When Lewis read these reports, he arranged to take a train back to Detroit. He knew the news stories would be telegraphed to the Detroit newspapers.
At midnight on November 18, Fleishman reported for duty as usual. He was assigned to a patrol with two inspectors to cover the customary run along the River Rouge and the Wyandotte area. They visited the usual haunts, looking for any of the hoodlums who might be seeking an “all clear” signal for moving their whiskey across the river. None of them at the time had read the dispatches from Washington printed in the Detroit newspaper.
Shortly before dawn, the three men stopped in a Wyandotte restaurant for a bowl of soup and a sandwich. The restaurant was operated by Joe Rosen, one of the mobsters, and after a while Rosen came to the table. He whispered into the ear of one of the patrolmen and then hurried from the room.
“What’s going on?” Fleishman asked. “Are we going to get some action?”
The inspector said, “Finish your sandwich and let’s get out of here.”
When they returned to the car, the inspector said, “Joe says at least three undercover men are working on the force and they’ve put the finger on about forty men. The mob is trying to find out who the stool pigeons are. Nothing’s going to move until they do.”
For the next two hours, Fleishman’s companions talked of little else except the bribes they had turned down, and how honest they had been. Fleishman knew their talk was solely for his benefit. They were not good enough actors to conceal their anxiety.
When they finally stopped at a restaurant for a cup of coffee, Fleishman excused himself on the pretext that he had to call his wife. Instead he called the Barlum Hotel and asked for Elmer Lewis.
Lewis answered the phone. Fleishman explained what had happened. “This doesn’t look good to me, Mr. Lewis,” he said.
Lewis said, “Your job’s finished. Now go home and pack your things. Get over here with your wife as fast as you can. You’ll both be safer here.”