House Dick

I picked this up at Border's mainly because I noticed that E. Howard Hunt, one of the Watergate conspirators, was the author. This was fun to read, and there were some passages that I think suggested real talent or at least potential, but overall it isn't exactly memorable literature. A jaded and cynical hotel detective becomes involved in a murder that took place in one of the rooms, and has to deal with a variety of colorful characters. The depiction of seedy Washington sometime after WWII is also nice. The least interesting character is probably the femme fatale in which he becomes romantically involved. The other characters are generally realized much more nicely.

Hands down, the most fascinating Gold Medal author? E. Howard Hunt - who lived a life as exciting as any of his detective heroes. Hunt worked for the CIA and then for President Nixon. Alongside the notorious G. Gordon Liddy, Hunt was one of the President's "plumbers" - private operatives to Nixon, out to fix 'leaks'. Hunt was one of the figures behind the Watergate scandal, serving almost three years in prison for his role in wiretapping the hotel room. Hunt published under a half-dozen pseudonyms as well as his own name. As well as the expected, 'I was an inside man' sort of memoirs, he wrote some marginally-memorable detective fiction - mostly lackluster political thrillers. Oddly, his standout book is a conventional P.I. piece, House Dick (happily back in print from Hard Case crime). So noir it is practically a pastiche, House Dick features a hard-drinking, womanizing hotel detective, caught in the center of a whirlwind of adultery, violence and theft. It is an absolute blast and a pulp classic.

This is a lovely little confection by Watergate's own, E. Howard Hunt. There's even a jacket blurb from Richard Nixon. Welcome to the world of Pete Novak, house detective for an upscale property on 17th Street in D.C., a place Hunt knows well. That world is filled with a pulp cast of characters: the femme fatale, her jailbird husband and his muscle men, a syndicate out-of-towner with a long gun and a steady finger, a rich woman and her cheating husband and an 'herb doctor' who peddles mescaline to the wealthy when he's not trying to ditch his wife. There's also the faithful girl Friday, an annoying assistant manager, a perky bellhop, tried-and-true doorman and a waitress with a taste for bourbon. Mix them together, toss in 90 grand worth of jewelry and the magic happens. The setting is excellent, the characters predictable (but predictably delicious), the plot workmanlike and logical, the ending sweet and sad. This was my first Hunt novel; I want more.

Fortunately, Howard Hunt's name on the cover is not the only interesting thing about this month's Hard Case Crime release. Actually "House Dick" comes out at a great time for all things Watergate, being released right on the heels of the movie version of Frost/Nixon [Blu-ray], and only half a year after the "Election Year" DVD re-release of Nixon [Blu-ray], in which Hunt was played by Ed Harris. The back cover blurb to "House" opens with a quote from President Nixon taken from the "smoking gun" June 23, 1972 White House recording, and then points out the obvious Watergate parallel: "one of Hunt's very best, a classic hardboiled story of a detective in a Washington D.C. hotel (no, not THAT hotel)". The book itself is expertly plotted. Hunt's lead character is Pete Novak, a cynical hotel detective who, within the span of a few hours, stumbles upon all the elements of a classic double (or even triple-) cross. There are missing jewels, a dead body, a phony doctor, an estranged couple possibly running the badger game, and -- wait for it! -- another dead body. And all this just on the fifth floor of a smallish K Street hotel. Novak plays off the local homicide cop against each of the murder suspects, while shamelessly tampering with the murder scene(s) and trying to avoid falling in love with one of those suspects. With so many balls in the air and a slim 198-page count, it's amazing that Novak has time to either buy a drink or light up a smoke on nearly every page. And yet, he does. Hunt published this under a pseudonym but presumably wrote it during his tenure with the CIA. He clearly has an insider's feel for D.C., knowing his away around lock-picking and secret hotel entries (one suspects Charles Colson read this book when it first came out and filed Hunt's name away for future reference). Hunt even manages to successfully predict that Frank Howard will one day play baseball for the Washington Senators. Many thanks to Hard Case for bringing this back into print, and at such a good time, too.