 Ladies and gentlemen, the American Broadcasting Company brings to its entire network one of radio's most unusual programs. Pat Novak for hire. I'm Pat Novak for hire. That's what the sign on in front of my shop says, Pat Novak for hire. Down here in the San Francisco waterfront, it's got to be that way. You got to rob a few graves if you want cigarette money. You need lots of work and roomy sleeves if you're going to play a pat hand. Sometimes in a good week, you can duck trouble three or four days in a row. And then it creeps up on you like an old charge account. Well, I should have known that when I went to the bank. I was up to my knees in mud and didn't even know it was rainy season. It was Tuesday and I went by the bank to then drop a hundred bucks. It was about time because they were beginning to play handball with my checks. Must have been about eleven o'clock when I got to the window. Hello, Mr. Novak. Isn't it a grand morning? If it's your choice, stay with it. Ah, yes. Deposit a hundred bucks. Yes. Let me get your car. It's right here, I think. Yes. Here we are. All right. A hundred bucks. Give me a duplicate, will you? Certainly. Why? This isn't as big as the last deposit. Look, Bloomer girl, just mark the slip, huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Novak. I guess I'm not used to thousand dollar deposits. What thousand dollars? Your Friday deposit. I wasn't in here Friday. Oh, you must have been. The card says you put in a thousand dollars on Friday. Give me that card. What did Santa look like? What? Who put the dough in? What did the guy look like? Oh, didn't you? No, look, we'll double back and try to hang on this time, will you? I wasn't in here Friday. I don't know anything about an extra grand. What did the guy look like? I wasn't on duty Friday. Yeah. I'm not even sure about the fellow today. What fellow? There was a man in here to ask about the account. Did this good fairy have a name? No, just credentials. He was from the FBI. I see. Is there anything wrong, Mr. Novak? No, don't mind that complexion. I forgot my foundation cream. Oh, I should have known right then. A mysterious grand tossed into the till. I didn't wake up to trouble. But I'm a smart boy who'd be the village idiot in the town the size of New York. Well, I left the bank and went up to my apartment. That thousand bucks was already drawing interest. When I came in, she was sitting on the couch drinking my whiskey. She could have all she wanted. A 1949 Panther model. Pissed the right amount of size 12 in a dress that looked like a well-tailored fig leaf. When she was through looking you over, you felt like a Sunday supplement. Hello, Mr. Novak. I like your apartment. That's good. The view is wonderful. So is yours. What's on your mind? How about a drink? All right. I'll pour you talk. My name is Connie Riley. Make me one, too. Sure. As you were saying. My name is Connie Riley. Yeah, well, I've memorized that much. Go on. There's your drink. Thanks. I'll sit down. All right. Over next to me. I won't buy it. That's too bad. Go on. Well, here's to your new bank account, Patsy. Look, sis, if you're here just for the field trials, all right. But if you've got a bill of goods, try it out. I will. I want that card, too, Patsy. I want it ahead of Chris. I'll catch up with another drink in the meantime. You fill in and help me, will you? Stop sitting on your hands, Angel. You didn't get that thousand bucks for the sweat of your bra? Not yet. Somebody padded your account so you'd be a nice boy. I want you to be a nice boy for me. At the same rates? The Monterey Rose Docks today. A passenger named Kirk Tooney is carrying a jack of clubs, and it means a lot to me. Well, it doesn't mean a thing to me except the FBI is on my tail. Mr. Novak, you're turning a momentary advantage into a crowbar. You take your deal to some other brover. You're in business whether you like it or not, Patsy. You're gonna stub your toe either way only. For me, it'll be more fun. How about the FBI? They're being frightened by a group of bureaucrats. That's what Trotsky thought. How much, Patsy? How much for that card when you get it? The price is a grand. You're an amusing guy, Patsy. Yeah, a grand I can afford to be. You don't even know what the jack of clubs is all about. You never heard of Kirk Tooney till five minutes ago, but you take things in stride as if the whole world belonged to you. You're like Adam when he first spotted the garden of Eden. All right, little Eve, it's a thousand bucks. Remember, you're sitting on my doorstep. Now either go on home or come in the