Cpt. Donnelly: Well done, lads. You did well with the Summers case. But we have a problem. The examiner received a new letter today.
Phelps: Do you mind if I take a look, Ray?
Pinker: Go right ahead. They've both been rinsed in gasoline like the previous letters, so I can't lift a print.
Phelps: No one else but the killer knew about this message. Another snippet from the Shelley Poem. To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night. If the note is from the Dahlia maniac, he definitely also killed Theresa Taraldsen.
Carruthers: Mal and I agree.
Cpt. Donnelly: But where does that leave us? If this is the Dahlia killer and he is responsible for the Taraldsen murder, not to mention on the Moller case...
Galloway: Hang on a moment, Skipper.
Cpt. Donnelly: Let me finish, Rusty. We have five birds in hand and none in the bush. The Department will not survive the scandal if we have to let them all go without catching a fiend first. Your careers would be over for a start, gentlemen.
Phelps: "Looking in wonder..."
Galloway: Oh, fuck it.
Phelps: "...while yet the the music pealed along..."
Galloway: I knew this run was too good to be true.
Phelps: "...I hid myself within a fountain in the public square."
Galloway: You like that stuff? What is it supposed to mean?
Phelps: It's supposed to... forget what it's supposed to... What does he want it to mean?
Pinker: Where are you going with this, Cole?
Phelps: He's obviously taunting us. He believes he is far more intelligent than we are.
Galloway: Okay, it's some kind of story, right? A guy that God hates, chains him up...
Phelps: It's an allegory, Rusty.
Cpt. Donnelly: A what?
Pinker: A story with two meanings. A symbolic meaning...but that's what he wants us to think.
Phelps: Could he be using it literally? "Within a fountain in a public square." Could it be that easy, Ray?
Galloway: Could somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?
Phelps: The fountain in Pershing Square. Come on. We have a clue. Captain. Thanks, Ray.
Pinker: Be careful, Phelps. This is his game you're playing now.
Phelps: You know the way. You can drive. All those cases, Rusty. What have I been telling you all along?
Galloway: We've got to get this guy.
Phelps: I know. Enough women have died.
Galloway: Yeah, and it's our asses on the line, too, Phelps. You heard what the Captain said. The department is not going to take responsibility for all those bad convictions.
Phelps: Success is a double edged sword.
Galloway: Let's just get this sick pervert and have it done with.
Rather you than me, Phelps. You know the local hobos use that as a latrine?
Phelps: There is a cave, all overgrown with trailing odorous plants which curtain out the day. Where next? Elizabeth Short. Betty Short. The Black Dahlia. Elizabeth Short's Social Security card.
Galloway: Jesus Christ.
Phelps: That's not all. There's another stanza from Shelley.
Galloway: You got a city map? See if you can work out where he's taking us. I don't like this freak leading us around by the nose.
Phelps: You're behind the wheel.
Galloway: Him. It's really him. The fuck who killed the Dahlia. Can you believe this? He's leading us...
Phelps: It's his game, Rusty. He may want someone to catch him, but he's extremely dangerous. I doubt if he will give up easily.
Galloway: Suits me down to the fucking ground. We clip this fuck and we get citations. Ha, what a day to be a cop. That pencil pushing Parker won't be able to shove me aside after this.