 Pat Novak for hire. Pat Novak for hire. That's what the sign out in front of my office says. Pat Novak for hire. It's up there in block letters, but down on the waterfront in San Francisco, good printing doesn't mean a thing. You get that on the death certificate. If you're trying to make a living down here, you're not going to have any standing in the community except in a police lineup. I rent boats and do anything else that goes with a weak will and a strong stomach. It's not all bad. Once in a while, something happens that makes you feel good for a moment. Like remembering somebody you kissed a long time ago. But most of the time you buy your beer the hard way. It works out all right because most people want to fall in love with a dollar bill and forget about trouble. And everything sounds all right, but sometimes it isn't like saying happy new year to a lifer. I found that out Wednesday night. I was sitting in the office with a sports page reading about those big tears that Washington Senators were shedding when I saw Crockett Odom for the first time. He was a big red face guy and the vein stood out on his face and made a pattern as if he slept on an alligator bag instead of a pillow. He walked over to the desk and started to get quiet and a loud voice. I want to talk to you, Mr. Novak. Go ahead, pile up a lead. My name is Odom. You heard of Crockett Odom. I don't get around. Tell me about it. I'm a lawyer. I want you to watch a client for me. Her name is Wendy Morris. Is she hard to watch? You can get bloodshot eyes just looking at her. She drinks a little. What's a little? How should I answer that? Any way you like. A pint of quart. What's a little Odom? Is she a dipso? We'll leave it there. She can make a quart of gin disappear while anybody else is looking for the corkscrew. What am I supposed to do? Hide the bottles? Mr. Novak, a full grown octopus couldn't do that. I'm afraid this is more serious. It involves her husband. Let her take a drink and lose him. It'll save you money. It involves her husband or somebody who's supposed to be her husband. She's got a bad memory. She's a very wealthy girl, Mr. Novak. Five years ago, she married a man by the name of Stanley Morris. Immediately after her, he went into uniform. You make it sound selfish. He's been gone ever since, until a month ago. He spent most of that time overseas. The rest in the government hospital. Yeah. Now that he's back, something very peculiar has happened. I don't think the man is her husband. Well, that's a hard part to play. Has she got any theories? I think she suspects two. I don't know why I feel that way. He seems to have picked up where he left off. Knows everything about her. Seems normal, but I'm sure the man is an imposter. Look, Odom, find a corner and patch up that story. You can't get that near sighted on five years' booze. You don't understand, Mr. Novak. He was seriously injured. That makes identification hard. You think Stanley Morris is dead? I think he died somewhere along the line, and this man took his place. That's a lot of trouble just to share a board and room with a boozer. Not if he can share it with someone else on her money. That's why I want you to watch her, particularly tonight. Why tonight is Stanley full of temper? It's been leading up to this. He wants her to go to a gambling club. And I know he's too friendly with the owner of the club. I want you to go along as a friend. Now, look, Mr., I wouldn't go as her friend to a masquerade ball. If you're making a deal, make it out in the open. Do it your own way, Novak. It's $300. Earn it anywhere you can. Yeah. Where's the club? She'll take you. Just pick her up at this address. Does she know about it? She'll understand you. In fact, that's the only risk you run. I told you she drinks most of the time. When she doesn't, you're the type she cobbles up. I'll bring some cheese instead. That won't do any good. It's not the flavor she likes, Mr. Novak. It's the crunch. Good night. I know them walked out of there. I knew he was the kind of a guy who'd put the wolf at your door if he could get one wholesale. On the way up the pier, he stopped and looked out at the bay as if he intended to do away with it before morning. And then he turned and disappeared around the corner. Well, I sat there for a while, and I went over his story. I was sure it wouldn't hold any more water than a gross of holes, but I had no way of checking. Finally, about seven o'clock, I closed the office and I went by the address he gave me. It was a modernistic apartment up on Telegraph Hill, one of those places where they let a guy out of the basement long enough to paint murals on the front. This one had a guy waving a blonde wig in front of a tired old monk named Faust. Wendy Morris' apartment was up on the second floor when I rang the buzzer. She opened the door with a nice, easy motion, like a cat getting ready to eat its young. I could see right away what Odum was talking about. If you ever build a house, you'd want somebody like her in the blueprints. She leaned against the doorway and she was wearing a crepe evening gown that was supposed to let you know that nature had given