All language subtitles for The Black Dahlia (2006).eng

Mr. Fire
versus Mr. Ice.

For everything people were
making it out to be

you'd think
it was our first fight.

It wasn't.

And it wouldn't be our last.

And, in local news,

violence between servicemen
and zoot-suiters reached
a new level tonight

after the wives of two sailors
were criminally attacked.

An order listing Los Angeles
as a restricted area

has not deterred the fighting,

but the Los Angeles
Police Department
assures the public

that it has the situation
completely under control.

Hey, sawbuck
on the private chasing
that skinny one over there!

Come on, private!

Come on, private!
That spic's quick!

Jesus Christ!

Double or nothing
on that greaser!
You're on!

Bleichert!

I already knew him
by reputation,

record down pat.

A regular attraction
at the Hollywood
Legion Stadium.

Lee Blanchard.
Bleichert!

43-4-2 as a heavyweight.

Shit!

And he knew me,

Dwight "Bucky" Bleichert.

Light heavy,

36-0-0. Ranked tenth
by Ring Magazine.

Fighting no-name opponents
in a no-man's-land division.

Get out of here!

Hey, get back there.

In our first year
at Central Division Station

we never spoke.

To the Halls of Tripoli,
shitbirds.

Who's this?

Officer Bleichert,

meet Señor Tomas Dos Santos.

You came all the way
down here just to roust
some Class B felon?

Came down here, same as you,
to keep from getting killed.

Happened to see some jarheads
beating on a good collar.

I'll take him in the morning.
This is nuts.

We'll never get him
booked tonight.

That's a nice left hook
you got.

Mmm.

Well, you know, old habits.

Yeah.

My girlfriend saw you fight
a couple of times
over at the Olympic.

Said you were good.
Said you were somebody.

Big fish, small pond.

Never made it up to the
big boys' division like you.

My first 20 fights
were stumblebums

handpicked by my manager.

Lucky to survive.

There's a Jew-boy Deputy D.A.
over in Central Warrants,

wets his pants for fighters,

and he promised me
the next spot he can wangle.

Warrants was
local celebrity as a cop.

Warrants was chasing
real criminals

not rousting winos
and wienie waggers in front
of some Midnight Mission.

Hey, Bleichert.
Bleichert.

They want to see you upstairs.
The D.A.'s office.

Jew-boy D.A.s
with hard-ons for fighters.

Transfers, promotions...
Officer Bleichert.

Back then,
I told myself I didn't care.

Gentlemen, Bucky Bleichert.

Bucky,
this is Chief Ted Green.

Nice to meet you.

Deputy District Attorney
Ellis Loew.

Read that out loud, Dwight.

That's running
in the Sunday Times.

"Before the war,
the City of Angels

"was graced
with two local fighters,

"pugilists with styles
as different as fire and ice.

"Lee Blanchard..."

Excuse me.

"Mr. Fire and Mr. Ice
never fought each other

"but duty brought them
to the Los Angeles
Police Department.

"Blanchard cracked
the Boulevard-Citizens
Bank robbery case in 1939

"and captured thrill-killer,
Tomas Dos Santos.

"Bleichert
served with distinction
during the Zoot Suit Wars."

Jump to the end.
Right, boss.

"On Election Day, voters are
going to be asked to vote
on a bond proposal

"to upgrade
the LAPD's equipment

"and provide for an 8%
pay raise for all personnel.

"Keep in mind the examples
of Mr. Fire and Mr. Ice.

"Vote 'Yes' on Proposition B."

What do you think?

Subtle.

Prop B's a loser right now,

but I think if we can
drum up some publicity

we can get it passed
in next month's election.

Yes, sir.
Fire and Ice.

Ten rounds, Academy Gym,
three weeks from now,
before the election,

all gate to charity.

After that, we bring back
the boxing team.

What do you say, Bucky?
You in?

I got to
get back in shape.

Bucky.

Lee.

I'd like you to meet Kay Lake.

Hello.
Hello.

You beefing up?

You know.

I was just telling Kay here
about our new hobby.

Are you a fight fan,
Miss Lake?

No, Lee used to drag me.

I was taking art classes,
so I'd sketch.

She made me quit fighting
the smokers.

Didn't want me doing
the "Vegetable Shuffle."

I promise not to hurt you.

That won't make Loew
very happy.

Oh, he's got money on me?

Seems that way.
You win, you get Warrants.

What's in it for you?

Well, betting works both ways.

My girl's got a taste
for nice things

and I can't afford to
let her down.

Right, babe?

Keep talking about me
in third person.

It sends me.

What do you think of all this,
Miss Lake?

Well, for civic reasons,
I hope the LAPD is ridiculed
for perpetrating this farce.

For personal reasons,
I hope Lee wins.

And, for esthetic reasons,
I hope you both look good
with your shirts off.

Papa?

Guten Tag, Dwight.

English, Papa.

Hey, you haven't finished
this plane yet.

Can you finish that?

Here, sit down.

If you could just come by
and clean the place up,

keep an eye on him
for a week or so.

I know I still owe you.

Guess what I hear is right.

You'll want to place this
with Mickey Cohen's indie.

He's got Blanchard, 2-1.

That confident, huh?

You done your homework?

Yeah. I've done my homework.

I'm not betting on me, Pete.

Blanchard's the hero here.

That's the way
the story's supposed to go.

I'm just the other guy.

Well, at least he looks good
with his shirt off.

Where's your sketchpad?

I was never any good.

Ended up with a Master's
in History.

Education's
an expensive habit.

Lee paid for it.

He shouldn't have
quit fighting.

I asked him to.

Besides, police work
gives him a sense of order.

Do you have a girlfriend,
Dwight?

I'm saving myself
for Rita Hayworth.

So he quits
fighting for you,
puts you through school.

Quite a guy. Quite a pair.

Why aren't you married?

You know,
shacking's against regs.
Probably cost him a stripe.

So where's the diamonds
and the bassinets, huh?

Well, you'd have
to sleep together
for that, Dwight.

The gym was packed
to the rafters.

A wild crowd hungry
to see what was in us.

I already knew what was in us.

Ambition, pride,

dissatisfaction at a life
turned just the wrong way.

Luck, Dwight.

Come on.

Keep it clean!

