“So why did you want his fingerprints on that ashtray? Could you have gained access to the vault in that closely guarded building?”
“Probably not,” Maybee admitted. “But it was enough to scare the hell out of him. He knew that I knew, so he gave the word to approve my loan.”
“All because of this widow’s coin-and-stamp collection?”
“She wasn’t the only one. I discovered another widow who gave him her silverware and some valuable jewelry for safekeeping. All off the record. Nothing in the safe-deposit boxes. It was a private bank within a bank. I’ll bet that vault of his looks like a treasure house.”
“The government would certainly frown on such activities,” Nick said. “So would the bank’s stockholders. He’d be out on his ear in a minute.”
The parson nodded, smiling. “So maybe it was blackmail and maybe not. Who’s to judge?”
Nick simply shook his head. “A couple of con men, each of you trying to outsmart the other. Except, of course, that we don’t know if Norton was pulling a con. Maybe he’ll pass the collection on to the woman’s heirs when she dies.”
Parson Maybee’s smile broadened. “She did. And he didn’t.”
“The woman died?”
“A month ago. And he’s made no effort to contact the heirs. I know because I asked.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I had no proof for anything like that. It seemed better to handle it my way.”
“Listen,” Nick said suddenly. “I’ve got the ashtray back. I’d returned it to Norton but he didn’t pay me, so I stole it again. We’re going to use it to get into that private vault.”
“There won’t be any fingerprints on it now. He wouldn’t be that dumb!”
“No, I don’t expect any prints.”
“Then how will we get into the vault?”
“Philip Norton is going to open it for us.”
The first thing Nick had to determine was the location of the vault. The Toronto alarm firm was no help, but the New York company which had erected the building had blueprints still on file. For a small bribe to the right person, Nick got to spend an hour alone with them. There were no vaults shown on the 56th floor, where Norton’s office was located, but there was a small strongroom about the size of a walk-in closet on the floor below. Checking the building directory, Nick found that floor was given over to a secretarial pool. It was unlikely they would need a vault.
“You know what to do?” Nick asked Parson Maybee as they arrived at the building the following morning.
“I know, but I don’t like it. You’re getting me in too deep.”
“You were in pretty deep already, Parson. If this stunt gets Lawn Larson off your back you should be grateful.”
“Yes, where is she? I thought you said she was in on this.”
“She’ll turn up when she’s needed.” They took the elevator to the 55th floor and Nick followed the blueprints’ directions to the electrical fuse box. “The alarm system should tie into this,” he said.
“How do you know his private vault has an alarm?”
“In a bank like this everything has an alarm.”
“You tamper with the fuses and you’ll set it off,” Maybee warned.
Nick smiled. “That’s the idea.”
Philip Norton was in the midst of a branch managers’ meeting when his secretary brought him the word. “The alarm’s gone off on fifty-five, sir. Someone’s tampering with your private vault.”
Norton was annoyed. “Get the security men up there.”
She returned after a few moments. “It appears that someone’s locked in the vault, sir.”
“That’s impossible! No one could have entered it without—” He glanced around the table at the faces of his branch managers. “Please excuse me, gentlemen. Some business that needs tending to.” He hurried out of the room, following his secretary to the elevator.
On the fifty-fifth floor the secretarial pool was in wild disorder. An alarm bell was still ringing somewhere in the distance as Norton strode past the offices to his private vault. When he reached it, out of sight of the other employees, he found two security guards standing with Parson Felix Maybee. “What in hell are you doing here?” Norton demanded.
“Velvet’s in the vault!” Maybee exclaimed, pointing to the familiar glass ashtray on the floor. “He lifted your fingerprint from that and used it to open the door!”
Norton turned to one of the guards. “Shut off that alarm bell! Did you see him get locked in?”
The guard shook his head and Maybee said, “When he heard the guards coming, Velvet tried swinging the door shut from inside. Somehow it locked oh him.”
“I don’t see how that could happen,” the banker muttered, staring at the door.
“You’ll have to open it,” one of the security men said, drawing his pistol.
“It’ll be a pleasure,” Norton responded. “I’ll see Velvet rot in prison for this stunt. There’s no way he can beat a bank robbery indictment.”
The banker stepped to the strongroom door and placed his right thumb against a small square of glass. As he pressed in, the electronic gear was activated and his fingerprint was matched against the print on file in the computer’s memory unit. There was a low hum and the steel door clicked open. Norton swung it open the rest of the way, carefully shielding himself from the possible line of fire.
The little room was empty.
“Looking for me?” Nick asked, stepping out from behind the banker.
“Where—?” Norton’s face had suddenly drained of color.
“I was hiding in the next office. It was just a trick to get you to open the door. I wouldn’t want to be guilty of such a thing myself.”
Norton turned on Parson Maybee. “You lied to me! You said he was inside!”
“I might have given that impression,” Maybee conceded.
Surrounded by the guards and some girls from the secretarial pool, Norton began to recover his composure. “All right, Velvet. You can see I have nothing to hide. The so-called private vault of mine is empty. There’s nothing at all inside.”
Nick looked past him and saw that it was true. There were shelves on either side, like those in a walk-in closet, but they were all empty. Philip Norton’s dark secret was nothing at all.
“That’s good enough for me,” Nick said. Then, raising his voice, he called. “This way, Lawn. Right in here!”
Suddenly Lawn Larson appeared, charging in from the direction of the elevators with her cameraman and sound technician. “What have we got, Nick?” she asked, peering into the vault.
“An empty room. Film away, and get it on your six o’clock news. I’ve got a story to go with the pictures.”
Philip Norton’s jaw dropped.
“What’s this? What can you do with pictures of an empty vault?”
“Just the opposite of what. Maybee was planning to do,” Nick admitted. “He wanted that ashtray so he could break in and steal the treasures you had here — or at least threaten to steal them. I simply want to show that the treasures no longer exist. A lot of wealthy widows are going to watch the news tonight and wonder what happened to their jewelry and silverware and coin collections. You’ll have some explaining to do in the morning.”
Norton dropped his voice. “Damn it, Velvet, call off this woman! I’ll give you your fee!”
“Right now. In cash.”
“Agreed.”
Nick smiled and waved his hand. “That’s enough, Lawn. End of photo opportunity.”