The Black Dahlia

“And there’s Liz, sitting all by herself. She tells me she needs money, and since I can tell so

I looked at Russ. He mouthed the word, “Dulange”; I nodded, picturing Betty Short on the loose until she met Frenchman Joe on the morning of the twelfth. The missing Dahlia days were coming together.

Russ said, “And you and John Vogel went back to your assignation then?”

Sally tossed the Perso

“Did he talk to you about Liz Short?”

“He said she loved the Big Schnitzel.”

“Did he say that they’d made plans to meet again?”

“No.”

“Did he mention his father and Liz in any context at all?”

“No.”

“What did he say about Liz?”

Sally hugged herself. “He said she liked to play his kind of games. I said, ‘What kind of games?’ So

I said, “Finish it up. Please.”

Sally eyed the door. “Two days after Liz got in all the papers, Fritz Vogel came by my hotel and told me so

“He beat me up then. He asked me all these questions, like whether Liz would mention tricking with a cop’s son to Charlie. I told him Charlie and Liz were just acquaintances, that he’d just sent her out a few times, months and months ago, but he kept hitting me anyway, and he told me he’d kill me if I told the police about his son and the Dahlia.”

I got up to go; Russ sat still. “Miss Stinson, you said that when John Vogel told you his father’s name you got scared. Why?”

Sally whispered, “A story I heard.” Suddenly she looked beyond used-up—ancient.

“What sort of story?”

Sally’s whisper cracked. “How he got kicked off that hotshot Vice job.”

I remembered Bill Koenig’s rendition—that Fritzie caught syphilis from hookers when he worked Ad Vice, and was ca

Sally dredged up a clear voice: “I heard he got the syph and went crazy. He thought a colored girl gave it to him, so he shook down this house in Watts and made all the girls do him before he took the cure. He made them rub his thing in their eyes, and two of the girls went blind.”

My legs were weaker than they were the night at the warehouse. Russ said, “Thank you, Sally.”

I said, “Let’s go get Joh

We took my car downtown. Joh

I drove slowly, looking for his familiar blue serge figure. Russ had a syringe and Pentothal ampule he’d kept from the Red Manley interrogations out on the dashboard; even he knew this was a muscle job. We were cruising the alley in back of the Jesus Saves Mission when I spotted him—solo rousting a pair of piss bums scrounging in a trash can.

I got out of the car and yelled, “Hey, Joh

He said, “What you doin’ in civvies, Bleichert?” and I hooked him to the gut. He bent over double, and I grabbed his head and banged it into the roof of the car. Joh

Now he was out cold. I took the .38 from his holster, tossed it on the front seat and stuffed Joh

The ride to the El Nido took half an hour. Joh

The trip upstairs half roused him; his eyes fluttered as I dumped him into a chair and cuffed his left wrist to a heating pipe. Russ said, “The Pentothal’s good for another few hours. No way he can lie.” I soaked a bath towel in the sink and swathed Joh

Joh

Joh

I nodded. Joh

Joh

“Tell me anyway.”

“Vogel, John Charles.”

“When were you born?”

“May 6, 1922.”

“What’s sixteen plus fifty-six?”

Joh

Fat Boy seemed genuinely befuddled. I kept it zipped; Russ said, “What’s your father’s name, son?”

“You know him, loot. Oh… Friedrich Vogel. Fritzie for short.”

“Short like in Liz Short?”

“Uh sure… like Liz, Betty, Beth, Dahlia… lots of monickers.”

“Think about this January, Joh

“Uh… yeah.”

“He bought you a woman for two days, right?”

Russ answered him calmly: “It’s only for a little while. You had the prostitute at the Biltmore, right?”

“Right. Daddy got a rate because he knew the house dick.”

“And you met Liz Short at the Biltmore, too. Right?”

Spastic movements hit Joh

“Who introduced you?”

“What’s her name… The hooer.”

“And what did you and Liz do then, Joh

“We… divvied on ten scoots for three hours and played games. I gave her the Big Schnitz. We played ‘Horse and Rider,’ and I liked Liz, so I just whipped her soft. She was nicer than the blondie hooer. She kept her stockings on, ‘cause she said she had this birthmark nobody could look at. She liked the Schnitz, and she let me kiss her without the Listerine like the blondie made me gargle.”

I thought about Betty’s thigh gouge and held my breath. Russ said, “Joh

Fat Boy jerked in his chair. “No! No no no no no no! No!”

“Ssssh. Easy, son, easy. When did Liz leave you?”

“I didn’t slice her!”