I feel it's my duty
as a friend to tell you this,

make it look good.

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

I lost a lot of things
in life...

Seven!

...but never
a fight for money.

Eight!

I was trading Warrants
for a close-out on old
bad debts.

The eight grand
I was going to clear

was enough
to maintain the old man

in a good, clean rest home
for three years.

The late-round tank job,

enough to convince myself
I wasn't a complete coward.

Box!

Finish the fight!

Where's that hook?

You're out!

Give me a smile.

It's nice, isn't it, Papa?

What do you think?

Hey! Canvasback!

Canvasback!

You going to hide in there
another week?

Ain't you bored yet?

Nice chompers.

So, you want to work Warrants?

I lost.
What about Loew's deal?

Don't you read the papers?
The bond passed yesterday.

You want the job?

Atta boy, Mr. Ice.

Champ!

Show them what's
under the lip, boss.

Right over here.

Officer Bleichert,
the men of Central Dicks.

Homicide,
Ad Vice, Bunco, et cetera.
I'm Captain John Tierney.

You and Lee
are the white men of the hour,

so I hope
you enjoyed your ovation.

You won't get another one
till you retire.

Enough horse shit!
Listen!

This is the felony
summary report

for the week ending
November 14, 1946.

First, two liquor store
stickups

Broadway and Seventh,
and Hill Liquor in Chinatown.

That one comes
with a pistol whipping,

my personal favorite.

Russ Millard, Homicides.

Hi.
How are you?

My wife and kids thank you
for the raise, Officer.

Officer Bleichert,
I'm Bill Koenig.
This is Fritz Vogel.

Welcome aboard.
Pleasure to meet you.

Lee, I heard something
you ought to know.

I was over at County Parole,
and Bobby DeWitt got
an "A" number.

He'll be released to L.A.
in late January.

Thanks, Russ.

Who's Bobby DeWitt?

Old beef.

Pot roast tonight?

Don't say anything
about DeWitt.

It'll upset Kay.

Sure.

Nice place.

Fight stash.

Hello.

Dwight.
Glad you could make it.

How was your first day?

Mostly backslaps and paperwork
if I know those boys.

And look at that smile now.

Well, this is nice,
isn't it?

What?

You and Lee partners.
It's nice.

It couldn't have worked out
better if you'd planned it,
could it, Dwight?

Well, I could've beat him.

Except you didn't.

I don't know, sweetheart.
Bucky was somebody
back in the day.

And here we all are...

It's nice.

It's more than nice.

Might even be worth those
front teeth of yours, Dwight.

A toast

to Proposition B.

To the Bleichert-Blanchard
rematch,

bigger than
Louis-Schmeling.

To my supercops!

To us!

From November
through the New Year,

Lee and I captured
11 hard felons,

18 traffic warrantees
and three parole
and probation absconders.

After tours of duty,
Lee and I would go
to the house and find Kay.

Sometimes she'd make
dinner for us.

Other times, the three of us
would go out on the town.

Always she'd be there

never between us,
always in the middle.

For New Year's,
we headed downtown

to a dinner club
owned by Morrie Friedman,

a friend of Mickey Cohen's

who sometimes clued
Lee in to L.A. drug traffic.

Happy New Year!

It was the best time
of my life.

Listen up!
Gentlemen, thank you.

"Raymond 'Junior' Nash.

"Statutory rape,
armed robbery, felony mayhem.

"Texas State Prison.
Alcatraz."

Mr. Nash pistol-whipped
a little old lady

at a stickup near
Leimert Park,
Tuesday morning.

She died last night.

Anything common
in the sex beefs?

Negro girls. Young ones.

All the complainants
have been coloreds.

Junior Nash
was an inbred Okie shit-kicker

who came west and took
all us locals for easy marks

just because
we prefer our cowboys
to look like Gene Autry.

Of course, I didn't care
if he was a hard man

or what he thought
about anything.

He raped children and beat
senior citizens to death.

He was a coward
and I wanted to put him down.

I got a tip for the hophead
who's going to be at Norton
and Coliseum tonight.

Hey, partner,
everything good to go?

Yeah.

Nash just got a fuck pad
on Norton and Coliseum.

Scram! Get out of here!

Okay!

Fine.

Don't make me say it twice!
All right! We're going!

Make some money, man.

Oh, my! Oh, help!
Help me! Help, somebody!

Please! Help!
Stop! Stop the car!

Please stop! Stop! Stop!

Listen. I'm broke.

Baby,
he's gonna cut us
a real good deal on this.

I have been knowing him
for a long time.

You ain't got to worry
about a thing, okay?

You ain't got to worry.
I got this dirty cop.

Mmm-hmm.

He's going to
take care of me real soon.

And I mean real soon.

Dirty cop?

I haven't heard
of a clean cop, Baxter.

I just want to go home.
Why do you do this to me, huh?

Why? Why this? Why? Why?

Same reason
why you do this to me.
You know why I do this to you.

Where is this guy?
He's right there.
We almost there. Come on.

Come on, baby! Come on.

Oh, God,
I got to follow you now?

Come on.

Listen, this is the last time.

Bucky, wake up.

Bucky, look out! Get down!

I was half-asleep,
but Lee had his boxer's wits
about him.

He felt the blow coming.

He saved my life.

Get your motherfucking
hands off me, man.
I ain't done nothing!

Yeah, what do you call that
shooting gallery back there?

Fuck you, man!

Lee!

Lee!

Well, that's about it.

Thank you
for your time, Detective,
and for the good police work.

Blanchard knew the white guy,
I guess.

Busted him once.

He snitched for Lee
a couple of times.

Baxter Fitch.

It's a busy neighborhood.

Take a look at top billing.

All right, easy.
Guys, guys. Please.

Don't trample over everything,
please. Easy.

Secure the area.

All right, listen up.
No reporters view the body.

You photo men, finish
taking your pictures now.

Coroner's men,
put a sheet on the body
as soon as they are done.

We set up a perimeter
six feet back.

Any reporter crosses it,
arrest him.

Now, gentlemen, before
this gets out of hand,

let's put the kibosh
on something.

With publicity,
you get confessions.

With confessions,
you get crazies,
liars and false leads.

So, we keep some things quiet.

The ear-to-ear
facial lacerations,

disembowelment,

you keep this information
to yourselves.

