Pat Novak Says...

"Sure, I'm Pat Novak. For hire. That's what the sign out in front of my office says: Pat Novak, For Hire. Down on the waterfront in San Francisco, you don't get prizes for being subtle. You want to make a living down here, you've got to get your hand in the till any way you can. You rob Peter to pay Paul, and then you put it on the cuff. Oh, I rent boats, tell a few white lies, if the price is right. It's a happy life, if you don't mind looking up at a headstone, because sooner or later, you draw trouble a size too big.

"I found that out Tuesday night. It was raining, and the street was as deserted as a warm bottle of beer. Must have been about 11 o'clock when I came out of the office and started down the waterfront. As I got near the corner, I stopped. An old man stepped out of the darkness and started across the street. It was a short trip, because a car started up down the street, and the old man couldn't have made it with a pocketful of aces. I started over to him. The car slowed down for a minute, and then turned the corner and disappeared. As it passed under the streetlight, I caught a glimpse of the license plate in a dull, surprised way, the way you grab a feather out of an angel's wing. I bent over the old man and rolled him on his back. He didn't seem to be in pain. He was just an old man with the frightened look of a small boy in a storm. He was breathing hard as I cushioned his head."

- Pat Novak for Hire, May 21, 1949 - "Envelope for John St. John"