her a square deal. She didn't say anything at first. She just kept fingering her glass and looking at you as if you knew she was full of gin and comfort. It makes a nice rattle. Are you Mr. Novak? Yeah, I rattle too. Invite me in. I'll bet you do. Come in. Are you all paid to like me? Will a drink help, Mr. Novak? Yeah. Sit down. I'll get some. No, this will do. What did Crockett tell you? He said you got thirsty. Did he mention men? Crockett thinks they're related. His sole concession to the medical profession. He mentioned your husband. Where is he? I thought that was the problem. Sounds phony. There must be a way to spot old husbands. How? I wouldn't know. Do you think Stanley Morris is dead? I don't know, Mr. Novak. He's gone away? As long as I'm safe? No. Stanley was no bargain. Why'd you marry him? I don't know. I suppose I confused a hangover with love. Well, he sounds exciting. I thought as lively as a dish rag and a steam bath. It doesn't make any difference now, Mr. Novak. I'm frightened. You've got to help me. You're in for $300? That's all. Where is this gambling joint? Out on Gary Boulevard. It's called the mother load. The sense of humor belongs to Frankie Fanon. Is he funny enough to deal with Stanley? I don't know. Stanley's been out there every night for two weeks. Now he's forcing me to go. There must be a reason. There must be a reason for what? Don't tempt me, Stanley. This is Mr. Novak, my husband. I never heard of you, Novak. You got me worried. He's a friend of mine. What does he do? Drive a beer truck? My husband is being subtle, Mr. Novak. He's going with us, Dan. We don't know anybody well enough to take him with us. You don't have to feel burdened. I'll take him. Aren't you worrying about that leash? Now look, Mr. I'm here in a straight deal. Cash and carry and your credit's through. From now on that mother, yours cost you dough. Go ahead and pout, Stan. You look better with your lip turned in. All right, if you like me, girls, I'll have to make another reservation. Hand me the phone, Novak. Yeah. Yeah. Thanks. Let's go, Wendy, your friend backed out. I hope they got a good price for my head because when I started down, shoulder blades were the best I could do for height. I rolled over once and then I stretched out on the floor as hard as a piece of chewing gum on a theater seat. I don't know how long I chased that woman in the bathing suit. Must have been about an hour when the phone began to ring. I tried to get up once or twice, but I couldn't get the box car off my chest and the phone kept ringing like a piece of crystal in a hail storm. I finally made a ladder out of my knees and got to the phone. Yeah. How's your head? It's a little ripe. What's on your mind? Something's gone wrong. I have to meet you. Not at these prices. I just got a message from Crocodotum. I'm leaving now. I want you to meet me in room 314 of the Galbraith Hotel. Where is it? A third-grade trap on Powell Street. It's important. Will you come? Yeah. And I'm sorry about your head. I'll have to rub the bruise for you. Wait till I get there. You can rub one of your own. She was right about that hotel. In a good season, they couldn't have drawn transient mice. I got there about a quarter to ten. I rode up to room 314. There was nobody there. So I sat down and started to wait. The floor was quiet except down at the end of the hall somebody was playing a phonograph record. The music was thin but loud and I knew they were old records. Way back when this bird Bix was a man instead of a memory. It stopped after a while and I looked at my watch. It was after ten so I left the hotel and I went out to the gambling joint. I toured the room but I couldn't find Wendy or Stan. I got a guy at the window and he remembered somebody like Wendy so I asked about her. He just pointed over at Frankie Fanon's office and went on making change. I crossed over and knocked at the door. The guy that opened it had a face like three pounds of warm putty. It was moist and pink and he got the idea they put the color in with a spray gun. And if his heart was made of the same stuff they drained the oil out first. Yeah. My name's Novak. Who's arguing? I want to talk to you. Yeah. Where's Wendy Morris? I don't know. She was in here the night. It's a jail term. I don't follow women home. Am I supposed to buy that? Look, Junior, I don't care whether you live or die. I haven't seen her. How about her husband? He owes me dough. What else? Ask his wife. He's an IOU to me. I don't know what you're doing here but you'd better make your point. Fanon, if you've got a party I don't want to blow out the candles but I want some answers. Yeah. She got boosted in here the night. Why? I brought her in for word games. I told her if her husband didn't square his fill I'd work him into hamburger. Yeah. She offered to bring the buns. Now that's all the talk you get, mister. Tip the girl on your way out. I need the money. Come in. Choose up and tell me which one's Novak. I am. What's on your mind? The other guy's lucky. I'm Craig from homicide. Where's Hellman? He's got a mouth full of canary, Novak. That's right. I just left room 314 of the Galbraith Hotel. So did I. Two of us made it then. The girl didn't. Novak, he's trying to tell you Wendy Morris is dead. How do you know she's dead? It's the only reason cops drool. You want to see her, Novak? No. She was better alive. Come on down anyway. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I felt like a voice teacher with adenoids. Whoever Craig was, he was smart and he tagged all the bases because as we moved through the lobby, he motioned to me and the desk clerk nodded. I didn't worry about that desk clerk because he hadn't said no for years. But when we got to room 314, I needed to turn a passage. Three or four Craig's men grouped along the dim hall like dirty shadows and inside, Wendy Morris was stretched out looking in the wrong direction. There was a white sheet draped over and I wondered where the hotel had borrowed that, but Craig wanted to talk. You must have had a big beef, Novak. Sorry, we were friends. Oh, but that was fun. I was supposed to meet her here. She didn't show. The desk clerk said she did. Not while I was here. I was in that gambling joint by 1030. The desk clerk says you asked about Wendy Morris. Then you came up here and killed her. That's the way I'm going to book you. Check on her husband. You can fit him in near the top of the list. She got one. It's a lot of blonde hair to keep indoors. Good blondes run like salmon. Wait a minute, Craig. Give me that sheet. Well, well. Yeah? Craig, you better not book me for Wendy Morris. Huh? If you do, you'll mix up all the on-duty angels because somebody killed the wrong woman. This isn't Wendy Morris. Yeah, you must be wrong. How do you know? How does anybody know? They look different. They got different personalities. Take your pick, Craig, but somebody got the wrong woman. Take another look. I don't need another with Wendy. The first looks for names and faces. Yeah? If you take a second, look, Mr. It's for love. Craig liked to pick his dead because when he found out the woman on the floor was somebody else, he started to shake a little and his mouth hung open like a broken screen door. I didn't blame him much. I tried to think back and piece it together, but it wouldn't work out. It almost made sense, like the broken phrases of an old conversation, but not enough of it came back and there was still something missing. What happened to Wendy Morris and how about this girl on the floor? Where did she get her drag with heaven? I looked down at her again. She was pretty if you like quiet girls. She had a vacant look in her eyes as if the brains had checked out without letting her know. And the color was starting to leave her face. The light was bad and he had to look close to see her skin. There were little splotches of paint and the rest was white, like shrimp that hadn't been boiled long enough. Craig was worried and that's something he couldn't hide. Who is she, Novak? I don't know, Craig. We didn't meet her soon enough to know. You should have checked. The hotel register says Wendy Morris. Who read it for you? Oh, you're tough, Craig. I'll bet you got the wine of scared stiff. Keep on talking. I'll get you some help. Come on in. He wants to make a statement. On the bed, Novak. How'd you get your boys, Craig? They look tired. On the bed, Novak. All right, Joe. Take his arms. Yeah. The other two hold his head back against the bed. Where's Wendy Morris, Novak? I don't know, Copper. You sure you're from homicide? So it's against the law. Don't tell anybody. Now make a statement, Novak. Yeah. Here's a statement about you, Craig. We'll find out downtown. You can save some teeth. Where's the other girl? I don't know. Hold him up. Yeah. Where's Wendy Morris? Craig, you can go. Put his head against the bed. It's for exercise now, Craig. All right, he's not a seasoned pass. We don't have to hang on to him. But he's dirty towel and an old garter that I made forgot to pick up last month. I felt my way down to the lobby and into the street. Most of the time, one question kept going through my mind. Craig was going to run me in before. Why had he changed his mind? Well, I found out when I started to turn the corner. Craig had a tail on me and he was real hard to spot like a red nash at the top of the mark. He moved out from under a light near the pool room on the corner and I watched him in the windows as we walked along. After a while, I quit worrying about him because I knew in a pinch he couldn't follow a conversation with a printed form. Well, I had a lot of ground to cover, so I looked up Jaco Madigan. He's a good guy and he was a smart one too. Until he found out if your eyes get red enough you don't need rose-colored glasses. I finally found him at the cafe house as tight as a tennis racket in the rain. God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Jaco, I want to talk to you. Some belated Christmas carols, Patsy. The piano player quit and everybody else dropped out, so I'm doing it acapella by myself. All right, Jaco. Christmas eluded me, Patsy. I got up through Christmas Eve and then I seem to have missed Christmas entirely. Did they hold it this year? Well, it wouldn't happen if you'd get up in the morning. I refuse to