“No — do it with the match.”
“I don’t have to. I’ve already got a key made.”
“Do it again,” Trent persisted. He shot back his cuff and looked at his wrist watch. “I want to time you.”
Tommy got to his feet. “If it’s just a game...”
“It isn’t,” Trent said sharply. “I’ll pay you double.”
Tommy hesitated, then exhaling, got down on his knees and went through the entire procedure. When the lock was opened for the second time he got stiffly to his feet.
“Under two minutes,” Trent said. “You can do that right along?”
“Depends on the lock. This one’s one of the easiest. I could open it with a pick in ten seconds.”
Trent took out his roll of bills and peeled off a twenty. “Here’s your money.”
“You could have bought a new trunk for less.”
“Sure. But I wanted to see you work.” He paused a moment. “I like to see a smooth operator doing his stuff.”
“Any key man can do what I’ve done.”
Trent regarded him thoughtfully. “Can any key man open
Tommy looked at the twenty dollar bill in his hand. He folded it lengthwise, creased it to a knife edge and folded it again. Without looking at Trent he said: “If he can’t open a lock, he can drill it.”
“What about you?” Trent asked. “Do you use a drill very often?”
“All right, I’m a good key man,” Tommy said. “One of the best in the business. Is that what you wanted me to say.”
“I like a man who’s good in his job, whether he’s a key man, or... or a butcher or a baker.” Trent clapped Tommy on the shoulder. “Let’s join the party, huh?”
“Uh, n-no,” Tommy said. “I’ll be running along.”
“Don’t be silly, you can stay for a drink or two.” Then Trent grinned wryly. “It’s that pal of yours. He’ll think I’ve done something to you.”
“The hell with Andy,” Tommy growled.
Trent opened the living room door and stepped aside for Tommy to go through.
The party had increased in numbers, or the guests had become noisier. Tommy stopped in the living room and surveyed the party for a moment. A redhead with all that a redhead should have was giving a squat, bald man the business. A drink in one hand, from which whiskey was dribbling onto the bald man’s coat, the redhead was gripping the man with her free hand, gripping his arm and leaning against him drunkenly.
Trent called to the Filipino. “Manuel!”
The white-coated servitor came over with his tray. Trent took down two glasses, one for himself. The other he pressed upon Tommy. Here, drink this, then have another. When you get loosened up, grab yourself a girl. He nodded toward the redhead. “She came without anybody.”
A slow throbbing began in Tommy’s pulse. Automatically he moved the glass of whiskey to his lips and downed it in a single gulp. The waiter smilingly moved the tray so that it was easy for Tommy to take a second drink.
And then Tommy saw her. She was standing at the far end of the room, near the open door that led to the terrace; the girl for whom he had made a car key the night before. Elizabeth Targ.
She was wearing a black cocktail dress that shimmered with sequins. Her hair was done up high on her head. She had a glass in her hand, but seemed oblivious of it. Her attention was focused on someone out upon the terrace. Her face wore an expression that Tommy did not like.
He drank his second cocktail, took a third from the convenient Filipino and started across the room. He had to pass near the redhead and the girl suddenly let go of the bald-headed man and squealed.
“A man! A sure enough, honest to gawd, man!”
She lunged for Tommy, but he evaded her and she spilled the rest of her whiskey on the bald man’s suit. The man swore angrily. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a dame that can’t handle her liquor.”
“Says who?”
“Says me!”
But Tommy was oblivious of the fight that was beginning. He was across the room, and beside Elizabeth Targ.
“Hello,” he said.
She brought her eyes from the terrace and fixed them upon Tommy. “Hello.”
“I didn’t know you were a friend of Mr. Trent’s,” Tommy said, to make conversation.
“Trent? Who’s Trent?”
“The man who’s giving the party.”
“Oh, him.” Her eyes strayed toward the terrace, then she caught herself and looked again at Tommy. “I suppose we’ve met somewhere.”
“Yes, we have.” Tommy waited a moment, then added, “Last night.”
“Last night? I wasn’t anywhere last night.”
“I made a key for your car.”
She looked at him then with more than disinterest. “Oh yes.” She grimaced a little. “I... I gave you a tip, didn’t I?”
“Fifty cents.”
But he had lost her attention. Her eyes had gone again to the terrace and she seemed completely unaware of his presence. Tommy waited awkwardly for her attention to return to him, but when it did not he stepped deliberately around her and looked out upon the terrace.
There were two couples outside. One stood by the parapet looking down upon the street below. The other, a tall, lean man and a girl in a flaming red dress, stood in the far corner; close together, talking animatedly.
Tommy said, almost into Elizabeth Targ’s ear: “Good-looking girl.”
Her head swiveled toward him. “What?”
