you come all the way down here to roust-- impressive. whatta we do about the mex? you'll take him. he's all yours. and i'm not your partner. somethin' up, tommy? his old man fritzie's a central dick. "before the war, the city of the angels was graced with two local fighters, born and raised a scant five miles apart, pugilists with styles as different as fire and ice. lee blanchard was a bowlegged windmill of a leather slinger-- "mr. fire and mr. ice never fought each other, but a sense of duty brought them together in spirit, and both joined the los angeles police department." blanchard cracked the baffling boulevard-citizens bank robbery case in 1939 and captured thrill-killer tomas dos santos; bleichert served with distinction during the '43 zoot suit wars--" "both men made great sacrifices to serve their city, and on election day, voters are going to be asked to do the same thing--vote on a five million dollar bond proposal to upgrade the lapd's equipment and provide for an eight percent pay raise for all personnel. keep in mind the examples of mr. fire and mr. ice. vote "yes" on proposition b." subtle. i'm in. uh, yes sir. hello. i always won. you a fight fan? i'll try not to hurt you. he's got money on me, i gather? and if i win i get warrants? what do you think of all this, miss lake? luck short of winning. papa? speak english, papa. say something, papa. get me mad. tell me how you can fuck this place up so bad in one month. speak. english. papa, please. he's had another stroke. if you could just come by and clean the place up and keep an eye on him for week or so. a hundred dollars is fine. no more than ten days. i promise. i do. thank you. i'm not bettin' on me, pete. knockout between rounds eight and ten. thanks, pete. short of winning? where's your sketch pad? education's an expensive habit to kick. he shouldn't have quit fighting. saving myself for rita hayworth. why not? shacking's against the regs. probably cost him a stripe. you didn't answer my question-- he'll catch on soon enough. gettin' there. what? but i lost. loew's deal-- the proposition passed, sir. why'd you really quit fighting? one more. what are we doin' here? right there! police officer. you're under arrest. play nice. hm. you takin' bribes, partner? hm? can't say i believe in fairy tales. to the bleichert. blanchard rematch! bigger than louis. schmeling! to. us! give us the good news. he's in la and actin' uppity? it's all colored down there-- partner! he knew one of the guys. baxter fitch. busted him once for loitering. sort of liked the guy. he knew one of the guys. we can take care of bobby dewitt. i know as much as i need to know. lee? you okay? keep going. lee. nash is renting a room in that building over there. no. this isn't him. hey. junior nash, remember? no. he beat an old woman to death. that's why he's our priority warrantee. this ain't ours, partner-- anyone discarding women's clothing? and what about this man? you were supposed to meet me at the fights tonight, remember? priority for the bureau. not for us. we've had enough headlines for the week. i heard you. blanchard? you got us detached? you did what? i'm detective bleichert, mr. short. this is sergeant blanchard. we'd like to express our condolences for the loss of your daughter. when was the last time you saw your daughter? was that soldier her boyfriend? any names, mr. short? flip to see who writes it up? she's a smart woman. how'd you know it was me? lee's-- no need for that. it's just. he's done a lot for me. great. i think i want to go back to warrants. lieutenant-- how do you want to play this, sarge? let's try talk job. miss saddon? police. it's about elizabeth short. how about you sit dawn and answer my questions or i bust you for the reefer you flushed. she moved around quite a bit. you know why? was somebody threatening her? i've gathered that. let's change the subject. congratulations. what about betty? stretch the truth? your ride's here-- this'll just take a minute. i'll handle 'em sarge-- i dunno. ask 'em anything. alibis. see if betty ever engaged in prostitution. did she ever tell you she was in a movie? sometime around november? did she say what it was? do you remember the names of any of the guys? what is it? you can tell me. linda martin? are you saying the woman was a lesbian? take their statements, bill. i've got a little more here. lorna martikova. omaha, nebraska. runaway. when'd you see her last? you couldn't have known. no shit sherlock. administrative vice squad? lapd homicide. seen either of 'em? you tell me. capice when your girls tell me that. black dahlia. what about this girl? don't you fuckin' lie to me. she's fifteen fucking years old. so you come clean or i slap a contributing beef on you, and you spend the next five years servin' raisinjack to bulldykes in tehachapi. welcome back to earth, partner. your fault for buying her all