house. Good. I'll take the card. It's your price. Now, I can relax. I'll bet you can. Pour me another drink, Patsy. Yeah, sure. In a minute. What comes next? Can I get three kisses? You've got time to take them. I won't need them all. What's up to you? Come here, Ansel. Have you ever heard of the early bird? Yeah. Do I make a nice worm? You're a wriggle-like one. Aren't you raising the price a little, Mr. Novak? Straight 18%, darling. That's too bad. I wasn't even going to scream. The next place I live is going to be a cave. Just a minute, will you? Hello, Novak. Oh, Helman. Well, am I interrupting anything? No, we were just going over an old seed catalog. Miss Raleigh, this is Inspector Helman, San Francisco police. Good morning, Inspector. Don't bother to arrest me now. I'm just leaving. So soon? My sentiment's exactly, Inspector. Bye-bye, Patsy. You can get me at the Concert on Push-Seek. See you around, Patsy. Sure. You're slipping, Novak. No rain check. All right, funny man. What's your problem? You. You ever see this guy before? Let me see. He's an awful-looking thug. Yeah. Who is he, your father? A guy by the name of Max Coleman. The FBI trailed him to your bank Friday. They think he gave you a thousand bucks. Yeah. Where'd you get the thousand bucks, Novak? What do you care, Helman? Maybe you're relative. Maybe a maiden aunt. Nobody's related to you, Novak. You're in a jam, lover, and I'm here to push your father in. Max Coleman buys his groceries with foreign dough. What are you weeping about? Arrest the guy if you don't like him. There's government microfilm coming in on the Monterey Rose. That thousand bucks makes you a contact man for Coleman. Send the FBI over then. Where do you fit in, waiting for somebody to drop some loose change? You are my project, Novak. When they ask us for help, I stuff the ballot box to get you. So relax. I'm going to spend the rest of the day here. You're not going to leave the living room. If I could spend the day with you, I'll take knockout drops. Suit yourself. What's this stuff? That's good, Scott. You wouldn't know. That's the kitchen closet. That's for you. All right. Over by the stove, Jim? That's right. What are you keeping here, Novak? Mops and brooms. Where'd you buy this one? What are you talking about? Where'd you buy this one, smart man? It was right. I could tell right away it wasn't a mop. When Helman pushed him out of here, he rolled out on a little anoleum. A dapper little guy, except for a piece of cord around his throat, tied in a funny knot. It was deader than a broken drum. Somebody pulled too hard on that piece of cord. The veins were standing out in his forehead, and his face looked like a roadmap lying there on the floor. It wasn't pretty. Helman thought so, too. Who is he, Novak? Your father? I've never seen him in my closet before. Who is he, Novak? I don't know, Helman. Finders keepers. You roll him. Give me a hand. There's nothing there. Why is this wallet? You'll get there by instinct. Yeah, yeah, here it is. His name is Kirk Toomey. That helps. Who is he? The guy on the Monterey Rose. The one with the microfilm? I guess so. I thought you didn't know anything about it. How'd you know I came from the Monterey Rose? My dream book, Helman. What happens now? Nothing. Except I'm on the case now, and you got trouble in a major key. You don't think I killed this guy? I don't know, did you? You better hop out and tell that girl she was making herself at home when I got here. Yeah? How do I know you're not in it together? You don't copper. Maybe she's Loeb and I'm Leopold. When you're through with her, you might hit the Monterey and start looking for a jack of clubs. Some more dream book, Novak? Everybody's looking for a jack of clubs, Helman. It must be the end of the rainbow. That's where you're going to find that microfilm. In the meantime, you stay handy, Novak. I want to split you with the FBI. You don't think I'm going to take the rap for Junior here, do you? It says that in my book. Just relax until I'm ready to pick you up. I only have to find a couple of things. Well, that'll be a long time, Helman. You can't find your hip pocket with radar. I'll be around soon, Novak. Don't bother to pack your bags. You'll be traveling life. Well, when Helman left, I knew I was a second division club. That phony plan in the bank, the tie-up with Max Coleman, and that stiff in the kitchen made me look real bad. I had to do something in a hurry because the way things stood, I had about as much chance as a lawn party in a monsoon. There were a lot of bases to tag, so I looked up Jaco Madigan, an