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and Sears…even though I was really holding it for Sergeant Leland C。 Blanchard。
Who was somewhere out there in the Big Nowhere。
I called up the classified desks of the Times； Mirror； Herald and Daily News； placing a personals ad to run indefinitely： 〃Fire…Nightflower room will remain intact。 Send me a message…Ice。〃 With that behind me； I drove to the only place I could think of to send him one。
39th and Norton was just a block of empty lots now。 No arclights； no police cars； no nighttime gawkers。 A Santa Ana wind blew in while I stood there； and the more I pulled for Lee to e back to me the more I knew my hotshot cop life was as gone as everybody's favorite dead girl。
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In the morning I sent the big boys a message。 Hiding out in a storage room down the hall from my cubicle； I typed copies of a transfer request letter； one each for Loew； Russ Millard and Captain Jack。 The letter read：
I request to be detached from the Elizabeth Short investigation immediately； and returned to my duties at Central Division Warrants。 I feel that the Short case is more than adequately staffed； by far more experienced officers than myself； and that I could more effectively serve the Department working Warrants。 Moreover； with my partner； Sergeant L。C。 Blanchard； missing； I will be in the position of Senior Officer； and I will need to break in a replacement at a time when there is most likely a large backlog of priority papers。 In preparation for my duties as Senior Warrants officer； I have been studying for the Sergeant's Examination； and expect to take it at the next promotion board this spring。 This； I feel； will give me leadership training； and will make up for my relative lack of experience as a plainclothes field officer。
Respectfully；
Dwight W。 Bleichert； Badge 1611；
Central Detectives
Finishing； I read the letter over； deciding that it worked in just the right blend of respect and exasperation； with the half…truth about the Sergeant's Exam a good closing line。 I was signing the copies when I heard a tremendous ruckus ing from the bullpen。
I folded the pages into my jacket pocket and went to investigate。 A group of detectives and crime lab techs in white smocks were surrounding a table； looking down at it； jabbering and gesturing away。 I joined the throng； muttering 〃Holy fuck；〃 when I saw what was jazzing them。
An envelope was lying on a metal evidence tray。 It was stamped and postmarked and smelled faintly of gasoline。 The front of it was covered with letters clipped from newspapers and magazines； glued to the plain white surface。 The words spelled out：
TO THE HERALD AND OTHER LA PAPERS。
HERE IS DAHLIA'S BELONGINGS。
LETTER TO FOLLOW。
A lab man wearing rubber gloves slit the envelope and pulled out the contents…a little black address book； a plastic…sheathed Social Security card and a thin stack of photographs。 Squinting； I read the name on the card…Elizabeth Ann Short…and knew the Dahlia case had blown wide open。 The man next to me was talking the delivery up…a postal carrier found the envelope in a mailbox near the downtown library； almost keeled from a heart attack； then grabbed a pair of radio car bulls； who code three'd the booty over。
Ellis Loew pushed his way up against the lab techs； Fritzie Vogel at his heels。 The head tech flailed his hands in anger； a cacophony of speculation hit the pen。 Then there was a loud whistle； and Russ Millard yelled； 〃Damnit； back off and let them work。 And give them some quiet。〃
We did。
The techs descended on the envelope； dusting it with print powder； leafing through the address book； examining the snapshots and calling out their findings like surgeons at an operating table：
〃Two partial latents on the back flap； smudged； no more than one or two parison points； not enough to run a make on； maybe enough to pare to ining suspects…〃
〃No prints on Social Security card…〃
〃Pages of address book readable； but gasoline saturated； no chance of sustaining latents。 Names and phone numbers mostly men； not listed alphabetically； some pages ripped out…〃
〃Photographs are of Short girl with servicemen in uniform； the men's faces crossed out…〃
Stunned； I wondered： Would a letter follow？ Was my random snuff theory blown？ Since the stuff was obviously sent in by the killer； was he one of the servicemen in the pictures？ Was the mailing cat and mouse； or the precursor to surrender and confession？ All around me； other officers were running with the same dope； the same questions； talking in knots of two and three； or looking rapt； like they were talking with themselves。 The lab techs took off with the plethora of new leads； cradling them in rubber…gloved hands。 Then the only calm man in the room whistled again。
And again the motion froze。 Russ Millard； poker…faced； counted the heads and pointed us over to the rear bulletin board。 We lined up there； he said； 〃I don't know what it means； except I'm pretty sure the killer sent the stuff。 The lab boys are going to need more time on the envelope； then they'll photograph the pages and give us a list of names to do interviews from。〃
Dick Cavanaugh said； 〃Russ； he's playing with us。 Some of the pages were ripped out； and I'll lay you ten to one his name was on one of them。〃
Millard smiled。 〃Maybe； maybe not。 Maybe he's crazy and wants to get caught； maybe some of the people in the book know him。 Maybe the techs will get latents off the photos or be able to identify some of the men from the insignia of their uniforms。 Maybe the bastard will send a letter。 That's a lot of maybes； so I'll tell you what we've got for sure： all eleven of you are going to drop what you're doing and canvass the area around the mailbox where that envelope was found。 Harry and I will be going over the case file to see if any of our previous suspects live or work around there。 Then； when we've got the list of names from the book； we'll go at it discreetly。 Betty spread herself pretty thin with men； and homewrecking isn't my style。 Harry？〃
Sears was standing by the wall map of downtown LA； holding a pen and clipboard。 He stuttered； 〃W…w…we'll do f…f…foot beats。〃 I saw my transfer request stamped 〃Rejected。〃 Then I heard an argument on the opposite side of the squadroom。
The arguers were Ellis Loew and Jack Tierney； both of them trying to score points and keep it sotto voce。 They ducked behind a wall post for privacy； I ducked over to an adjacent phone cubicle to eavesdrop…hoping for skinny on Lee。
It wasn't about Lee…it was about Her。
〃。 。 。 Jack； Horrall wants to take three quarters of the men off the investigation。 Bond issue or no bond issue； he thinks he's given the voters enough of a show。 We can get around him by going at the names in the book a hundred percent。 The more publicity the case gets； the more truck we've got with Horrall…〃
〃Goddamn it； Ellis…〃
〃No。 Just listen to me。 Before； I wanted to downplay the girl as a floozy。 The way I see it now is that it's too far out in the open already to sit on。 We know what she was； and we'll get it confirmed a couple of hundred times by the men in tha