Not your wives,
not your girlfriends,

no other officers,
and I mean no...

Bleichert, what the hell
are you doing here?

Where the hell's Blanchard?

He's right here.

Nash might be renting a room
in that building over there.

I heard something
on the radio about
a shooting.

Was that Nash?
No.

We had some trouble.

Stand back!
Get back of the line!

Move back. Come on, boys.

Get them back!

Hey, Raymond Nash, remember?

We need to go
check out that room.

Nash didn't do this.

No. But he beat
a woman to death.

That's why
he's our priority warrantee.

All right!
I need everybody right now!

Baby.

What happened?

Nothing.
I don't want to talk about it.

Lee, Baxter Fitch just
happened to be there?
What happened, Lee?

What do you know about it?

I know you, Lee.
I know you, Lee.

Lee...

He knew one of the guys, so...

Dwight, was it you or them?

He saved my life.

Hey, Kay,
who's Bobby DeWitt?

I know he's an old beef
of Lee's.

But he doesn't
want to talk about it
and he gets out in a week.

You know who he is?

I'm scared, Dwight.

I'll take care of it.

You don't know Bobby.

Bobby DeWitt.

Who are these men
who feed on others?

What do they feel
when they cut their names
into somebody else's life?

It was the case
that made Lee's career.

He'd never said a word
about it and I'd never asked.

One of Lee's snitches
fingered Bobby DeWitt,

a small-time pimp
with a yard-long rap,
as the brains behind the job.

DeWitt never
spoke the entire trial,
never coughing up the dough

even after damning
character testimony
from some of his girls

including one Katherine Lake,

formerly of Sioux Falls,
South Dakota,

and looking to go straight.

DeWitt got 10 to life
in San Quentin.

Lee got Kay

or maybe it was
the other way around.

We're supposed to be
looking for Nash.

Priority.

Yeah, priority
for Homicide Division, not us.

Nice white girl gets snuffed.

Got to show the voters
they did the right thing
passing the bond issue.

It's A-plus, Buck.
We don't miss this.

Maybe she wasn't
such a nice girl.

Maybe that old lady
that Nash snuffed was
somebody's loving granny.

Maybe we let
the Bureau handle this

and we get back to our job
before Nash snuffs
somebody else.

Got any other maybes?

Yeah, maybe we've had
enough headlines.

With or without you, Buck.

With or without you.

Therefore, we have created
a special unit

which will include a number
of highly trained officers

including
Detective Russell Millard,

our very own Mr. Fire

and his partner, Mr. Ice.

Mr. Loew, can you assure
the public that you will find

the murderer
before he strikes again?

I can guarantee you

this killer will be caught.

You got us detached?
Slow and easy, Buck.

I gave Loew a memo saying
Nash blew our jurisdiction.

You did what?

Are you fucking nuts?
It's all right.

The APB still stands.
He's covered.

This is the main event.

Nash is pure undercard.
Just give me another week
with this girl.

What's your problem
with this?

Letting Nash slip.

On gross pathology,
we have a female Caucasian
between 16 and 30.

The cadaver
is presented in two halves

with bisection
level with the umbilicus.

Through and through
lacerations
of both mouth corners.

No visible bruising
on the neck.

Rectangular abrasions
on the wing tips
of the sphenoid bones.

And, oh!
A puncture wound, here,

in the palm.
On the palm of the right hand.

There.

Investigation of upper half
abdominal cavity reveals
no free-flowing blood.

Intestines, stomach,
spleen, liver, all removed.

Is it all right to smoke,
Doctor?

She won't mind.

Lower half of cadaver
reveals removal
of all reproductive organs.

Both legs broken at the knee.

Questions.

What's your best guess?
Well, here's what she wasn't,

she wasn't raped
and she wasn't pregnant.

In terms of the nitty-gritty,

the cause of death
is either the mouth wound here

or she was beaten to death
with something like
a baseball bat.

What about her insides?

They came out posthumously.

I say then he drained
the blood from the body

and washed it clean,
probably in a bathtub.

Have you got a name yet?

"Elizabeth Ann Short.

"Date of birth,
July 29, 1924,

"Medford, Massachusetts."

Cops popped her in '43.
Santa Barbara.

Underage drinking.

Other than that, she's clean.

Four sisters,
parents divorced,
her father's here in L.A.

Oh, and I hear he sold
some old photos of her
to the Herald.

I got an alibi just in case
you think I did it.

Tighter than a crab's ass,
and that is airtight.

Detective Bleichert,
Mr. Short.

This is Detective Blanchard.

We would like to
express our condolences
for the loss of your daughter.

Yeah, I know who you are.

Neither of you'd have lasted
a round against Jim Jeffries.

And as for Betty,
she called the tune,
she paid the piper.

You want to hear my alibi?

Yeah, since you're
so anxious to tell it.

Johnny on the spot
here at the diner.

Twenty-seven straight hours
at that grill.

Twenty-seven straight,
last 17 overtime.

You ask anybody here.

They'll alibi me up
tighter than a popcorn fart

and that's
pretty fucking tight.

When was the last time
you saw your daughter,
Mr. Short?

Betty came west in '43,
stars in her eyes.

I promised her three squares
and a five-spot,
she kept the house tidy.

She live with you then?

I gave her the boot in July.

Moved to Santa Barbara.
Sent me a postcard
a couple weeks later.

Some soldier
beat her up pretty bad.

That's the last
I heard from her.

I need three pigs
in a blanket.

Keep your fucking panties on.

Was that soldier
her boyfriend, Mr. Short?

Boyfriend?
They were all her boyfriends.

As long as they wore
a uniform.

See, Betty believed in
quantity before quality.

You calling your
own daughter a tramp?

I got five daughters.

One rotten apple ain't so bad.

Well, maybe this time
she had a boyfriend.

Maybe.

Any names, Mr. Short?

Look, Tom, Dick, Harry,
it don't matter.

She said she was looking
for movie work,

but she just paraded
Hollywood Boulevard

in those black get-ups
of hers.

I mean, who wouldn't get
herself killed doing that,
huh?

Who wouldn't?

We just got handed the entire
U.S. armed forces as suspects.

Flip to see
who writes it up?

I'm staking
Nash's pad tonight.

See if we get any strange
drive-bys at the murder scene.

