putting in straight eights at the Bureau and in the field； spending evenings at the El Nido； going over the master file。 When I got off duty at 9：00； I'd visit for a while on my way to see Kay； quietly amazed at how obsessed Mr。 Homicide was being； his family neglected as he prowled paper until midnight。 The man inspired confession； when I told him the story of Fritzie and the warehouse； his absolution was a fatherly embrace and the admonishing； 〃Take the Sergeant's Exam。 In a year or so I'll go to Thad Green。 He owes me one； and when Harry retires you'll be my partner。〃
It was a promise to build on； and it kept bringing me back to the file。 With my days free and Kay at work； I had nothing to do； so I read it over and over。 The 〃R；〃 〃S；〃 and 〃T〃 folders were missing； which was an annoyance； but other than that it was perfection。 My real woman had Betty Short pushed back across a Maginot Line into professional curiosity； and I kept reading； thinking and hypothesizing from the standpoint of being a good detective…the road I was on until I tripped that alarm。 Sometimes I felt connections begging to be made； sometimes I cursed myself for not having ten percent more gray matter； sometimes the report carbons just made me think of Lee。
I continued with the woman he saved from a nightmare。 Kay and I played house three and four times a week； the hours late now that I was working swingwatch。 We made our tender kind of love and talked around the bad events of the past months； and as gentle and good as I was； I kept churning inside for an outside conclusion…Lee back； the Dahlia killer on a platter； one more Red Arrow shack with Madeleine or Ellis Loew and Fritzie Vogel nailed to a cross。 What always came with it was a big； ugly replay of me hitting Cecil Durkin； followed by the question： how far would you have gone that night？
The beat was where it ate at me the most。 I worked East 5th Street from Main to Stanford； skid row。 Blood banks； liquor stores selling half pints and short dogs exclusively； fifty…cent…a…night flophouses and derelict missions。 The unspoken rule down there was that foot beat hacks worked strong…arm。 You broke up bottle gangs by whacking winos with your billy club； you hauled jigs out of the day labor joints when they insisted on getting hired。 You rounded up drunks and ragpickers indiscriminately to meet the city quota； beating them down if they tried to run from the drunk wagon。 It was attrition duty； and the only officers good at it were the transplanted Okie shitkickers hired in the manpower shortage during the war。 I patrolled half…heartedly： little jabs with my stick； handing winos dimes and quarters to get them off the street and into the wine bars where I wouldn't have to roust them； low quotas on my drunk sweeps。 I got a rep as the Central swingwatch 〃sob sister〃； twice Johnny Vogel saw me passing out chump change and hooted uproariously。 Lieutenant Jastrow gave me a Class D fitness report my first month back in uniform…a clerical aide told me he cited my 〃Reluctance to employ sufficient force with recalcitrant misdemeanants。〃 Kay got a kick out of the line； but I saw a stack of bum paper building up so high that all Russ Millard's juice wouldn't be able to return me to the Bureau。
So I was back where I was before the fight and the bond issue； only further east and on foot。 Rumors raged on my way up to Warrants； now speculation centered on my fall。 One story had me shitcanned for beating up Lee； others had me infringing on East Valley Division's process…serving territory； punking out on a bout with the 77th Street rookie who won the '46 Golden Gloves； incurring Ellis Loew's wrath by leaking Dahlia info to a radio station opposed to his uping DA candidacy。 Every rumor portrayed me as a backstabber； a Bolshevik； a coward and a fool； when my second month's fitness report ended with the line； 〃This officer's passive patrol behavior has earned him the enmity of every enforcement…minded policeman on his watch；〃 I started thinking of handing out five…spots to the winos and beatings to every bluesuit who looked at me even slightly hinky。
Then she came back。
I never thought about her on the beat； when I studied the file； it was just detective drudge work； facts and theorizing on a mon DOA。 When my lovemaking with Kay got too involved in affection； she came to help； served her purpose and was banished as soon as we finished。 It was when I was asleep and helpless that she lived。
It was always the same dream。 I was at the warehouse with Fritz Vogel； beating Cecil Durkin to death。 She watched； screaming that none of the drool cases killed her； promising to love me if I made Fritzie quit hitting Charlie Issler。 I stopped； wanting the sex。 Fritzie continued his carnage； and Betty wept for Charlie while I had her。
I always woke up grateful for daylight； especially when Kay was beside me。
On April 4； almost two and a half months after Lee's disappearance； Kay got a letter on official LAPD stationery：
4/3/47
Dear Miss Lake…
This is to inform you that Leland C。 Blanchard has been formally dismissed from the Los Angeles Police Department on grounds of moral turpitude； effective 3/15/47。 You were the beneficiary of his Los Angeles City Credit Union account； and since Mr。 Blanchard remains out of touch； we feel it is only fair to send you the existing balance。
Best wishes；
Leonard V。 Strock；
Sergeant；
Personnel Division
A check for 14。11 was included。 It made me killing mad； and I attacked the master file so I wouldn't attack my new enemy… the bureaucracy that owned me。
CHAPTER TWENTY…THREE
Two days later the connection jumped up off the carbon and grabbed me by the balls。
It was my own FI report； filed on 1/17/47。 Under 〃Marjorie Graham；〃 I had written： 〃M。G。 stated E。 Short used nickname variations of 'Elizabeth' according to the pany she was with。〃
Bingo。
I had heard Elizabeth Short called 〃Betty；〃 〃Beth；〃 and once or twice 〃Betsy；〃 but only Charles Michael Issler； a pimp； referred to her as 〃Liz。〃 At the warehouse he had denied knowing her。 I recalled that he didn't impress me as a killer； but that I still found him hinky。 When I'd thought about the warehouse before； it was Durkin and the stiff that came on strong； now I replayed it strictly for facts：
Fritzie had beat Issler half to death； ignoring the other three loonies；
He had stressed side issues； shouting： 〃Tell me what you know about the Dahlia's missing days；〃 〃Tell me what you know；〃 〃Tell me what your girls told you。〃
Issler had answered back； 〃I knew you at Ad Vice。〃
I thought of Fritzie's hands shaking earlier that night； I remembered him shouting at Lorna Martilkova： 〃You whored with the Dahlia； didn't you； girlie