George Stroud is a hard-drinking, tough-talking, none-too-scrupulous
writer for a New York media conglomerate that bears a striking
resemblance to Time, Inc. in the heyday of Henry Luce. One day, before
heading home to his wife in the suburbs, Stroud has a drink with
Pauline, the beautiful girlfriend of his boss, Earl Janoth. Things
happen. The next day, Stroud escorts Pauline home, leaving her off at
the corner just as Janoth returns from a trip. The day after that,
Pauline is found murdered in her apartment.
Janoth knows there was one witness to his entry into Pauline's apartment
on the night of the murder; he knows that man must have been the man
Pauline was with before he got back; but he doesn't know who he was.
Janoth badly wants to get his hands on that man, and he picks one of his
most trusted employees to track him down: George Stroud. Who else?
How does a man escape from himself? No book has ever dramatized that
question to more perfect effect than The Big Clock, a masterpiece of
American noir.