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It was a dank, rain-sodden Raymond Chandler kind of morning, as if some omnipotent auteur had rung up thestudio and ordered a classic film-noir sky. Only a sap would be outon a day like this, searching for the seedy soul of L.A. noir. Yet tourists often come here, searching for the Los Angeles of the 1930s, '40s and '50s. They seek remnants of a period whenthe city was an incubator of tawdriness, a place where corruption,double-dealing and unchecked passion gave rise to a literary andcinematic genre that to this day captures the imagination. Take a photographic tour of L.A. noir. Already this morning, fueled by too many black and bitter cups o'joe, you've swung by the Southern Pacific Railroad Depot inGlendale, scene of the crime in the seminal noir thriller "DoubleIndemnity." You picture a hunch-shouldered, stubble-jawed Fred MacMurray skulking around the tanned Mission Revival structure, not stoppingto admire the twisted columns or handcrafted ironwork. Now, you head downtown and to the Hotel Barclay (nee Hotel VanNuys), one of Chandler 's haunts and the setting for the gruesome ice-pick-in-the-neckmurder scene in his novel "The Little Sister." The art- deco sign remains, but the hotel has long been shuttered, its windowscracked and duct-taped. Move along, Bub. Nothing to see here. Black Dahlia's ghost Plenty to see at the nearby Millennium Biltmore, the famous, swankydowntown hotel that once hosted the Oscars and retains its ornate, retro opulence. This was, legend has it,the last place the Black Dahlia (aka Elizabeth Short) was seen in1947 before her dismembered body was discovered in a weedy patchsouth of town. That's a real-life murder, pal, not some made-up movie plot.(Although, this being Los Angeles , it eventually became a feature film.) In its day, the BlackDahlia case -- still unsolved -- created a media frenzy: Think O.J. Simpson trial to the nth degree. In the expansive lobby, featuring a stained-glass ceiling andmarble fountains with water trickling out of lions' mouths, you tryto picture the Black Dahlia in her low-cut black dress, snappinggum and batting heavily mascaraed eyelashes as she slinks out thedoor toward her fate. You approach a dame behind a desk. She says her name is NicoleSolum. Claims she's the hotel concierge. You have no reason todoubt her. "We get people bringing it up all the time," she says. "Sometimes,we get tour groups. Sometimes, they'll ask if the [Black Dahlia's]ghost haunts the halls." What of it? Is it true about ghosts? Spillit, sister. "Well, this is an old hotel ...," she says, leaving the answerdangling. "We don't mind people asking. We even have a cocktail inthe bar called the Black Dahlia." No time to imbibe the noveltyBlack Dahlia martini made with Absolut Citron vodka, Kahlua and Chambord raspberry liqueur. A teemingmetropolis awaits. On the boulevard You hightail it to Hollywood Boulevard and Musso & Frank Grill, where in a back room celebratedwriters of the era (everyone from Chandler to Nathanael West to F. Scott Fitzgerald and William Faulkner ) used to convene. Upon arrival, you see the landmark restaurant issmack-dab in the middle of the area's cheesiest tourist trap, anarea best avoided unless you want to beat yourself up withexistential ennui. Make a sharp right on Ivar Street and search for West's rentedcottage, the place where he wrote "The Day of the Locust." In thenovel, he calls Ivar Street "Lysol Alley" and says the roominghouse was "mainly inhabited by hustlers, their managers, trainersand advance agents." Now, it appears little more than a clean,middle-class neighborhood of apartment buildings and bungalows.Under the gentrified facade? Well, who knows? You travel west on Santa Monica Boulevard to the blood-red exterior of the Formosa Cafe, away fromthe tourist hordes. Back in the day, this watering hole was said tobe a police-protected hangout for gangsters, molls, prizefightersand bookies. Moviegoers may remember the Formosa as the setting in the neo-noir1997 flick "L.A. Confidential," where a detective played by Guy Pearce says to a bleached blonde in a booth that "a hooker cut to looklike Lana Turner is still a hooker; she just looks like Lana Turner ," while his worldly partner (played by Kevin Spacey ) smirks because he knows it really is Lana Turner sitting there. Grisly exhibits Los