The Lock and the Key

Chapter Two

Jerk isn’t quite the correct definition of lugan. There is a note of contempt in jerk that is missing in lugan. A lugan, if we must define the word, is a harmless not-so-bright character who is always around, but to whom nobody pays much attention. That was Herbie the Lugan.

He was seated on the stool, finishing his coffee and talking to Trent and Trent was eating his breakfast and paying no attention whatever to Herbie.

“You never saw anything like it,” Herbie the Lugan was saying. “The dame loses her car keys, so this guy from the key shop comes up. He uses a match and a file and in less time than you could run three furlongs he’s got a car key for the dame.”

“What?” Trent asked absent-mindedly.

“I said, imagine a guy who can go down a hotel corridor without a passkey and open every door in about thirty seconds flat.”

“Who?”

“This guy I’m telling you about, that I saw last night.”

“I heard you say something about a man opening a door with a match. That’s silly.”

“No, no, I said he used a match. Near’s I can figure it out, the match was to make the key black so that when he put it in the lock he could tell where to use the file. It was the slickest stunt you ever saw. From scratch he makes a car key.”

“Well, that’s a locksmith’s business, making keys; isn’t it?”

“I guess you’re right, but it was the first time I ever saw it done. Although come to think of it, people are losing keys every day of the week and you don’t hear of them breaking down their doors.”

Trent nodded. “You see these little lock and key shops all around town...” Then he looked thoughtfully at Herbie. “You didn’t happen to notice what shop this one came from?”

“No, he had a regular car without a sign on it. But I’ve seen the fella around.”

“Where?”

“Mostly around Melrose, come to think of it. Yeah, the bowline alley below Highland.”

“Make up your mind,” said Andy. “If you’re going to play, come on, if not let’s go to a movie.”

“Okay,” said Tommy.

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll play.”

“Well, come on, then, get your mind off the dame.”

Tommy went over the balls in the rack, found his favorite one and went to the chalk stand. Andy came over to chalk up his own hands.

“What’d she look like?”

“Like nothing I ever hope to see again in this world. Once, over in Germany, that time I stopped one, I was out of my noggin for a few hours and I saw an angel all in white except for blood dripping down—”

“Cut it out!” cried Andy.

“Then go ahead and roll!” Tommy snarled.

Andy got his ball, ran down to the foul line and sent the big sphere hurtling toward the pins. He got seven and picked up the other three with his next ball. He looked at Tommy.

Tommy was staring down the alley, watching the pins being set up. Then he sent his own ball down and the pins went crashing. A strike.

Trent and Herbie the Lugan, who had come up, nodded approvingly.

“Not bad,” said Trent.

“Perfect,” agreed Herbie.

Andy got his ball again and made one of the worst shots of the year. With a spare, all he picked off was an end pin. With his second ball he got two pins, for a total score of thirteen.

Tommy’s second ball was a strike.

“Pretty good,” Trent said.

“Great!” Herbie chimed in.

Andy gave them a dirty look and knocked over six pins with his next two balls.

“Hold it a minute,” said Trent to Tommy. “I got a hunch he can beat you even with the start you got.”

Tommy surveyed Trent with cold disdain. “This is a private game, Mister.”

“Okay, so it’s private. But I got a five says he can beat you.”

“Save your money,” Tommy retorted and sent his ball down the alley for a third strike.

“I’ll still bet you,” Trent taunted.

Herbie the Lugan stared at Trent in astonishment. “I’ll take that bet, Willie.”

“I didn’t offer it to you,” Trent said coldly.

“What’s the difference? I got ten bucks...” Then Herbie saw the look in Trent’s eye and gulped hard.

Tommy Dancer stepped over. “You want to lose money so bad, it’s a bet.”

“You’re on.” Trent grinned thinly. “I’m a form player. Some horses can run when they’re out in front, some can’t. I size you up as a man who goes to pieces when the chips are down.”

Tommy Dancer then proceeded to prove to Trent that he was a poor judge of character. He rolled two strikes, then a spare and picked up the remaining pins with the next ball, cinching his victory. Trent paid off with good grace. “I was wrong.” He winked at Dancer. “I’m a man who can admit it when he’s made a mistake. You roll a good game and you don’t get nervous when the money’s on the line.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said sarcastically.

“How about a drink?”

Tommy shrugged. “Beer’s all they sell here.”

“A beer’s good enough for me.” He started to turn away toward the bar at the side of the bowling alley, then looked back. “Your friend, too.”

Andy hesitated, frowning, but finally followed the others to the bar.

