six P.M.
So I put in for the radio car . It meant taking the night shift , but I got it . I suppose the front office got their money 's worth , because they played up every lousy auto smash the radio car covered as though it were the story of the Second Coming , and maybe it helped circulation . But I had been on it for four months and , would n't you know it , there was n't a decent murder , or sewer explosion , or running gun fight between six P.M. and six A.M. any night I was on duty in those whole four months . What made it worse , the kid they gave me as photographer -- Sol Detweiler , his name was -- could n't drive worth a damn , so I was stuck with chauffeuring us around . We had just been out to LaGuardia to see if it was true that Marilyn Monroe was sneaking into town with Aly Khan on a night plane -- it was n't -- and we were coming across the Triborough Bridge , heading south toward the East River Drive , when the office called . I pulled over and parked and answered the radiophone .