The Lock and the Key

Chapter Ten

When the Hollywood-Highland bank was opened the next morning at ten o’clock, Tommy Dancer was one of the first people to enter. Only a few feet behind him was Willis Trent. Each was aware of the other, yet neither showed any signs of recognition. Trent went to one of the writing stands and filled out a deposit slip, while Tommy Dancer went to the Safety Deposit window and signed his name and the box number on one of the little slips. Then he noticed something that he had not been aware of the day before.

The woman behind the counter took his slip and put it in a little machine that stamped the time of the day. Tommy frowned uneasily when he noticed that. He went into the Safety Deposit vault. As he stepped through the door, he looked over his shoulder and saw Willis Trent at the Safety Deposit window. Box 365 was opened and the attendant, nodding, left the vault. Although he was as taut as a tightly wound steel spring, Tommy Dancer went about his little job seemingly oblivious of his surroundings. He took an envelope out of his pocket and removed two prepared key blanks. One he inserted in the lower lock of Box 294, the other he inserted perfunctorily in the upper lock. He already had a key that fitted this lock perfectly but the second blank was for emergency purposes. Finished with the keys, he dropped them carefully into the white envelope and returned it to his pocket. Then he closed his own safety deposit box and left the vault.

It was nice timing. Just as he stepped through the door, the attendant approached with Willis Trent in tow. Tommy had to step sidewards so that they could pass him in the narrow doorway.

Tommy went through the bank to the sidewalk and started for McCadden. As he turned into the side street he looked over his shoulder and swore roundly when he saw the swarthy man, who’d been shadowing him the day before, close on his heels. He continued on to the parking lot, got his car and drove to Melrose Avenue.

He was late again this morning. But, since he was now a partner instead of a mere employee, George Roan did not remark on it. He greeted Tommy cheerfully, “Good morning, partner.”

Tommy forced a grin. “Good morning.”

“How’d you like to run over to the Hadley people with me, this morning, Tommy?” Mr. Roan asked. “There’s a lot of figuring to be done and you’ve always been pretty good at that.”

Tommy shook his head. “Somebody ought to stay in the shop. Besides, you’ve dealt with them so far and it’s just as well you continue.”

“Maybe you’re right. I guess I might as well run over there now.”

Mr. Roan left the shop inside of five minutes. Tommy took out the envelope containing the smoked key blanks from his pocket, and went to work. He had hardly started, however, when the phone rang.

It was Willis Trent. “Get them all right, Tommy?”

“Of course, but one of them got a little rubbed.”

“You won’t have to take another impression?” Trent exclaimed.

“No, I don’t think so. I can correct it when I go back for the fitting.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll get a chance to work on the keys this morning?”

Tommy looked toward the window of the shop. Undoubtedly the shadow was parked across the street and had made note of the absence of George Roan. Tommy said into the phone: “Matter of fact, I just started on them. The boss left the shop and I’ll be alone until noon.” Then he grimaced, as Trent cut in, “I’ll run over.” He hung up before Tommy could protest.

Angrily, Tommy slammed the receiver on the hook, then stepped to his work bench and began filing furiously at the key blank he had put in the vise. He finished it, got a duplicate key blank and filed it down to match the first. He dropped the second key in a drawer then put the other smoked blank in the vise and began working slowly on it. He was still at it when the door opened and Willis Trent entered.

“How’s it coming?” Trent asked eagerly.

Tommy handed Trent the finished key. “Here’s one and in a minute I’ll have the other.”

Trent examined the key admiringly. “Damned if I see how you do it!”

Tommy gave the key in the vise two or three light strokes of the file and threw down the file.

“Do you think they’ll work?” Trent asked.

Tommy shrugged. “This second one got a little blurred. But I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the first one fits just as it is, maybe just a little touch or two here and there.”

Trent drew a deep breath. “I don’t see how I can stand the wait.”

Tommy said, “Well, shall we run back to the bank now and check on them?”

Trent shuddered. “I lost two years of my life this morning!”

Tommy studied Trent closely. It was true, the bookmaker looked a little pale even now. “Tomorrow?”

“Not me. I’ll go back to the bank with you on Monday. But I don’t think the two of us ought to follow each other like that more than once more.”

“What about Faraday?”

“He hasn’t got a box at the bank.”

“What about Herbie the Lugan or—” Tommy nodded toward the window — “your man across the street. They don’t have to have boxes. They can just stop at the window and make an inquiry or something.”

“No.” Trent was positive about that. “Three people’s enough in this.”

“You mean they don’t know about this?”

“You take me for a fool.” Trent made an impatient gesture. “All right, Louie’s following you. He thinks you welshed on a bet and I want you kept in sight. Come up to the apartment this evening.”

Trent started to turn away, the two keys still in his hand. Tommy reached out for them, but Trent, smiling thinly, dropped the keys in his coat pocket.

Tommy exclaimed, “What’s the idea?”

“I’ll keep them until morning.”

“But I’ve got to smoke them up again before I go to the bank.”

