“Shut up, Earl!” cried Trent. He returned to his armchair and plopped down heavily in it. Tommy and Faraday exchanged hostile glances then both went to chairs as far from each other as possible.
Trent looked from Tommy to Faraday, then back to Tommy. He said: “Can you open a safety deposit box?”
“Any lock any man can make can be opened,” Tommy replied. “That’s no good. Can
“With the right tools and enough time — yes.”
“Come again. Can you open a safety deposit box,
“How’m I supposed to open it — with my teeth?”
“Cut it out, Tommy, I’m serious. Can you walk into a bank vault and open somebody else’s safety deposit box — without getting caught?”
“No,” said Tommy promptly. “I can’t and neither can anyone else. Every one of those locks is different and besides it takes two keys one of which is owned by the bank.”
“I thought your business was
“It is, within limits. I can’t go into a bank vault and make keys to open every safety deposit box—”
“Only one box.”
Tommy suddenly looked sharply at Trent. “Your box?”
“Don’t be a fool. I’ve got a key for my box.”
“Maybe I’m dumb,” Tommy said slowly, “but this great scheme you’ve been talking about — is it that I go into a bank somewhere, make a key for a certain safety deposit box, which you will then empty?”
“That’s the general idea, Tommy.” Trent beamed again. “And you get five thousand dollars for that little job. Five thousand cold, wet smackers, just for making one little key.” He coughed. “I mean, two keys. You’ll have to make the bank’s key, too.”
Tommy exhaled heavily. “Of all the screwball ideas I’ve ever heard this takes the cake!”
Faraday, who had been holding himself in, exploded. “I told you the idea was no good, Trent!”
“Now, just a minute, fellows,” Trent said grimly. “I never knew a caper yet that didn’t have bugs in it. All right, maybe this one’s got some bugs. Let’s look at it. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the idea; you fellows haven’t. Earl, have you got a safety deposit box?”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to know where it is — or what you keep in it. I just want to know if you’ve got a box.”
“For the sake of argument, say I’ve got one. Why?”
“All right, you’ve got a box. And you’ve got a key for it. Now, exactly what happens when you go to the bank and want to put something into this box — or take it out?”
Faraday shrugged. “Nothing happens. The girl gets her key and unlocks her — the bank’s lock — and I unlock mine. That’s all there’s to it.”
Trent shook his head. “That’s what I meant, Earl; you haven’t given this any thought. Or you, Tommy. I went to my bank this morning. Now, listen carefully.” He reached into his pocket and produced a long, flat key. “Here’s my key. I hold it in my hand and I step up to the safety deposit window. They’ve got a pad of blanks there. I fill one out, the date, the number of my box and my name. The girl takes the slip, looks up a card that’s got my signature on it. She compares my signature and finds it’s okay. So she writes her initials on the slip and puts the thing into one of those stamping machines, that stamps the time of the day. Then she takes out the bank’s key, presses a buzzer that opens a gate that lets me behind the counter. She leads the way into the safety deposit room, takes my key and puts it in the lock of my box — Number 263. She turns the key, then she puts the bank’s key into the other lock, turns that and opens the door. She pulls my box out, part way, takes out the bank’s key and mine and hands my key to me. Then she steps out of the room. I take out my box and go to a table. I fool around with my box and after a minute put it away. I close the door, which locks itself automatically, and I leave the room. The girl nods — she’s kept her eye on the door of the room, all the time I’m in there — on me, too.” He stopped. “Am I right, Earl?”
“I suppose so. I never paid much attention.”
“Well, I did and that’s what happens when you go to open a safety deposit box.”
“I don’t have a safety deposit box,” Tommy Dancer said, “but I’ve opened a few — when people lost their keys.”
“Ah,” said Trent, “now it comes out. You
“I’ve drilled them open,” Tommy said bluntly. “People lose their keys and when people lose safety deposit box keys, banks don’t keep those same locks. We drill out the whole tumbler and put in a new one. They charge people $3.00 when they lose their keys, which is just about what we charge them for a new lock.”
“Have you ever done any work for the Highland-Hollywood Bank?”
“No. As a matter of fact, my shop doesn’t do any bank work, at the present time.”
“Do they know you at the Highland-Hollywood Bank?”
“I went in to cash a check once.”
“Did they cash it?”
“It was a government check and I had identification.”
“Government check?”
“Terminal leave pay.”
“You were in the service?”
“I’m twenty-eight years old and I’ve got two arms, two legs and two eyes. How could I miss?”
“How long were you in?”
“Four years.”