Angeles is so movie-saturated that you forget the crimes were real. A tripnortheast of town to the Los Angeles Police Historical Society Museum -- housed in a decommissionedpolice precinct headquarters -- slaps some sense into you. A museum dedicated to the LAPD might at first come off as a mug'sgame for noir fans, given that the Rodney King and Rampart corruption scandals are not mentioned. Yet the museumprovides plenty of grisly exhibits about cases that defined thecity, from the Black Dahlia to the Manson family and beyond. Jail cells remain from the 1940s. Batons and blackjacks merit theirown display case, as do gangster-period machine guns. Luridheadlines from the period's infamous kidnappings and murders linethe walls. Fiction mingles with fact in tributes to Jack Webb (of "Dragnet" fame) and the TV show " Adam-12 ." As you wander the drafty floors of the old police station, themuseum seems to tell you that the good guys (the cops) always wonin the end. It's a sunny and sanitized display, right down to thelife-size cutout of former Police Chief Daryl Gates , toothy grin and all, at the front desk. The lurid underbelly Quote Chandler from "The Long Goodbye": "Out there in the night of a thousandcrimes, people were dying, being maimed, cut by flying glass,crushed against steering wheels or under heavy tires. People werebeaten, robbed, strangled, raped and murdered." Where to see thelurid underbelly? Tipsters point you to the Museum of Death on Hollywood Boulevard. There, beyond the serial-killer and suicide-cultmemorabilia and the room dedicated to the embalming process, liesthe California Death Room. Not for the squeamish, it shows graphic photos of actress Sharon Tate , murdered by the Manson family; even more hideous severed-torsopolice shots from the Black Dahlia investigation; and a walldedicated to later serial-killer cases -- the Hillside Stranglerand the Night Stalker. The femme fatale who runs the Museum of Death, a dazzling redheadnamed Kathy Schultz, says she has gotten death threats from peoplewho say "we should not be promoting serial killers, thesedespicable people." She adjusts her horn-rimmed glasses and casts agimlet eye on you: "Look, I love life and all aspects of life. Andpart of life is death." Bukowski drank here Dusk approaching, you have one last stop. You drive south on the freeway 20 miles to Rancho Palos Verdes and Green Hills Memorial Park.You're looking for Charles Bukowski 's grave. It's been said that Bukowski 's gritty, dissolute poetry and prose brought L.A. noir into moderntimes. Certainly, he had the seediness part down. At least two-dozen barsin L.A. boast that " Bukowski drank here" before his death in 1994. You're told that Bukowski fans, in tribute, often drink, smoke and fornicate upon his grave. All you see at Plot 875, with its headstone overlooking PalosVerdes mansions to the right and the port of San Pedro to the left,are two wilted flowers in a cup, rain-soaked and missing a fewpetals. His epitaph reads: "Don't try." A perfect noir image. Before your trip, get in the mood with these recommended noir films and novels . IF YOU GO Los Angeles Police Historical Society Museum WHERE 6045 York Blvd., Los Angeles ; laphs.org HOURS 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday; 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. thethird Saturday of the month HOW MUCH General, $8; seniors (62 and older), $7; children (12 andyounger), free Museum of Death WHERE 6031 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood ; museumofdeath.net HOURS 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. Sunday through Friday; 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.Saturday; $15 Musso & Frank Grill WHERE 6667 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood ; mussoandfrank.com HOURS 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday Formosa Cafe WHERE 7156 Santa Monica Blvd.; West Hollywood HOURS 4 p.m. to 2 a.m. Monday through Friday; 6 a.m. to 2 a.m.Saturday-Sunday Millennium Biltmore Hotel Gallery Bar and Cognac Room WHERE 506 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles ; millenniumhotels.com Charles Bukowski 's bungalow WHERE 5124 De Longpre Ave., Los Angeles Bukowski 's grave WHERE No. 875 Green Hills Memorial Park, 27501 S. Western Ave., RanchoPalos Verdes. 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