Jonathan Santlofer - L.A. Noire - The Collected Stories

So I backed off. I did not say that Betty had no idea how sad it is not to have a father—even a drunk father—& not to have a mother—even a sick mother like my mother who “could not keep me” because she had “mental problems”—but still, I would live with her, if she was discharged from the hospital… I did not say any of this because I did not want Betty mad at me & screaming & swearing like she did. It was known that Betty Short had a “short” temper! We were sharing a room at the Buena Vista & already it was up to me to make her bed not just my own & hang things up she’d throw down & take away laundry & wash it if I did not want a demoralizing sight to greet me every time I opened the door. & Betty owed me money, I was anxious she would not repay.

Betty said You can get money from men—if they’re the right men not these God-damn bloodsuckers.

Betty seemed angry at most men. She’d been engaged to a major in the US Army Air Corps she had met at Camp Cooke—this was said of her by girls who’d known her longer than me—& her fiancé had died in a plane crash—& she had been pregnant at the time—(maybe)—& had lost the baby or—(maybe)—had had an abortion. & there was something more—Betty had tried to sue her fiancé’s family—for what, it wasn’t known.

& I thought—we have that in common. As my husband Jim Dougherty had left me to join the Merchant Marines because he could not love me as I needed to be loved so Betty’s fiancé had left her in a terrible accident—in death.

Later I found out Betty’s other roommates had evicted her! Coming home in the early morning & waking them & not giving a damn & worst of all stealing from them—they said.

You can’t trust Betty Short. This “Black Dahlia” bullshit — what a laugh.

Betty was nice to me, though—she laughed at me & called me Baby - face. She laughed at me not wanting to pose for nude pictures—I told her if you do nude pictures it’s like taking money from men for sex—it’s a crossing-over & you can’t go back. & she just laughed— Of course Baby-face you can “go back”—who’s to know? & I said if you have a nude photo in your past, the studios will not touch you—(for this was true & well known)—& she said Of course they will—if you are meant to be a star.

Betty had great faith in this, more than any of us—if you could be a star, all would be changed for you.

Between Betty Short & Norma Jeane Baker, it could not have been predicted who would be a “star.” Just looking at the two of us—you could not ever have guessed for sure.

Soon, the name “Marilyn Monroe” would be given me. For the studio did not like “Norma Jeane”—this was an Okie name, they said. (It was not an Okie name! No one in my family was Okie or anything near.) & the studio did not like “Baker”—this was a dull name. But even the new name—“Marilyn Monroe”—did not seem real but a concoction like meringue, that would melt in the slightest rain.

Betty was always looking at herself in a mirror. Betty would look right past your head & if you turned, you would see it was her reflection she was looking at like in a window pane! Betty believed she was beautiful as Hedy Lamarr & that she would be a star soon—all she needed was the right break, the right audition.

Well—this is true! So many of us yearning for this “break”—which will make the sadness of our lives fade, we think—like shadows on a wall when the sun comes out.

& we will think then Now the sadness of my life is forgotten. Now—there will be a new life.

When Betty was in a bitter mood she said you have only a few years if you’re a female. By twenty-five if you don’t have a man to adore you & take care of you or a studio contract—you are through.

But Betty made a joke of it saying You are kaput! Finito! Dead meat!

When she died in that terrible way, Betty was twenty-four.

The saddest thing was—oh not the saddest maybe—but it was awful!—after Betty was found dead in a vacant lot in that terrible way a reporter for the Enterprise called her mother in Medford, MA & told Mrs. Short that her daughter “Elizabeth Short” had won a major beauty contest in California & please could Mrs. Short tell her anything she could of her daughter’s background—& poor Mrs. Short talked & talked all excitedly for an hour—(Betty would have thought it ironic, her mother seemed to have “forgiven” her having heard she’d won a big beauty contest!)—& at the end, the reporter cruelly told her that the actual news was, her daughter Elizabeth Short had been murdered…

Reporters & photographers like K.K.—some cruelty enters their veins, like a parasite—they are not “human” any longer in their pursuit of prey.

What do you know of your roommate Elizabeth Short’s life? “Secret” life?

But I could tell the detectives nothing that others had not told them. & I did not know nearly so much as others did—this was a surprise!

Who it could have been who’d taken Betty into captivity—if it was someone who knew Betty & had lain in wait for her—or someone who had never seen her before that night—was not revealed.

Three days before the morning she was found in the vacant lot dumped like trash, the kidnap must have happened. Betty had been last seen at the Biltmore Hotel at about 9 PM where she had gone to meet someone—maybe?

He must have h-hated her. This one. To hurt her so.

For days he had her tied up in secret, it was revealed in the newspapers. Tied by her wrists & her ankles & (it was speculated) hung “upside-down”—“spread-eagled”—& tortured before he k-killed her…

He slashed her face—that was such a pretty face—& just a girl’s face without the makeup—He cut the corners of Betty’s mouth so it looked like she was crazy-smiling—like a mask…

& then he—did something else…

With sharp knives & it was speculated “surgical tools”…

It is too terrible for me to say. It is too terrible to think of Betty Short in this way, who was my friend & my s-sister…

Oh Betty what has happened to you! Who would do such a thing & why—why to you?

Oh Betty I am sorry—every unkind thought I had of you, & that last night when you “stood me up”—again…

Oh Betty forgive me—maybe I could have helped you s-somehow.

I was twenty-two then. I was a model & had a “starlet” contract at 20-Century Fox—which the studio would let lapse at the end of the year.

Like Betty Short I was desperate for money & sometimes it did cross my mind—I would “do anything” for money…

Except of course—I would not.

Why he was so— angry!

This was such a shock to me I did not ever—

comprehend—& then it was too late.

You would say She asked for it. The Black Dahlia—a slut…

She took $$$ from men, that makes her a slut —

Well I say a married woman is a slut too then—taking $$$ from a man except it is “blessed” by the church—hypocrites I hate you & wish that I could be revenged upon you from the grave especially those of you who have PROFITED FROM THE DAHLIA’S TERRIBLE FATE.

The Bone Doctor did appear to be a “gentleman” & not like most others. He did appear to be well-groomed & thoughtful. Waiting for me in his shiny black Packard sedan outside K.K.’s studio on Vicente Blvd. & when I crossed the street in my black patent-leather high heels worn without stockings having some difficulty with the damn paving stones he called to me Excuse me miss would you like a ride? —& I knew who he was (for K.K. had mentioned to me, this “Bone Doctor” who paid to see girls photographed nude & who had a particular interest in Norma Jeane) though not his name of course—& when I saw him, the glittery glasses like some politician or public man, the smile that was strained but polite, the thought came to me This one is well-to-do & can be trusted —& maybe the thought came to me This one is well-to-do & can be handled, by Betty Short.