Do me a favor. Stop by
and check on Kay, will you?

Yeah, sure.

Hello, Dwight.

How'd you know it was me?

Lee stomps.

Is Lee working late?
Mmm.

What's wrong?

He's all bent out of shape
on this dead girl.

He's going
a little squirrelly.

Benzedrine, I think.

Did you read the papers?

She's being played up
as the hottest number
since the atom bomb.

Ellis Loew's looking
to make a career on it.
I think Lee's not far behind.

What about you?

What about me?

What's going to happen to us,
Dwight?

The three of us, I don't know.
No, us.

Just the two of us.

Us.

Kay,

there is no two of us.

He's my partner.

And that's everything.

He's done a lot for me.

He's done even more for me.

There's food in the fridge.

Good night.

Thank our friend Bevo Means
at the Examiner.

See, Bevo's painting
Betty in a black dress
like some actress

in that Alan Ladd movie,
Blue Dahlia.

Should triple our confessions.

Great.

Hollywood will fuck you
when no one else will.

Hey, Johnson,
go get a smoke.

What do you want to do?
I want to go back to Warrants.

No dice.

You're a bright penny,
Bleichert,
and I need you here.

These are Betty's last known
residences and associates.

You go to University Station,
pick up Bill Koenig.
Fritzie's sick.

Lieutenant...

No. You call me Russ

and you get out of here.

So, how do you want
to play this, Sarge?

Fritzie usually does
the talking.

Muscle job?

Why don't you let me
try and talk to her?

All right, first question,

does a Lorna Mertz
live here?

She used to.

She skipped town this morning.

But I'm holding this suitcase
till she ponies up
the back rent.

Is this it?

Miss Short moved around
quite a bit, too, didn't she?

Was anybody threatening her?

Poor Betty.

Her problem wasn't
too many enemies.

It was too many friends.

I gathered that.

Okay,
let's change the subject.

All right.

How about the world
of high finance?

How about the movies?

You girls are all trying
to break in, right?

Darling, I'm in.

Congratulations.
How about Betty?

Maybe once.

Maybe not at all.

She came around
last Christmas,

bragging about
getting her big break.

Guess after all
those screen tests,
she finally got a part.

But,

she had a tendency to...

Stretch the truth?

No.

She fucking lied.

Do you know the names
of any of her boyfriends?

What is it?
You can tell me.

Well,

I do remember,
before she split,

her and Lorna...

Mertz?

Yeah. Her and Lorna Mertz.

I mean I don't want to
tell any tales out of school

but I do remember them being
up on Hollywood Boulevard

speaking to this older woman.

And she,

she was wearing a man's suit
and had a man's short haircut.

But it was just that once.

Miss Saddon,
are you saying they
were talking to a lesbian?

Your driver's here.

Yeah. I got to go.

We're not done yet.

Well, then,
how about you arrest me?

Because the truck don't wait!

Why don't we take
a look inside Lorna's bag,
and then maybe you can go.

That's her.

Christ, she's 15.

Do you know what studios
Betty tested at?

They weren't exactly studios.

Screen test,
Elizabeth Short.

So, where are you from?

Boston.

How long you've lived here?

Two years.

Lost your accent.
Yeah.

You know, when in Rome. Why?
Are you looking for a girl
with an accent?

No, no. That's all right.

Because I can just bring it
back like that.

Because I'm a whiz
with accents and I basically
do every accent in the world.

We don't really need
an accent, thank you.

'Cause I can be
from anywhere.

Okay.

Let's hear
that Boston accent.

Now?
Yes.

No, I can't do it now.

I would have to meet with
my dialect coach, Milton Perl,

who was introduced to me
by David Selznick.

You know
David O. Selznick?

I do.

He's been very,
very, very kind to me.

He's taken me out
to such beautiful dinners

in fancy restaurants.

And he's treated me
like a lady

and with respect

and guess what.

He was very, very,
very impressed

when I did my Scarlett
for him.

You auditioned for
Scarlett O'Hara?

No, I didn't audition for
Gone With The Wind,
but, the thing is...

Gosh, I just love that movie
so much

that I decided
that I had to memorize
all of Scarlett's dialog.

Well...

And I want to do it for you

because I think
you're handsome.

No, no, I don't think
we need that...
But I think you're handsome

and I'm going to do it
for you right now.

"As God is my witness

"As God is my witness

"I will never go hungry again.

"Even if I have to lie

"or cheat

"or steal.

"I'll never go hungry again."

He hated her.

Bad, and he wanted
the whole world to know it.

Lee, you got to eat something.

Get this off the table!
God damn it!

Dwight,
you got to do something.

He's been like this
since last night.

Get some air.
I'll take care of him.

Bucky,
this ain't a random job.

He knew what he was doing
every single step of the way.

You learn anything
about our girl today?

Nothing worth
you doing this to yourself.

Come on.
Let's get out of here.
No, I'm staying here with her.

Come on.

Go learn something
about our girl!

Love

For sale

Advertising young love
for sale

Beverage Control?

LAPD Homicide.

Who got snuffed?

Seen either of them?

The Dahlia's a sister?

I don't know. You tell me.

Never seen her
except in the papers.

And the schoolgirl twist,
I've never seen.

We don't truck
with underage stuff, capisci?

Never seen her, man.

Don't fucking lie to me.

She's 15 fucking years old.

Come clean or I'll slap
a contributing beef on you

and you'll spend
the next five years

serving raisinjack
to bull dykes in Tehachapi.

A couple of times.
Two or three months ago.

She used to get drinks
off the sisters,

though, she liked boys.
I'm sure, man.

Not the Dahlia. Never.

For a trip to paradise

Love

For sale

Let the poets pipe of love

In their childish way

I know every type of love

Better far than they

If you want
the thrill of love

I've been through

Excuse me, ladies.
I'm sorry.

I was wondering
if you've seen this girl.

Have you?

No.

Everything but true love

Haven't seen her.

This girl?

Advertising young love

For sale

If you want to try my wares

Come with me
and climb the stairs

Love

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She wasn't the first
Dahlia wanna-be I'd seen

but she was the best.

Was she the les
that Betty and Lorna knew?

Or was she just some
rich bitch with a taste
for the low life?

I will not have these
in my house anymore.

No!

It is insane!

