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!
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 Seņor 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 aesthetic 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!
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
"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
For sale
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.