ex-doctor who invented the hangover. What a good guy. I finally found him over in North Beach at a little joint called Lupo's. He was eating pizza with one hand and strangling a bottle of wine with the other. Hello, Patsy. Oh, Frank. A bottle of wine for Mr Novak. No, I'm short on time, Jaco. That's where you're wrong, Patsy. People always say it, but it's a lie. Would you calm down a minute? You say you're short on time, but you have all the time there is. It's the one thing that keeps you from being a beggar. There are only 24 hours in a day, and that gives you as much time as Napoleon or Alexander had. Would you shut up a minute and put on that wine? I'm celebrating Patsy. I'm celebrating Mission Day. Mission Day's over. I'm a native son. We celebrate longer. Oh, look. I'm behind the eight ball again. Isn't it getting kind of crowded back there? What's the matter? Somebody strangled a guy and put him in my broom closet. When did you find him? I didn't. Hellman did. There's a girl named Connie Riley looks good for the job. Why doesn't Hellman book her then? He's still picking up the pieces. The dead guy is Kirk Toomey. He was set to smuggle in some microfilm that says, here, I'm contact. You've got to help me, Jaco. You've got me confused with the travel agency. I want you to hop down to headquarters. Get all the dope you can on this guy, Toomey. I'm going to look up Connie Riley. How did she get in the picture? What difference does it make? She's a wrestler I met this morning. Now get on to headquarters, will you? That's why I like you, Patch. You're like a piece of blank verse, a bad piece of blank verse. All right, Jaco. I'm going to make like a strip of bacon if I don't get going. Now stay close to headquarters. If anything looks good, contact me at Connie Riley's here at this address. All right. How many times shall I knock, lover? I left Jaco and dropped by the apartment. I was smart and full of courage, like a field mouse at bay. The police had already been there. It was fingerprint powder all over them. The two bottles of whiskey were going. They'd moved laughing boy out of the kitchen. So I sat down trying to add things up. I had a short list of friends to see. Connie, Max Coleman and whoever this guy, Chris, was. I had to show up with one of them or prove that Kurt Toomey hung himself in my closet. I was getting ready to borrow a piece of cord myself on the phone rang. Yeah. Hello, no, Max. This is Hellman. I'm thrilled. What's on your mind? I just called on your girlfriend. What'd she say? Nothing. She wasn't there. Hasn't been there since 10 o'clock this morning. That's funny. Yeah. How would I know? Toomey's stuff on the Monterey Rose. Yeah. What'd you find? Pack of cards. Well, do you know where to go from there, Hellman? I thought I did. Grab that, Jaco Clubs. Will it tenor hearts do? Huh? That's right, Novak. A nice, fat deck. The Jaco Clubs is missing. Oh, you're always too little, too late, Hellman. I just thought I'd let you know, friend, in case you start a bridge game with 53 cards in the deck. Good night. Losing money fast like a street carnival in Death Valley. Well, one of two things happened. Somebody got on that boat and took the Jaco Clubs while Toomey was at my apartment. Maybe he brought it with him. If he brought it with him, Connie was a possibility. Or somebody that got there ahead of Connie. Well, anyway, I had to work fast now because whoever had that card wasn't going to put it on a market street float. About ten minutes later, I cut across Union Square and up Bush Street. When I got to Connie's apartment, it was about ten o'clock. I got in the back door and started through. She wasn't there, so I went to work looking for that Jaco Clubs. It was real easy. I tried the desk and then her bureau drawer. You know, I'd like chiffons coming back in style but that's where I found the card. They look nice nestling there. I put it in my pocket and that's as far as I got. You run the lingerie counter here, Nova? You sound like a guy named Chris. If it makes you feel better. Should we put on the light? No, no. Let's don't put on the light. This gun might upset you. The police are looking for you, Chris. You need more than the dark. I understand they're looking for you, Nova. That Riley girl kind of put you on a spot. You know what I'll do, though? Yeah. You'll give me a thousand dollars for the Jaco Clubs. I started to say five hundred. Around here that's a whisper. An even grand, mister. You're trying to collect too many places. Want the five hundred? No, I don't. All right. But I think you're a bum business, man. Jaco