I said, “Maybe Harold Costa and Donald Leyes. You look tired, Sarge. Don’t you want to sit this one out?”
“I’m bored. What should I ask them guys?”
“I’ll handle them, Sarge.”
“You remember the kitty cat, Bleichert. Same thing happened to him happens to guys who try to jerk my chain when Fritzie ain’t around. Now what do I roust them guys for?”
“Sarge–”
Koenig sprayed me with spittle. “I’m ranking, hotshot! You do what Big Bill says!”
Seeing red, I said, “Get alibis and ask them if Betty Short ever engaged in prostitution”; Koenig snickered in reply. I took the lawn and steps at a run, the two men moving aside to let me through. The front door opened into a shabby sitting room; a group of young people were sitting around, smoking and reading movie mags. I said, “Police. I’m looking for Linda Martin, Marjorie Graham, Harold Costa and Donald Leyes.”
A honey blonde in a slacks suit dog-eared her _Photoplay_. “I’m Marjorie Graham, and Hal and Don are outside.”
The rest of the people got up and fanned out into the hallway, like I was a big dose of bad news. I said, “This is about Elizabeth Short. Did any of you know her?”
I got a half dozen negative head shakes, shocked and sad looks; outside I heard Koenig shouting, “You tell me true! Was the Short bimbo peddling it?”
Marjorie Graham said, “I was the one who called the police, Officer. I gave them Linda’s name because I knew she knew Betty, too.”
I pointed to the door. “What about those guys outside?”
“Don and Harold? They both dated Betty. Harold called you because they knew you’d be looking for clues. Who’s that man yelling at them?”
I ignored the question, sat down beside Marjorie Graham and got out my notebook. “What can you tell me about Betty that I don’t know already? Can you give me _facts_? Names of other boyfriends, descriptions, specific dates? Enemies? Possible motives for somebody wanting to kill her?”
The woman flinched; I realized I was raising my voice. Keeping it low, I said, “Let’s start with dates. When did Betty live here?”
“Early December,” Marjorie Graham said. “I remember because there was a bunch of us sitting here listening to a radio program on the fifth anniversary of Pearl Harbor when she checked in.”
“So that was December seventh?”
“Yes.”
“And how long was she here?”
“No more than a week or so.”
“How did she know about this place?”
“I think Linda Martin told her about it.”
Millard’s memo stated that Betty Short spent most of December in San Diego. I said, “But she moved out shortly afterward, right?”
“Yes.”
“Why, Miss Graham? Betty lived in three places that we know of last fall–all in Hollywood. Why did she move around so much?”
Marjorie Graham took a tissue from her purse and fretted it. “Well, I don’t really know for sure.”
“Was some jealous boyfriend after her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Miss Graham, what _do_ you think?”
Marjorie sighed. “Officer, Betty used up people. She borrowed money from them and told them stories, and . . . well, a lot of pretty hard-nosed kids live here, and I think they saw through Betty pretty quick.”
I said, “Tell me about Betty. You liked her, didn’t you?”
“Yes. She was sweet and trusting and sort of dumb, but . . . inspired. She had this strange gift, if you want to call it that. She’d do anything to be liked, and she sort of took on the mannerisms of whoever she was with. Everybody here smokes, and Betty started smoking to be one of the kids, even though it was bad for her asthma and she hated cigarettes. And the funny thing is that she’d try to walk and talk like you, but she was always herself when she was doing it. She was always Betty or Beth or whatever nickname for Elizabeth she was going by at that moment.”
I kicked the sad dope around in my head. “What did you and Betty talk about?”
Marjorie said, “Mostly I just listened to Betty talk. We used to sit here and listen to the radio, and Betty told stories. Love stories about all these war heros–Lieutenant Joe and Major Matt and on and on. I knew they were just fantasies. Sometimes she talked about becoming a movie star, like all she had to do was walk around in her black dresses and sooner or later she’d get discovered. That sort of made me mad, because I’ve been taking classes at the Pasadena Playhouse, and I know that acting is hard work.”