those chemistry classes. no. thanks. you send me back to warrants? canvass around the biltmore. if red dropped her off there on the tenth maybe we can start reconstructing the last days before she got snatched. all i know is you should keep an eye on loew and his boys. i didn't put it in my report, but betty sold it outright when she needed money bad enough, and loew's been trying to keep it kiboshed so it'll look better if he ever takes it to trial. and a grandstanding son of a bitch. what are you gonna do? oh jesus. she's right, lee. you've pulled at least three misdemeanors here. it's out of control-- slumming, miss sprague? i'm a policeman. homicide. you sleep with either of them? are you lez? why'd you rabbit last night? in technicolor. what did you talk about? betty ever tell you about a movie she did? show you a viewfinder? anything specific? you're cute. that's all anyone ever wants to volunteer: the alibi. go ahead. i don't need your cash if that's what you're saying. convince me. i know the address. bucky bleichert. so. you smooth things with kay? de witt gets out tomorrow, lee. i was thinking maybe i should lean on him. get fritz vogel and koenig to do it-- bleichert. homicide. sure. a pleasure, mr. sprague. thanks. died of a heroin overdose. german. very realistic. so when did you come here? i always loved the keystone kops. no mrs. sprague, i didn't. i grew up there. not them, me. do me. be with me. well. i think you kept your name out of the papers. your mother would love that. how? you don't have to tell me this-- i like you, too. jesus-- what is it? and that's all of it? then be prepared, babe. there's fifty cops out there combing every bar in town looking for dahlia info. you could be headed for the papers no matter what. you don't mean that. tell me something. why'd you want to meet betty short? how do you mean? i wouldn't know. you made the casting rounds together. ever get any movie work? so what about the film can? a dirty movie? was this around thanksgiving? i think she's covering on the mex angle. maybe she knows him and doesn't want him taking a smut rap. maybe he's white. the tj stuff is sound, though. i'd detach meg caulfield from wilshire clerical to play cellmate for a day. yeah. i did, partner. i did. mr. loew, it's not just betty short-- yes, sir. it's me. you want to get together? i'll pick you up in forty-five minutes. i have an apartment, you know. no. and i checked through the case file. there's no mention of that note-leaving number you pulled. babe, i'm withholding evidence for you. it's a fair trade for what i'm getting, but it still shakes me. is there anything you haven't told me about betty and linda? jesus christ. blanchard! not good enough. notorious, maybe. where's lee? he's in trouble, you know. kay. lee-- short of winning? thank you very much. that was county parole. bobby dewitt bought a bus ticket at the santa rosa depot this morning. san diego. transfer tijuana. lee's down here and so is bobby de witt. finish up with you and blanchard. how long-- he'll came back, kay. i'm sure of it. kay-- he's coming back. lee. i wasn't on the transfer list. why? no. i heard that, too. they've rescinded the apb on lee. if he doesn't show up in thirty days he's out. like the guy who killed the dahlia? russ millard wants me when harry retires. what do you want, ellis? tell me about betty short, pops. why'd you kill her? come clean, pop. tell me about it, cecil. one more time, shitbird. tell me about you and betty short. i'm the nice guy, cecil. keep that in mind. convince me. you're a pimp. you know betty short? why'd you confess to her murder? you feel guilty charlie? you hit your girls, get 'em high on hop? you ever hear anyone refer to betty as liz? anyone at all? issler did. you know what else he said? fritzie didn't give a damn about those other three. it was all about issler. never occurred to me before. hello, charlie. get lost? i want him nailed. maybe charlie pimped her out. to somebody fritzie doesn't want us to know about. i knew it. here. betty writes to one of her phantom servicemen boyfriends: ". had drinks with a great girl, sally stinson, who thinks she way be able to help me get a job cocktailing" yeah, i know. that's what made it stick with me. what next, padre? i want him. hello? you'd hooked with her before? --she do dyke? any porn? did anything unusual happen? did vogel say anything about liz? was he gonna see her again? anything? is this when your pimp charlie confesses? one last time to be sure. you are sure this is the man that you tricked with? and tricked with liz short? but you said-- there. johnny-- elizabeth short, shitbird. elizabeth fucking short! i owe her this one. no comment. no comment. tell your daddy i know everything. including his extortion deal. tell him i'm goin' to the papers tomorrow. i'm officer dwight bleichert and this is officer john