After everything
that's happened to us, Lee.
I will nail this guy, Kay!

I'll do this,
I will do this!

Talk to her, Bucky.
Reason with her.

Jesus.

Lee, she's right.

There's at least
three misdemeanors here.

You can't...

I promised him a week on this.
Four more days, and it's over.

Dwight, you can be
so gutless sometimes,
you know that?

Three days
since we killed four men.

Three days
until Bobby DeWitt got out.

I tried to tell myself
I was the sturdy leg
in our little triangle.

I was worried it was true.

Slumming, Miss Linscott?

I am now.

Daddy spying on me again?

"Maddy, girl,
you shouldn't
be congregating

"in such unsuitable places."

I'm a policeman.

That's a new one.

Homicide.

Let's try Elizabeth Short
and Lorna Mertz.

I know you knew them,
so don't jerk me off.

Otherwise, it's downtown
and a whole lot of publicity.

This is all a fluke.

I met them at LaVerne's
last fall.

Betty, maybe one time.
Lorna, a couple.

They'd come in
to cadge a drink
or a meal off a sister.

So why'd you rabbit
last night?

Mister,
my father is Emmett Linscott.

The Emmett Linscott?

He built half of Hollywood
and Long Beach.

Imagine the headlines,

"Construction Tycoon's
Daughter Questioned
in Dahlia Case.

"Footsie
at Lesbian Nightclub."

Get the picture?

Technicolor.

So what'd you talk about?

When?

When you were playing footsie.

Lorna talked about her stupid
boyfriend back in Hicktown,
Nebraska, or wherever.

Betty talked about the latest
issue of Screen World.

Starlets, Hollywood dreams,
the whole sad nine yards.

So, did Betty ever tell you
about a movie she was in?

On a conversational level,
they were right up there
with you.

Cute. Answer the question.

Look, I'm tired.
Do you want my alibi
so I can go home?

Sure.

My family and I were in Laguna
from Sunday through Thursday,
along with the servants.

If you want verification,
call Daddy,

but please be discreet.

So,

what do I have to do to keep
my name out of the papers?

What do you mean?

That's not very convincing.

I don't need
your Daddy's money,
if that's what you're saying.

You know it's not
what I'm saying.

I might be convinced.

Tomorrow night, 8:00.

My address is 482
South Muirfield,
Hancock Park.

I know the address.

Not surprised.

Pick me up.

Like a gentleman,
not like a cop.

Oh, one more thing.

What's your name?

Bucky Bleichert.

Bucky?

I'll try to remember.

I can hear you just fine.

Look, ma'am, you mind?
I've just learned to type.

Yes, I understand.
A werewolf and Red Sheridan.

What if the werewolf
is Red Sheridan?

Yes, that would be
more efficient.

I love tip duty.

How's Kay?

Not good.

You mind if I bunk out
at your pop's place
for a few days?

Sure.

Thanks.

DeWitt gets out tomorrow,
Lee.

I was thinking maybe
I should talk to him.

Blanchard, Homicide.

Lee.

All right, people,
let's get back to work here.

Yeah, it's an earthquake.
I heard it.

Look, I didn't know
you were a boxer.

Daddy's heard of you
and he insists
you stay for dinner.

I told him
we met at that art exhibit
at Stanley Rose's Book Shop.

So, if you have
to pump everybody
for my alibi, be subtle.

Who's this?

Balto.

The paper is the L.A. Times
for August 1, 1926.

Balto was bringing in
the paper

when Daddy found out
he made his first million.

He wanted to consecrate
the moment,

so he shot him.

Here we go.

Mother, Father,
this is my friend, Bucky.

Bucky, this is my mother,
Ramona Cathcart Linscott.

Nice to meet you.

My father,
Emmett Linscott.

Pleasure to meet you,
sir.

And my sister,
Martha McConville Linscott.

Hi.

Saw you fight Mondo Sanchez.
Boxed the pants off him.

Another Billy Conn
you might have been.

Thanks.

Can I get you something?
Sure.

I'll get it, Daddy.
Okay, darling.

Mondo gave a good show.
Whatever happened to him?

Heroin overdose.

Too bad.

He shamed his family.

And speaking of families,

Ramona, Martha.

That's our best Glenlivet,
laddie.

Madeleine says nice things
about you.

Daddy,

can we eat?

Bucky and I want
to catch a 9:30 show.

Of course, darling.

Dig in, lad.

Hearty fare breeds
hearty people.

Haute cuisine breeds
degenerates.

I want to draw
Mr. Bleichert, Daddy.

You're in for
a cruel caricaturing, Bucky.

Maddy's my pretty one,
but Martha's
my certified genius.

What kind of a name
is Bleichert? Dutch?

German.

A great people, the Germans.

Hitler was a bit excessive.

But mark my words
that someday we'll regret

not joining forces with him
to fight the Reds.

You know,
I killed a lot of your
countrymen during the war.

Mr. Bleichert, have you
met Balto in the hallway?

Yes. Very realistic.

An old friend
stuffed him.

We were in the Scots Regiment
together. Georgie Tilden.

He wanted to work
in the flickers.

When did you move here?

1920.

Hollywood was a cow pasture
but the silent flickers
were booming.

Georgie got work
as a lighting man,
me building houses.

Georgie introduced me
to Mack Sennett.

I helped him build
that housing project
he was putting up

underneath
that god-awful sign.

Hollywoodland.

I used to love
the Keystone Kops.

Me, too.

Old Mack knew how
to squeeze a dollar dry.

He had extras moonlighting
as laborers and vice versa.

Georgie and I used to drive
them over to Hollywoodland

after 12 hours
on a silent flicker.

Then put in another six hours
by torchlight.

He even gave us movie credits
a couple of times.

Mother.

Are you feeling well?

Would you like to contribute
to the conversation?

Did you know, Mr. Bleichert,

that Ramona Boulevard
is named after me?

I didn't.

When Emmett married me,

for my father's money,

he promised my family
that he would use
his influence

with the City Zoning Board

to have a street named
after me.

But all he could manage

was a dead-end block

in a red-light district

in Lincoln Heights.

Are you familiar with
the neighborhood,
Mr. Bleichert?

I grew up there.

Yes, well,

then you'll know
that Mexican prostitutes

expose themselves
in windows.