“I’ll meet you at a quarter of ten at Las Palmas and Yucca. You can smoke them up then.”

“You really don’t trust anyone, do you?”

“For ten bucks, yes. Maybe even for a hundred, but not for a hundred thousand, or two hundred thousand.”

“You’re building pretty high hopes,” Tommy said. “What if there isn’t that kind of money in Box 294? What if there isn’t any money in it?”

“There’ll be money in it,” Trent said confidently. “There’s got to be. And a lot of it.”

“I hope so.”

Trent left the shop and Tommy puttered about for a few minutes. Then he went back to his bench and pulling out the drawer, retrieved the key he had dropped into it before Trent’s arrival. It went into his pocket to join another key that already reposed there.

The phone rang. Tommy, answering, heard George Roan’s voice. “Tommy,” exclaimed Roan, “jump into your car and come over here. A problem’s come up that needs some figuring. Lock up the shop.”

“All right, Mr. Roan. What’s the address?”

“Darned if I know,” replied Roan. “But it’s on Santa Monica between Gardner and La Brea; two or three blocks east of Gardner. You can’t miss it; it’s a two-story brick building and the name’s out in front, Hadley Manufacturing Company.”

“I’ll be there inside of ten minutes.” Tommy hung up, got his tool kit and left the shop, locking the door behind him. He carried his tool kit to his flivver and put it in, then cut across the street to the beige-colored coupe.

Louie grinned at him lazily. “How’ya, chum?”

“I’m going out on business,” Tommy said. “It’s on Santa Monica, a couple of blocks this side of Gardner. The Hadley Manufacturing Company. I thought I’d tell you in case you happened to get lost at a stop light. I wouldn’t want you to lose your job, you know.”

“Well, now, that’s mighty nice of you, bub,” Louie said cheerfully. “But I’ll just tag along behind you, even if it don’t happen to be on Santa Monica, a couple of blocks this side of Gardner.”

Tommy recrossed the street and getting into his car drove it at an easy pace to Santa Monica. He had no trouble finding the plant of the Hadley Manufacturing Company. He found a parking spot nearby. Louie pulled up behind him.

“You’ll have a little wait here,” Tommy said, “because I’ve got some work to do inside.”

“Waiting is the best thing I do,” retorted Louie. “Take your time. I ain’t got no place to go, anyhow.”

Tommy entered the offices of the Hadley Manufacturing Company and looking through a plate glass window behind the receptionist saw George Roan talking to a balding man in shirt sleeves.

“I’m with Mr. Roan,” Tommy said to the receptionist.

“Oh, yes. You may go right in.”

Tommy went through a door into the main office. There were a dozen desks and along the left side of the room a row of small, private offices.

Roan saw Tommy as he approached.

“Ah, here you are, Tommy. Mr. Hadley, Tommy Dancer, my partner.”

Hadley shook hands with Tommy. “Glad to know you, Mr. Dancer. Mr. Roan’s been telling me about you. Claims you’re the best lock and key man in the business.”

Tommy looked sharply at Roan. Praise from his former employer had been scarce in the past. As a partner he did not seem to mind giving it. It probably helped back up his sales talk.

“I’ll tell you the setup here, Tommy,” Roan said. “Mr. Hadley makes radar equipment which is quite valuable and some of it is rather small in size, which lends itself easily to theft. That’s the reason for the burglar alarm we’re going to install.”

“Mr. Roan, you’ve been over the plant,” Hadley said, “so I’ll just leave you two alone. If there are any questions you want to ask I’ll be in my office.”

“Fine, fine,” said Roan. “Let’s go out to the plant, Tommy.”

He led the way through a door into a large plant where some forty or fifty employees were working at machines and assembly tables.

“It’s the windows I’m worried about, Tommy,” Roan began. “If they were steel casement we could do the job for much less. But no, they’re the old-fashioned sash windows, which are about as safe as mosquito netting.”

“Mr. Roan,” Tommy said, “I got a phone call just as I was leaving the shop. My aunt from Minneapolis landed in town this morning. She’s downtown at the bus depot and is taking the streetcar out here to Hollywood. You know how relatives are; just because you haven’t seen them in a few years they think you’re going to drop everything and show them the sights. I said I’d meet her at Hollywood and Highland but all I’m going to do is take her over to my apartment and leave her there for the afternoon. Do you mind if I run over to the streetcar now? She’ll be getting there in about fifteen minutes. I’ll be back here in forty-five minutes or so.”

George Roan looked at Tommy with some disappointment. “I was counting on you to help me figure these windows.” He sighed. “Well, I guess I can work on the rest of the job while you’re gone. You’ll be back inside of an hour, though?”

“Sure, you can count on me, Mr. Roan.” Tommy pointed to a door at the rear of the shop. “I’ll just slip out the back door.”

He strode quickly to the zinc-lined door at the rear of the shop, opened it and stepped out into the alley. He discovered that it led to a side street a hundred feet away. He walked swiftly to it. Before stepping out into the street he peered out cautiously and looked toward Santa Monica. Finding that the coast was clear, he came out of the alley and walked northward.