Frank Gruber
The Lock and the Key
Chapter One
None of this would have happened if Tommy Dancer had won the third game. He would have paid Andy his dollar and had enough left over to pay for the lines. But his game was off tonight and he had lost the third game. So he taunted Andy into playing a fourth game and as a result was still in the bowling alley when the phone call came through.
“Telephone, Tommy,” called Rudy.
“Who is it?”
“Your boss.”
Tommy scowled. “Tell him I’ve left.”
Rudy shook his head. “I already told him you were here.”
Tommy put the sixteen-pound bowling ball back in the rack. “If he thinks I’m going on a call at this time of the night, he’s got another think coming.”
Andy, to whom Tommy imparted this, put his tongue in his cheek.
Tommy walked around Rudy’s counter and stepped into the phone booth. He picked up the dangling receiver and put it to his ear. Then he pulled shut the door.
“Yes, Mr. Roan,” he said into the phone.
“Tommy,” came the voice of Mr. Roan, “I want you to go out on an emergency call...”
“But it’s eleven o’clock,” Tommy protested.
“I know what time it is,” Mr. Roan said testily. “I wouldn’t even have asked you but I’ve got some people here at the house and I can’t go myself. It’s a car key job and the woman’s waiting in front of the shop, so run over right away. And look — charge her five dollars.”
Tommy took the receiver from his ear, glowered at the mouthpiece and said, “All right.”
He slammed the receiver onto the hook and jerked open the door.
“Business, Tommy?” Rudy asked as Tommy passed.
Tommy shrugged and, continuing down to the alley, headed for the ball rack. He picked out his ball.
“Going to finish?” Andy asked.
“Of course I am,” Tommy snapped.
“You mean you... told him off?”
Tommy poised his ball, looked down the alley and headed for the foul line. The ball left his hand, hit the alley and rolled straight down the center... for a railroad.
“Dammit,” said Tommy Dancer.
Andy chuckled. “Give up?”
Tommy glared down at the two pins that remained standing. He could never pick them both off and if he didn’t get a spare out of this one, he had no chance to beat Andy.
Helplessly, he turned to Andy. “All right, I owe you four bucks.”
“Pay brother!”
“I haven’t got enough with me, Andy.”
“Oh, yeah!”
“I’ll pay you tomorrow. I’m getting a fin out of this call.”
“You mean your boss is getting five.”
“He’s getting five,” said Tommy, “and I’m getting five. Any woman loses her car keys this time of the night can pay ten dollars.”
Andy shook his head admiringly. “Maybe the dame’s a good looker. I got a notion to go along with you.” Then he shook his head. “Uh-uh, any dame who’s out alone at this time of night can’t be much. If she was, she’d have a guy with her. And that wouldn’t do me any good.”
Tommy did not encourage Andy; he knew that he was right. He put on his coat, left Andy to square the bill and walked out of the bowling alleys. His Ford was parked a half block up the street and he climbed into it and headed down Melrose.
He saw her standing in front of the shop, but didn’t get a good look at her until he had made a U-turn and pulled up at the curb.
She came toward the car as he was climbing out. “Are you the...?”
“Yes.”
Andy had been wrong. She was a looker. About five-four and weighing around one hundred and ten. She was a blonde and had the smoothest skin Tommy had ever seen. Her dress, what Tommy saw of it, had probably cost as much as the average girl paid for a fur coat. Her coat, of course, was mink; perfectly matched skins.
Tommy unlocked the door of the little shop and switched on the light. The girl followed him inside.
“I’m on the corner of La Brea and Melrose,” she said. “I parked for a minute to run into a drugstore for some cigarettes and when I came out the keys were gone.”
“You’re lucky the car was still there,” Tommy said.
He picked up his tool case, then opening it, fumbled over the tools. He knew that they were all in the box, but it gave him a chance covertly to study the girl. She was younger than she had seemed out on the sidewalk, not more than twenty or twenty-one. But in the light she was even prettier. Here in the dingy locksmith’s shop she looked like... the girl of Tommy’s secret thoughts and all of his dreams.
“I got the number out of the phone book,” she was saying. “I didn’t want to wait at the drugstore because there were some men hanging around.” She frowned. “They kept saying things — and whistling.”
Tommy slammed down the cover of his tool box. “What kind of a car is it?”
“A convertible — a Cadillac.”
A Cadillac. Naturally. Mink went well with a Cadillac.
Tommy headed for the door. She passed him as he switched off the lights and the whiff of her perfume started the pulse throbbing in his temples.
He closed the shop door and starting to walk around his car to the driver’s seat, suddenly remembered a long-forgotten lesson and, turning back, opened the car door on the side nearest the curb. She looked at him in faint surprise.
“I’ll drive you there.”
She had expected to walk back to her car. A girl like her doesn’t ride in a mechanic’s car.
But she got in. Tommy closed the door and, going around the car, got in behind the wheel. He started to set down the tool box between himself and the girl, but twisted around and deposited the box in the space behind the seat.
She said: “I’m sorry to get you out this late in the evening.”
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
The car was rolling past the Melrose Alleys. Andy was probably still inside. He had told Andy that he would soak the “dame” an extra five so that he could pay the four dollars he owed Andy.
Well, she could afford it. Mink coat, Cadillac. A rich father or... He shot a quick glance at her. No, it was a parent. Although, how could you tell?
“There it is!”
The car, as she had told him, was standing outside the drugstore. A newsie was selling papers on the corner and a half dozen people were waiting for the La Brea bus.
Tommy made a U-turn and parked just ahead of the Cadillac. He got his tool box and walked over to her car. He climbed in and switched on the dashboard light. Elizabeth Targ, Foothill Boulevard, Beverly Hills, California, said the identification card.
He opened his tool box and took out a ring of blank keys. He tried one in the lock; it wouldn’t go in so he tried a second. This one would do it, with a little work.
“Can I help you?”
She was standing on the sidewalk, leaning over the rolled down window. Tommy took a flashlight from the box and handed it to her. It wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to help. All right, let her do something. She flicked on the light and focused it on the lock.
Tommy got out some paper matches, struck one and held it under the blank key. It smoked up nicely and he inserted the blank into the lock. He wiggled it back and forth, then withdrew it carefully. The blacking was rubbed off in several spots.
He got out a sharp file and struck it swiftly over the key. It ate into the nickeled blank and in about two minutes he wiped the key clean and used another match on it.
He tried it once more in the lock, then brought it out and examined it. Just a touch more on the second bit. He ran a smaller file lightly into the cut and inserted the key in the lock. It turned
“Okay,” he said.
“You mean... it’s done?”