“Beers,” Trent said to the bartender. He produced a fat roll of bills from his pocket and, skimming through, found a small one, a ten-spot. He dropped it on the bar, poured out the bottle of beer and raised the glass.

“To you.” He looked questioningly at Tommy Dancer.

“Tommy Dancer.”

“Tommy Dancer,” Trent drank some of his beer. “What’s your racket, Tommy?”

Tommy Dancer wiped beer foam from his mouth. He nodded in the direction of Herbie the Lugan who stood behind Trent. “Keys. Isn’t that what your friend told you?”

“Huh?” Trent looked over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah. Herbie. Yeah, come to think of it, Herbie did mention that he saw you making a key for somebody a couple days ago.”

“Last night.”

“All right, last night.”

Tommy drank some more of his beer and waited for Trent to continue. Which he did after a moment or two. “I got a trunk over to the apartment. I lost the key awhile ago and I hate to break open the lock. Do you suppose you could run over and make me a key?”

“I work for the Melrose Lock and Key Shop,” Tommy said. “It’s in the phone book.”

“Sure. There are a lot of lock and key shops in the phone book,” Trent said. “But this is night; they’re all closed by now.”

“They have night numbers for emergency cases,” Tommy said.

“What do they charge — for emergency cases?”

“My boss charges five bucks.”

“I’ll give you ten and for all I care you don’t even have to tell the boss. You can stick it in your own pocket.”

“You can call the night number and get the job done for five Granite 3-1127.”

“Ah, the hell with the money,” said Trent. He looked at his watch. “And I got to run along now. Do you want to come with me and fix me up a key? Or don’t you?”

Tommy looked thoughtfully at Trent, then beyond him at Herbie the Lugan. Finally he shifted to Andy. “Want to come along, Andy? It won’t take me very long.”

“No,” said Andy promptly. A little frown creased his forehead. “Uh, Tommy, can I see you for a minute?”

Trent smiled thinly. “Ah, sure, tell him it’s dangerous coming along with us. He doesn’t know us from Adam. We might even be crooks — or kidnapers. You got some rich relatives, Tommy, who’d pay big ransom for you?” He sneered and took a card from his pocket. “Willis Trent, The Lehigh Apartments! If he doesn’t come back in a half hour, send the cops.”

“The hell with you,” said Andy, and stalked off.

Trent’s eyes glowed as he looked at Tommy. “I’ve got some people coming up to the place. Are you going to fix me up a key or aren’t you?”

“Let’s go,” said Tommy.

The three men left the bowling alley, proceeded to Tommy’s car where he got his tool kit, then walked to a very neat convertible parked a half a block away. They climbed in and Trent sent the car rolling along to Highland Avenue. He turned right on Highland and a moment later made another right turn. After a few blocks he turned left on Whitley and climbed halfway up the hill and stopped. The hill was so steep he was compelled to apply the emergency brake as well as put the car in low gear.

“The Lehigh Apartments,” Trent said. “Want to call your friend before we go in?”

“No,” Tommy said shortly.

“And I haven’t even got a gun on me.”

“Ha-ha,” laughed Herbie the Lugan.

They crossed the sidewalk and entered the lobby of the apartment house. There was a small desk in one corner behind which sat an elderly white-haired man. He nodded.

“Good evening, Mr. Trent.”

“ ’Evening, Eustace,” replied Trent.

“Some people been going up,” said Eustace.

“Fine.”

Trent led the way to an automatic elevator and the three men stepped in. Inside Trent pushed the button for five. The doors closed and the car whined up to the top floor. They got out and Trent led the way up a narrow hall around an el and to a door at the end of the corridor. From inside the apartment came the noises of a party going at full blast.

Trent pushed open the door and stepped aside for Tommy to enter. There were ten or twelve people in the apartment, most of them in the living room, but some overflowing to the terrace. A white-jacketed Filipino was serving drinks.

Trent waved at his guests. “Hi, folks! Make yourselves at home.”

“We are, Will,” someone called.

Trent grinned and continued on toward a bedroom door. Herbie the Lugan crowded on his heels, but when he reached the door Trent turned and, placing his hand on Herbie’s chest, pushed him back. “Join the party, Herbie. Drinks and food — free.”

“Oh, sure!”

Trent signaled to Tommy and they entered the bedroom. Inside Tommy surveyed the room. Some day, he thought, I’m going to have a room just like this. Silk sheets on the bed. Or maybe it’s satin. Mahogany furniture, velvet drapes. At least a dozen suits in the closet and neckties — a hundred of them, not one costing less than five dollars.