vogel. why? kay. first thing. this man's lapd. he's been missing in mexico since january. he was last seen headed here. at least. i have two partners waiting for me in tijuana. blanchard? you've seen him? when? is he still in town? i'm looking to get him out of a shitload of trouble. thank you. ernie. i need to see ernie. i heard this man gave you some trouble a while back. he's my best friend. what happened? that's it? you tell me all of it and you watch what you say about my partner, or it's a b&e roust and the ensenada jail. does he know i'm staying here? so. let's hear it. what's her name? go on. go on. prove it to me. prove it! you got a shovel? good enough. what? sure, babe. hancock park. i'm officer bleichert. lapd. my i express my condolences, mrs.-- like their mother. how old are they? yes. tell whoever cleans it up to use pure ammonia. mrs. chambers-- jane, do you know madeleine and martha sprague? the next block over? i did a little work for them once. how do you mean? bucky. good-bye, jane. yeah. pretty routine. whattya know about the husband? wonder how he made it? oh really? i'm. looking for the hammer. were you ever going to tell me? were you ever going to tell me? ever. were you ever? who was the driver, kay? tell me. tell me! you're not that old. and you're not very widowed. you seem to be doing all right. little over a year. so how well do you know the spragues? your husband sounds like a good man. i read an article in the paper. maybe your husband-- it's not so strange. i'm a cop. illusions aren't standard issue. i stopped her at a red light. one thing led to another. why do you assume it was madeleine? jane. don't be catty. god that is spooky. no thanks. and you mine. it's me. nothing. your father's georgie tilden war stories? hey! goddammit! get back here! babe-- babe. goddammit. wait-- you didn't move far. tighter'n a popcorn fart. i just thought. maybe after all this time. there's something you might have forgot. anything she might have said. my father. she killed herself a long time ago. thank you for your time, mr. short. if-- look, russ. i think. i may have it. i-- her! her! i've got a hot one, padre. it's just. i want to search every fucking inch of every goddamn acre of emmett sprague property if it takes the rest of my shitty career. and i know exactly where we start. box up the books and papers. maybe light that lantern. thing is, russ. thing is. there's another set of latents up there on the doorjamb. and my hands're shaking so bad i can't transfer 'em. we finally have it, russ. all of it. all of her. all right here. no. thanks. i'll stay here. i want to get up early and confirm these prints. and what is that, emmett? saps like me? direct line to the straight dope? or is that what you needed? george tilden killed elizabeth short and the two of you covered it up. of course. she looked like his daughter. how'd it all go down? he was a sick fuck and you knew it! what did you tell betty? what did you tell her? then? pretend i'm stupid. for old time's sake. and then what? i come along? daddy tell you to fuck me or was that your idea? what about sweet little martha? martha tell you this? then she lied to get your goat, 'cuz no one ever called in a tip on laverne's. passports. all four. i need to see it. just to be sure. i need to see it. i need to see his grave, you tightass kiltwearing motherfucker. where'd you bury george tilden? yeah, well. old habits die hard. yes, i'm fine. i know what you did, ramona. you and georgia. i've seen the painting. you sold it the day of the murder. you know i've got the book. and now i've got you. so tell me. let me see. tell me about betty short. your husband bought her for george. for george-- you tortured her. she lied about that. to get madeleine's goat. how much of the hundred grand did lee let you keep? he knew about madeleine sprague. he knew about laverne's hideaway. he blackmailed sprague-- and you knew it, kay! you knew it all! he took that hundred thousand and split to mexico and you let him go! he didn't leave, he ran. he ran from the bank job, ran from the frame on dewitt. he knew who killed elizabeth short and fucking ran away! this whole time. you both knew everything-- sitting on the back of a chair with his feet on the seat. he trains his silenced pistol on them. flashing his badge, he points the soldier to the door: adios yourself back to the halls of tripoli, shitbird. i've got business with the lady. i've been pointing my gun at a lot of people this week. but i haven't had much of a chance to shoot anybody. whattya think? aaaah, lassie. you wanna sell me short to the very end, eh? how 'bout the mexican accent you used when you hired the private dick to track down lee. let's see the make-up job. let's see the fucking dress, mamacita, that you wore when you chased after poor daddy's money. tell me something--you shoot lee yourself?