I hear many of them
know Mr. Linscott by name.

That's enough!

I will sing for my supper

when Mayor Bowron comes
to dinner,

but not

for Madeleine's male whores.

He's a common policeman.

My God, Emmett!

How little you think of me.

I'm sorry.
I'm really so sorry.

Mr. Bleichert.

You kept your name
out of the papers.

Until the wedding.

Your mother would love that.

She's a snob.

The kind who takes pills
the doctor gives her

so she doesn't have to admit
to being a hophead.

Do you want to know a secret?

Sure.

Daddy bought
rotten lumber

and old movie sets
from Mack Sennett

and built houses
out of them.

That's how he really made
his money.

He's got firetraps
all over L.A.

His good friend Georgie,
maimed in a car crash,

while running Daddy
some errands.

And now he throws him scraps,

odd jobs, tending
Daddy's rental properties.

You don't have
to tell me this.

I like you, Bucky.

I didn't tell you
all about Betty.

You didn't?

Don't be mad at me.

Last summer, I heard about
a girl who looked like me.

I got curious.

I left notes
at a couple of places,

"Your look-alike
wants to meet you,"
things like that.

I left my number.

She called.

That's how I met her
at LaVerne's with Lorna.

And that's all of it?

Yes.

Tell me something.

Why'd you want to meet
Betty Short anyway?

I've worked hard to be loose

but the way people
described Betty

it was like she was a natural.

"Don't walk out on me,
Richard.

"Say you care.
Say that you..."

Miss Short.

There is a pause
after "care".

Are you familiar
with the English language?

I try to be.

Okay.

Let's try it again.

And remember,
go back to the beginning,
you're begging him.

Begging.

He's walking out on you.

You're begging him.

So, come on, let's do it.

We're running out of
film here. Let's go.

Richard,
don't walk out on me.

Please say that you care.

Say that you think
that I'm beautiful,

and that you love me.

Miss Short, you know,
this is a very sad scene.

Do you think you're capable
of playing sadness?

Sure.

I can do that.

Miss!

Get your hands off her!
I'm an emancipated minor

and if you touch me

without a matron present
I'll sue you!

Leave her alone.
No!

I'm a policeman. Policeman.

You and Betty made
the casting rounds
together, right?

Did you ever get
any movie work?

No.

Well, then,
what about the film can?

It's a movie.

What kind of movie?

Something tells me
it's not David O. Selznick.

Now, you have to tell us
the whole thing, sweetheart,
so think it through.

I was cadging
at a bar in Gardena.

This man started
talking to me.

I thought I was pregnant

and I was desperate
wicked bad for money.

He said he'd give me $200
to act in a nudie film.

He said he needed another
girl, so I called Betty.

We made... Thank you.

...the movie at this big house

a couple of hours
outside town.

Then he drove us
back to L.A.

Where was this house,
exactly?

I was pretty out of it,
if you know what I mean.

What do you think, Russ?

This got anything to do
with the girl's murder?

Long shot, Chief.

What's that about, gentlemen?
Your boy can't hold his water?

I got you Warrants.

You're my men
and you made me
look like a fool

in front of
the most powerful
man in the department.

And you...
Yeah, you. Look at me.

Blanchard? Look at me!

If you weren't Mr. Fire,

you would be suspended
from duty already.

You're a punch-drunk,
washed-up fighter...

Stay out of this, Bleichert!

You're back on Warrants
as of tomorrow.

I want you to report to me
at 0800

with a letter of apology
for Chief Green.

You are a political animal,

and for the sake
of your pension,

I suggest that you grovel.

It is now 8:15
in the morning.

Where's your partner?

I don't know.
I was hoping he'd be here.

Well, it is 8:15
and he is not here

and neither
are his letters of apology.

Bleichert,
get out of my sight.

Try and be a police officer.

Attention
all units in the vicinity
of Crenshaw and Stocker.

Code four.

Two dead. Suspect, dead.

Raymond "Junior" Nash.
Warrant number 5-6-0-9.

Repeat. Code four.

We forgot
about Junior Nash.

Here he is, dead
in the middle of a stickup.

He was trash and a killer

and I'd been right
from the beginning.

We let him slip
and the innocent died.

Blanchard!

He's in the men's.

No. I beat up a wall.
For messing up Nash...

Not good enough.

I'm sorry, Bucky.

Not good enough.

I'm sorry.

Oh, fuck, Lee! Fuck!

Losing the first
Bleichert-Blanchard fight

got me local celebrity
Warrants

and close to nine grand
in cash.

Winning the rematch
got me a sprained wrist,

two dislocated knuckles
and the rest of the day off.

Smile at me.

Look soft and sweet.

I picked up
Lorna Mertz yesterday.

She had a copy
of a stag film,

her and Betty Short
playing les.

Pretty spooky stuff.

Did she mention me?

No.

And I checked
the case file.

No mention of that
number-leaving note
thing that you did.

Listen,

I'm withholding evidence
for you.

It's a fair trade
but it shakes me.

Are you sure
there isn't anything

you haven't told me
about you and Betty?

Betty and I made love once,
that one time last summer.

I just did it to see
what it would be like

to do it with someone
who looked like me.

Jesus Christ.

Bucky, that's it. I swear.

Bucky, please stay.

You stupid slut.

Stay. Sugar, stay!

Hey.

We're famous, Dwight.

Notorious.

Where's Lee?

Bobby DeWitt's
probably in L.A. by now.

Lee always said I'd be safe.

You will be. You will be.

He had a sister.

What?

He had a little sister.

She was killed
when Lee was 15,

and they never
caught the guy.

Why...

Why didn't you tell me
this before?

He made me promise
never to tell you.

He thought it made him
too easy to figure.

Well, it sure explains
some things.

No, it doesn't.

Kay, where's Lee?

If you know,
you should tell me.

Kay,
Bobby DeWitt just got out.

Lee's all hopped up
on Benzedrine,

so what do you
think is going to happen?

Where is he?

Morrie Friedman called
a couple of hours ago.

The guy from New Year's?

Bobby's got a drug deal
somewhere

in a building Friedman owns,
the Olympic, I think.

When?

Now.
Jesus.

Dwight.

Bobby DeWitt?

Get your hands up.

Get up against that wall
over there.