found me catnapping on Connie's bare rug. Must have been right after the sapping. When I woke up, Jaco was thumbing my head like a housewife with a bowl of margarine. I fell around and waited for him to put the floor in again. I reached in my pocket. The Jaco Clubs was gone. Then I started to talk. Oh, Jaco. Did you expect someone better? Help me up, will you? I've helped you get up so much I feel like one of the right brothers. I just lost round three. Yeah, I saw him getting into the car. Did you get a number? Like Hellman's got yours. Here it is. Let me see. Anything break down at homicide? They got all the dope onto me. They had to piece it together. He had no fingerprint record and they finally confirmed things with a set of false teeth. What does it prove? Nothing much except you probably killed him. He's a foreign agent who picked up microfilm at Shanghai. Your girlfriend is pretty. Did they find her? Yeah. Dead? No. Patsy, you've got to stop thinking of people who's being dead all the time. It's demoralizing. What'd she say? She denied knowing anything about to me. Jaco, I'm sure she killed that guy up in my apartment. I'd stake my life on it. Expertly put, Patsy. I think Hellman believes her. She's the only lead. What about Max Coleman, the guy that rigged my bank account? Are they letting him die on the vine? I was getting to that. Your friend Max Coleman has disappeared. I thought he was being tailed. The kite got away. Here, use my aspirin. Well, I took a boat out to the Monterey Rose. But that was a waste of time. Hellman had it covered like a tarpaulin. I still had the license number to Chris's car, but I didn't do any good. Even if I found him, all I could do was point my finger. There were still a lot of things that didn't fall into place. One of them was, how come that jacket clubs were so easy to find in Connie's apartment? She hadn't hit it very well. But after all, maybe that was a habit with her. Things didn't look any better the next morning. I went into a restaurant next to the press club for some breakfast. The Chronicle was lying on the counter. We were in second place because it was a torso murder all over page one. That second cup of coffee saved me. Because right after that, I spotted it on one of the back pages. A picture and a small story about some unidentified guy who'd been killed over in Oakland. I couldn't match the picture too well with Hellman's snapshot of Max Coleman, but it looked like my best break so far. I got over to Oakland and I went straight to the morgue. The guy in the morgue was Chattie. Which fellow you want to see? The unidentified guy who must have come in last night. Sure. Down this way. Okay. How do you like our morgue? One of my favorites. It's bigger than San Francisco. Yeah, I figured that. Sure. Most people don't know that, but it's true bigger than San Francisco. Here we are. Right here. Help me slide it off. Sure. Roller bearings makes it a lot easier. Yeah. Here, let me get that sheet. All right. Well, well. Recognize him? Yeah. What time did he die? Coroner's report here on the toe tag about 11 o'clock last night. Two gunshots. 38 caliber pistol. That's good. Don't look good to me. Was he a friend of yours? Relative or something? Yeah, a relative. He's my maiden aunt. It was Max Coleman, all right, but that was only half the problem. I had some of the answers, but not enough. It's like trying to weave a rug with a spinning wheel and a bucket of sand. Well, anyway, I got to a pay phone and I called Jaco. I told him to run down that license number, and I headed back across the bridge. When I found Jaco, he said the car was registered in the name of Christopher Downs, who lived up on Taylor Street. And that was enough of a lead, so I telephoned Helman. Took about a half a minute to draw a map. Hello? Helman talking. There's Novak. You still got Connie Riley down there? No. When did she leave? Last night, about 9.30. Well, that was smart, Helman. Why? You better put a guard on her front door and get up to 720 Taylor Street, or Downs. A late entry. Now climb out of that coalman and get going. I'll meet you up there in 10 minutes. 