get up early, Patsy. I refuse to get up in the morning until the streets have been aired. The only things that should be around at that hour are presents and a bunch of random deals. Jaco, would you listen? I'm in trouble. I'm not surprised because you're a counterfeit, Patsy. You're a piece of plate in a room full of sterling. You're like some of the rest of these people running around in a hurry. Jaco, please. Just plunging into anything. Look at the papers. I've spent years shooting a rocket 110 miles into the air. Watch the use. Will you listen? Watch the use. When you get 110 miles up, all you can do is turn around and come on back down again. We're killing time 110 miles in the air instead of learning to spend it down here. All right, all right. Oh, it's depressing, Patsy. Running around in a frenzy like a rooster in a barnyard full of ducks. I'm ready to take the drink. Are you all through, Jaco? Yes. Humanity is a tough life. What kind of trouble? I bought a murder rap for 300 bucks. If it's a bargain, why complain? Who's dead? I don't know who she is. Homicide found her in a hotel on Powell Street. I tagged by before the murder. Serves her right. If I were a woman, I wouldn't trust you in the middle of Stanford Stadium with 80,000 people. It was the wrong woman. It was supposed to be a gown named Wendy Morris, but she didn't show. That was shrewd of her. I was hired by a lawyer named Crocodotem to watch her. Why? She's a dipso. She must have some faults. Odom suspects her husband. He was in uniform, and now that he's back, Odom figures he's a fraud out for the girl's money. Can't the girl tell the difference? She's not sure. I don't think she was observant. Now, look, this is a big story, Jaco. I can't fill in all the holes. You've got to help me. I want you to check on Crocodotem, will you? I need some money. Oh, you'll booze it away. Now hurry, Jaco. If you need money, get a job. Why can't you go to work, Patsy? I'm a victim of my own conscience. I'm stuck with the dilemma. I'm willing to go to work, but I work too cheaply. And on the other hand, I'll not support slave labor. So it's morally impossible for me to go to work. Good night, lover. I left Jaco, and the two beatings began to catch up with me. I had enough headache to pass out to a Bay Meadows crowd on a bad day. The tale behind me began to look tired, so I dropped by headquarters to give him a rest. I asked for the head of homicide, but the desk told me that Helman was on his honeymoon, and they kind of laughed when they said it, as if they thought he got the girl there on a bench warrant. All I'd done at headquarters was identify the dead woman. Her name was Emily Van Kirk, and she had no record. I dropped by the hotel, and the first break showed down there. The desk clerk knew about Emily Van Kirk. He'd mixed the rooms up, and he'd put Wendy in the wrong one. That meant that maybe she was at the hotel after all. It also meant that Emily was in the clear. She was just a girl on her way to Seattle, and she got a longer ride than she paid for. I called Wendy's, but I couldn't get an answer, so I dropped by my place to wait for Jaco. Stanley Morris was there, chewing his fingernails, and when I walked in, he was up to the wristwatch. Mr. Novak, where's my wife? You're hiding her. He's good enough to hide, but this isn't the night. Oh, where is she? She must have gone to you after that hotel. How do you know she was there? Did you drop by too? Doesn't make any difference. Well, that makes a big difference to me. We're all out of phones. Now tell me about that hotel. Crockett Odom told me to come there. Why? I don't know. I was supposed to be there at 10.30. It was some kind of a crazy scheme. Was a dead girl mixed up in one? Sorry, it wasn't Wendy. Odom tried to break up this marriage. I wish he had. You sound feeble, mister. You don't know her the way I do. She's a cold-blooded animal. The only cold-blooded animal that doesn't bear fur. They're building a case. I don't know what have her around. I suppose you would. She has a certain localized beauty you'd go for, but nobody else would have her. They'd find out what she is, a puff-adder with a good figure. Yeah, wait a minute. We've got company. Somebody's coming in the door. Watch it. There goes the light. Alright, stand back. Couldn't have died any faster with a priority. I got to the door and threw on the light switch, but whoever it was had gone and the hall was dark. When I got back to Stan, he was lying there like a well-trained sponge. He wasn't a good enough guy to bleed in the living room, so I dragged him into the kitchen and left with the back way. I had to get word to Jaco, so I left a message at his place telling him to get in touch with me at Wendy's. I went up there to sit on her doorstep and wait if it took all night. I wasn't going to freeze, though, because she opened the door as soon as I knocked. She was still wearing that crepe gown, and she was yawning and stretching her arms. Oh, you might not want to bring her home to mother, but you'd want to start, anyway. Do you always look at women this way, Patsy? I feel like ease. And I'll bet you get a kitchen full