Finding Marlowe

Daniel Miller: It was hot and I was late for lunch. I was feeling mean, like I'd been left out in the sun too long.

We were meeting at a joint on La Brea, the kind of place where the booths have curtains you can pull shut if you need a little privacy. I slid across cool leather and got my first good look at Louise Ransil, a wisp of a redhead with high cheekbones and appraising eyes.

She sat with her hands folded on the worn table, a stack of old paperbacks next to her.

Ransil had a script she'd been peddling to the studios. I'd started reading it — a detective caper set in 1930s Los Angeles — and wanted to find out about the claim on the title page.

"BASED ON A TRUE STORY: From case files of…