720 Taylor Street? Yeah, it's up on the hill. That's good, Novak. I can roll. When Jaco and I got up to Downs' apartment, there was nobody home. I said a fast prayer for Connie, and I began going through Down's stuff for a .38 caliber revolver. Jaco was looking too, over in the liquor cabinet. That's as far as we got. Scavenger hunt, Mr. Novak? Hello, Chris. You haven't seen a .38 or on? Just one that's in my pocket. Have you killed Max Coleman? You're going to run out of breath. Novak, slow down. I'm in second already, Mr. I can't stop. Then you won't mind a short ride out the door and down the back stairs. Should we bring a lap robe? There's nothing to worry about. It's a short trip. You won't even have to worry about the folks. We went down the back way and into the garage next door. We started for a big car in the corner. All right. Get in. Out the airport road, Joe. Sure. Now relax, Novak. From here, you look like a duck in the pond. All right, Joe. Watch out, Joe. Joe! Watch out! There's another car coming in. You're right, Chris. It was a short ride. You all right, Novak? Stop acting like a mother hen, Hellman. Take this guy's gun. All right, Mr. Get out. Who is he? Christopher Downs. He killed Max Coleman last night. Does he convince you, Mr.? Not entirely. Well, at .38 will, the Oakland police have two slugs that fit that gun. You need more? No. I'm afraid you've got all the Trumps, Novak. All right, let's go, you. Let's see you earn that copper. Stop him, Novak! He ain't going far. Well, Hellman, now you can arrest him for jaywalking. Yeah. It's too bad. He could have told you a lot about that stuff in my closet. Well, go pick him up, Hellman. Don't forget the jack of clubs in his pocket. It worked out all right. I left Hellman, dropped by headquarters to leave a note, and I went home to my apartment. Connie was there. The whiskey was out again. She looked real good sitting there in a white crepe dress. It was one of those tight-fitting babies that make a bathing suit look like a toga. I told her all about Chris and Max Coleman. And we forgot about everything but the Olympics. When she put her arms around you, it was a real squeeze. It felt like an old tube of shaving cream. I was pouring a drink from the doorbell ring. Hello, Hellman. You ready, Novak? Sure. Well, don't stand there gaping, arrest her for murder. Wait a minute. Slow down, Patsy. Sorry, Chum, it's you or me. Now, be a nice boy. I am. That's why you go to Hellman. Come on, lady. You dig up an answer for that guy that you left in my closet? I didn't leave any guy in your closet. Louder, baby. They found the store. You bought the cord. That cord came out of your kitchen. You're a big mouth cunt. Yeah. You can put that in both ways. How did you know? You're the only one that could have taken that jacket clubs here in the apartment. That and one other thing. Yeah? That knot in the cord was a funny knot. You got an elastic garter there. It's too big, so you tied it on in it. The same funny knot that choked Kirk Toomey. You're a funny guy, Novak. Yeah? You're nice, but you're hard to handle. I should have killed you or married you. Ready, Hellman? Well, a jacket club is a phony right from the start. I told Kirk Toomey to deal with me. When he came to my apartment, Connie was waiting. She got jumpy and killed him. I got there too soon, so she had to stall me off. When she got home, she found out that the jacket clubs was a phony. She left it in plain sight, and Chris gobbled up the bait. When he discovered there was no microfilm, he went gunning for Max Coleman. Max was an innocent thief lying low, waiting to buy it from me. So all three of them were after a phony card. I began to suspect it was phony because everybody hung around. If it was the McCoy, Connie would have cleared out. Same for Chris. The microfilm? Well, it was in Hellman's desk, but he didn't know it. Jaco finally tumbled. The report said that Kirk Toomey had false teeth. When Hellman picked up his stuff on the ship, it was a tuba toothpaste. You know, clean false teeth with toothpaste. Word must have gotten around that the microfilm was inside that jacket club, so Kirk crossed them up and put it in a tuba toothpaste. Well, that's all, except they cancelled my $1,000 deposit. Hellman said it was lucky I noticed her garter. Lucky? Well, she had to straighten her seams, didn't she? The American Broadcasting Company has just brought you the second of a new series, Pat Novak for Hire, starring Jack Webb. Jaco Madigan is played by Tudor Owen. Inspector Hellman is played by Raymond Burr. Music was composed and conducted by Radio & Television Life Award winner Basil Adlam. In our cast were Betty Lou Gerson, Victor Perrin, Ted DeCorsia, and Herb Butterfield. Today we're happy to welcome a new member of the ABC family, as Station K-A-R-M in Fresno, California joins our network. And now this is George Feldman reminding you to be with us again next week when over most of these same ABC stations we'll bring you Pat Novak or Hire. This program came to you from Hollywood.