of apples. Do I argue or come in? You may argue, but do it in here. Yeah. When'd you get back? Why? Somebody just killed Stan. If you're sure, the drinks are on me. He didn't like you, either. We'd be even if he had anything to start with. Don't ever marry, Patsy. Now, look, lady, I'm nursing a murderer, and I need some answers. Would Stan a phony? He's the same guy I married, if that's what you mean. You weren't sure four hours ago? I wanted an answer then. What kind? You're too far ahead, Patsy. Get into a trot and have a drink. Lady, has anybody ever told you about a slow burn? I got one now. I'll bet you have, darling. Oh, this room isn't big enough for games, baby. Give me a Patsy. Go find a guy with a bag of wild oats. Stop shadowboxing, dad. All right, baby. That's what makes the poor so heavy. They don't have phones. Yeah. Patsy, this is Jocko. Where'd you find out? Crocket Odom is in love with Wendy Morris. Does it go both ways? Well, different rate of exchange. I got something else, too. A will is a big temptation. Go ahead. If she bows out, all the dough goes to her husband. Maybe the guy is a fraud. Oh, he's going to have it straightened out. What else? The funny part of the will. If they're both dead, all the dough goes to Crocket Odom. You better see him in a hurry. Well, that doesn't make sense. If he killed her and got all that dough, it'd cost him that much to get another liker. Maybe not. Oh, you haven't seen her, Jocko. He wouldn't pass that up. She's nice and speedy. Oh, I can explain that. When you're over 50, you don't mind the speed. It's the freewheeling you hate to think about. There are seats. That story of stance finally made sense. There was only one reason why it could have been called there at 10.30. And for the first time, I tumbled why Craig had let me go back in that hotel room. Everything was right in place, like a mixed master in a bride's kitchen. I dropped my headquarters and left a note. And then the girl and I ran into Craig down at the desk. I briefed him on what had happened, and we rode up to Crocket Odom's apartment. When we got to the living room, things turned stormy. Hello, Novak. It's too late to start a party. No, you're going to like this one, Odom. That's right, darling. You'll love it. This is Craig from Homicide. He wants you for murder. It doesn't sound right, Craig. Novak's calling it. See him. I talked to Stan before he died. He tipped your mitt, Crocket. He couldn't tip a water glass. He was smart enough to know you sent for him. That's why he didn't show at 10.30. You better have it in writing. No, I don't need it that way. Craig, he won't let you out that easy. What's he talking about, Craig? Homicide will shake him down too fast. You're with a walking dead now, Craig. I left a note. They know you killed the girl. Are you crazy, Craig, to come up here? I can't argue now. He's too lucky, Odom. I got all sevens tonight, Craig. Crocket Odom sold you bad goods. He did everything wrong. Thanks, Odom. I'm going to leave you. But don't let the bag get too heavy. Now, wait a minute, Craig. You're not going to let me hang for this. You won't. They burn in this state. Stay away from that door, Craig. Sorry, Odom. You dealt me in, but I got bad cards. I want to see you play them alone. I'll make a try. Hang on to your skin. Your hand, Novak. Yeah, anything to help you die. Here. How's Odom? He'll keep. Yeah. I'm sorry, Novak. What to do wrong? Everything. But mostly when you let me go up in that hotel room. Yeah. I should have pinched you then. I'm a tender-hearted guy. You're a bum, Craig. I can move you down a step lower even. You're a liar. I checked. You're not working for the city. They never heard of you downtown. I'm not going to make it, Novak. Lay my head down. Yeah. I'll put it down easy. Goodbye, Craig. I hope you have a long night. They patched up Odom and got most of the story out of him. Jaco was right. Odom got tired of chasing the girl and went after the money instead. He drummed up that Coney story to plant a reason for a quarrel and then he tried to pay it off in that hotel room. He offered a cut to Craig for the heavy duty work. Wendy was supposed to show up at 10.15. Craig had killed her and wait. When Stan showed up at 10.30, Craig was supposed to stage a fight and kill him. That way he'd be in the clear and so would Odom. They'd say it was a husband and wife quarrel and Craig had a phony shield to back him up. Craig dreamed up that story about being a cop. But the whole scheme went haywire when the desk clerk mixed up the rooms. Craig killed the wrong woman and Stan got there late. That's why he got scared when it turned out to be somebody else, so he let me go. Odom was afraid that Stan had showed up and knew the story, so he had a ticket right away. The guy who told me was handy for that. When did I first tumble to something wrong? When I was sure that Crockett Odom had told a lie. He said the girl was a dipso, but when I got there, she was drinking soda with her whiskey. And a good dipso won't waste that much time. Well, it worked out all right. Hellman was on his honeymoon, so he didn't have any questions. Well, but his wife did.