Keep your hands
where I can see them.

Jesus.

I ain't out one week, and...

You're here for a drug deal
with Morrie Friedman.
I know that.

Look, I'm just looking
for a place to take a piss.

Lee Blanchard's here.
Did you know that?
Blanchard?

Man-oh-Manischewitz,
I ain't seen Blanchard
since my fucking trial.

Yeah,
but he's been on your mind.

And you've been on his mind.

I'm thinking that you let
the word out there knowing
he'd come down here.

Look, maybe
I flapped my trap at trial.
Maybe I was thinking revenge,

maybe talking trash
to my cellies,

but all I know is
what I read in the papers,

and when that fucker
killed them niggers...

Finish up.

I don't know
what his version is.
What's your version?

Sir, all this between
me and Blanchard

is that I fucked this
big-tittied Dakota cunt
named Kay Lake...

Hold it, pal.

Blanchard, behind you!

Blanchard!

No!

Here.

My apologies,
Officer Bleichert.

My men are instructed
not to take any chances,
and you did have a gun.

The guy
with the choke rope,

I assume DeWitt brought him
for muscle.

No identification,
nothing left of his face
after he hit the fountain.

You understand why we must
handle things like this, huh?

It's your building.

Uh-huh.

Come on. Bring him in.
Get him in here.

Officer?

See what we got here?

I can't think of another way,
can you?

Come here.

Come on.

Come.

Want to say something?

Fire and Ice.

Fire and Ice.

Excuse me?

Nothing.

Just do it quick.

What happened?
What happened?

What happened?
What happened?

Stolen witness reports,

medical records,
autopsy photos.

Lee had turned his life
inside out

and my dad's apartment
into the Black Dahlia's
House of Horrors.

I confessed
to the only priest I needed.

How long have you known
about this?

I don't know.

Why show me now?

I don't know.

He's not coming back,
is he, Buck?

Stupid son of a bitch,

getting himself killed
over a little mope
like Bobby DeWitt.

Damn.

Did you tell Kay?

Well, that's as far
as it goes, then.

Mo Friedman was right.

Our boy doesn't need
any more headlines.
Neither does Kay.

This...

I want you to
stick with me here.

We are going to make
something of this.

What's a sexy girl
like you so sad about?

Nothing.

You've got tears
running down your face.
What's the matter with you?

Just a bad day.

It's all right.
You must have a lot of fun.

You look like you have
a hell of a lot of fun.
Oh, I sure do.

I'm a fun-loving gal.

You got any special guys
that you, you know...

I have a fiancé.

Yeah, I met him in Florida.

And it was one
of those things that was...

Gosh, I don't know
if you've experienced
this before,

but it was love
at first sight.

Yeah, I get it
about five times a night.

That's what it was.

He asked me to marry him
that night.

And then, the next day,
he was just gone.

Well, that "ask you
to marry him" always works.

No, he promised
he'd come back.

He was an Air Force captain,
which is why he had to leave.
He went overseas.

And you know
what he used to do?

He used to write me

such beautiful, florid,
romantic love letters.

Oh, a poet.

Just a decent guy.

So, what happened
to Prince Charming?

Well, the night that
he was supposed to come back,

he was called to
do one last mission

and his plane crashed

over India.

And now he's dead.

Boy, you sure know
how to tell a funny story.

Yeah, I sure do.

Okay. Should I read
into the camera?

Yeah.

Okay.

I'm told that
I'm very photogenic.

I'm collating the KA update
sheets for tomorrow.

Anything new
you need him to add?

No.

Dolph's tonight?

I'm going to Kay's.

Wednesday nights
were the nights she'd make
Lee and me a big dinner, so...

We haven't done it since.

We're going to try.

Should we say something?

We haven't said anything.

To my supercops.

I feel like I haven't said
anything right.

Haven't done anything right.

There's nothing to say.

There is.

There is.

He saved my life.

He saved my life,
and I saw him there
and I couldn't...

Dwight.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't move.

I didn't move.

I never move. I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.

Kay, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I could've saved him.
I could've saved him.

"Shoddy home construction?"

I cut my foot
on a bathroom tile.

You got it in you
to replace a few?

Yeah, of course.

Dwight.

Dwight.

I'd always wondered
where he kept it.

Were you ever
going to tell me?

He'd given all his money
to Ben Siegel and he...

He wanted to buy us a home.

I didn't know
there was any left.

Were you ever
going to tell me?

Something's burning.

Bobby did do
the bank job, Dwight.
Don't get the wrong idea.

I don't know
what kind of idea
I got right now.

Things were getting really
bad between me and Bobby,
and I had to get out.

I knew this guy that Bobby
made me be with once.

He was a hophead
who let it slip

that he sometimes snitched
to the cops for dope money.

And that's how you met Lee?

I told him what Bobby was
doing to me, how he cut me
and pimped me to his friends

and I told him about
the bank job and where
Bobby was hiding the money.

And then last year,
the guy...

The hophead?

Yeah.

Lee had given him $1,000
for introducing us.

He found out
that Bobby was getting out,

and he threatened to tell him
that we stole from him.

He wanted money that
we didn't have, Dwight.

He wanted $10,000.

What were we going to do?

Promise me, promise me
you'll forgive him
for DeWitt.

Forgive him
for the bank. Please.
It doesn't matter to us.

What was the guy's name?
It doesn't matter.

Kay, tell me the guy's name.

It was Baxter Fitch.

Baxter Fitch,
and then DeWitt.

Lee killed them both
and took the bank money,

making me witness, stooge,

weak point
in a fairy tale triangle.

You're so good
at some things.

Dwight, he loved you.
He loved both of us,
Dwight, so much.

This had nothing
to do with us, Dwight!
Nothing! Don't run out on us!

The basic rule
of homicide applied:

Nothing stays buried forever.

Corpses. Ghosts.

Nothing stays buried forever.
Nothing.

Family's in Laguna.

But you know that.
You've been watching.

Lee and Kay had lived in sin,

not because their shack job
was against department regs

but because the ghosts
of their past had forced them
to choose love over passion.

The veneer of a fairy tale,

only a band-aid
to cover a fractured life.

I didn't believe
in fairy tales.

It was a reunion
of avowed tramps,

old rutters who knew
they'd never have it
as good with anybody else.

