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.
At the first intersection he turned right and continued on to La Brea, four or five blocks away. At La Brea he crossed the street to a filling station, intending to telephone for a taxi, but just then one came up and Tommy hailed it.