Have you met
Balto in the hallway?

An old friend
stuffed him.

We were in the Scots Regiment
together. Georgie Tilden.

He wanted to work
in the flickers.

What?

Nothing.

You miss them?

Mother's insults?
Martha's pornography?

I just never imagined
Georgie so...

The way your father
described him.

Different.

They were young.

He died last year. Angina.

Daddy paid to have him
buried at the family plot
in Scotland.

That's very nice of him.

I don't get modern art.

I doubt modern art
gets you, either.

But I do.

Kay, what the hell
are you doing here?

What am I doing here?

How could you?
How could you?

You follow me here,
after what you've done?

What have I done? Nothing!
You lied to me!

I lied for you!
I lied for us!

What could I do but lie,
Dwight?

You could have
told me the truth.

She looks like
that dead girl!

How sick are you?

You're going to end up
like Lee. You will.

But I will not.

She looks like that
dead girl! How sick are you?

You're going to end up
like Lee.

The set
was enough to tie
Linscott to the porno movie,

but not to the murder.

For that, I needed
to stop worrying about
who killed the Dahlia

and focus on where.

Georgie
introduced me to Mack Sennett.

I helped him build
that housing project
he was putting up

underneath
that god-awful sign.

Hollywoodland.

Lorna Mertz said
it was shot out of town.

People lie.

Oh, a puncture wound
in the palm of the hand.

I say then he drained
the blood from the body
and washed it clean.

I don't
want to go to Europe.

One of my foremen
said the goddamn pipes
are spewing gas.

There'll be hell to pay.

It's about time I showed
the three of you good old
Scotland.

I don't want to go
to Europe, Daddy.

You're always talking
about how dreadful
and provincial it is.

Yeah, but it's got
what you need, lassie.

What is that, Emmett?

Saps like me?

Or is that what you needed?

Oh, laddie.

You killed Elizabeth Short,

and the two of you
covered it up.

You made that stag film
with Lorna and Betty.

I've seen the set.

I found it all.
Put that gun down, laddie.

You're not the shooting type
and I'm not the dying type.

You might be half right.

Jesus Christ, Bleichert.
That's a Ming.

Great. Let's talk art.

Let's talk The Man Who Laughs.
I've seen the movie.

I've got you.

So you don't
like my taste in art.

I don't think
that's a crime.

Stop! Georgie did it!

Oh, that's rich.

Blame it on the poor,
dead gardener.

No, Bucky. It's true.
Believe him.

Georgie was always sneaking
around Daddy's properties.

He saw them make the movie
and he got crazy about Betty.

More.

There are so many
pretty things here, Emmett.

All right.

Betty called,
short of cash, as usual.

I put Daddy on
and he offered her money
to date a nice man he knew.

You must've known
he was a sick fuck then.

Well, he was passive.
I mean, he liked
to touch dead things.

I mean,
his father was a surgeon.

Did you know that?
Famous in Scotland.

We didn't know
he'd go crazy like that.

Liar!

Liar!

You did him enough damage,
Emmett. Now you let him go!

I would appreciate it
if you just stopped shooting
things, Officer, though.

The rich don't own art
just for themselves.

We safe keep it
for future generations.

How did Emmett damage Georgie?

What did he do
to make him go so crazy?

Who made what made who crazy?

It was Madeleine.

She was 11 years old,

and she looked
just like Georgie.

Ramona!

Shut up, Emmett!

That's right, Officer.
George and me.

Not that Emmett cared
about that.

But he was her father.

And for that,

he ruined George's face.

When he got out of hospital,

I gave him the Hugo book
as a present.

He had worked construction
on that movie with Emmett.

It was always
one of his favorites.

That's right. My book.

My picture. My Gwynplaine.

What about Betty Short?

Well, that was
the cruelest joke of all.

He was obsessed with her,
you know, that filthy film!

And your husband
bought her for Georgie.

He's a shy wee lad,
but I...

It'd make him very happy,
I think, if you'd take him
out on a wee date.

What did you do,
Ramona?

I was

waiting up in Hollywoodland.

Oh, gosh.

It was the second swing,

woke her up.

She looked so like my Maddy.

It was

the cruelest joke of all.

We'll ruin you in court.
You know that.

Over what? Some little slut?

It was
neat enough for the papers,
but that didn't make it clean.

The rich lived differently.
I guess they get
to die differently, too.

Hello, Officer Bleichert.

Did you come to pay your
respects or fuck my sister?

I came to talk to you
about Lee Blanchard.

He came here, didn't he?
Asking about your sister
and the Dahlia?

Tell me.

Adios yourself back
to the Halls of Tripoli,
shitbird.

I've got business
with the lady.

Bucky.

Lee knew everything about you
and Elizabeth Short.

He knew everything,
didn't he?

I don't know
what you're saying.

I went by your house today.
I talked to your sister,
Martha.

She told me that a policeman
named Lee Blanchard came by
the house

asking questions about
you and Elizabeth Short.

She told him that
the two of you were close.

Martha was always
jealous of me.

He was blackmailing
your father.

No. I beat up a wall.
For messing up Nash...

So,

on the night that
he went to the Olympic
to settle an old score

you tracked him there.
Like a dog.

I've been pointing my gun
at a lot of people this week.

I haven't had a chance
to shoot anybody yet.

What do you think?

I think you'd rather fuck me
than kill me,

but you don't have
the guts to do either.

You're a boxer, not a fighter.

You're a murderer.

Of my partner.

A murderer?

Of Lee Blanchard?

You should thank me
for Lee Blanchard.

If it weren't for me,

you wouldn't
have had the balls

to fuck your partner's girl.

You don't talk
about them, okay?

Wait. I forgot.

You don't fuck her anymore

because you'd rather
fuck me.

You don't talk about them.

You chose me over her.

You'll choose me over him.

He was going to take
Daddy's money and leave,

leave all of you.

You'd never shoot me.

Don't forget who I look like.

Because that girl,

that sad, dead bitch,

she's all you have.

No.

Madeleine was wrong.
I had others.

Ones I'd loved
and ones who'd loved me.

People I'd betrayed and people
I needed to protect.

And, for the first time
in my life,

I had people that knew that,
for the briefest of times,

in the darkest of places,

I had been so,
so good at some things.

Come inside.