proof in the form of a parking ticket that he’d been here. He went back to the building entrance, drew his key case from his pocket, and with the key that Havers had forgotten to ask him for he unlocked one of the double doors and entered.
The lobby was deserted, the tile floor still littered with dark scuff marks and cigarette butts. The clank of a mop and scrub bucket sounded loudly from one of the downstairs halls. Roebuck walked quickly to the elevators and punched the “up” button.
As he closed the door of the anteroom behind him Roebuck smiled. Mary’s desk sat before him, everything in order, her electric typewriter neatly covered. There was no sound from the offices of Havers Advertising.
It was as easy as he thought it would be. Mary’s desk drawer was unlocked, and he lifted the metal box from it and set it on the desk top. The box too was unlocked. The money was under some blank papers, neatly rolled and held by a thick rubber band. He counted. A hundred and fifty-two dollars. Not as much as he’d hoped for, but it would have to do.
He was closing the metal lid of the box when the door to the inner office opened with a slight sound and Havers looked out.
“Louis! What the devil are you doing here?” But even as he asked the question Havers’ eyes went from the metal box to the open desk drawer to the stack of bills on the desk.
Roebuck was frightened, but he grinned as best he could. “I needed an advance on my salary,” he said.
Havers was looking at him with disgust. “I told you I’d mail you your check.”
“I needed it right away. Some bills to pay.”
“I suggest you return the money to the drawer,” Havers said, “and I won’t call the police.”
Roebuck stood very still. He was remembering the wall safe behind the bookcase in Havers’ office. Perhaps it wasn’t such bad luck that Havers had decided to work late. Roebuck picked up the stack of bills, folded them and slipped them into his pocket. He could see Havers tighten.
Havers turned and walked back into his office and Roebuck followed.
“Open the safe,” Roebuck said.
“There’s nothing of value in it, Louis.” Havers sat behind his desk, resting his hands lightly on the wide spread of polished walnut as if to give himself confidence. “I’d leave if I were you.”
“Either open the safe or tell me the combination,” Roebuck demanded, the edge of desperation creeping into his voice.
Havers’ lips were quivering as he stood to face Roebuck across the desk. “Leave, Louis, or I shall call the police and have you arrested. Leave with the few hundred dollars. I’m giving you a chance.”
“You’ll give me the combination,” Roebuck said, his voice breaking.
Havers’ right hand moved toward the telephone as Roebuck’s fingers curled about the heavy cut glass paperweight on the desk corner. As the tips of Havers’ fingers touched the receiver Roebuck hurled the paperweight with all his might.
The heavy paperweight caught Havers low in the stomach and he sagged to the floor without a sound. “Sorry, Private,” Roebuck said, and he giggled. He didn’t know why he giggled and he was immediately angry with himself as he walked around the desk and looked down at Havers writhing on the floor, fighting for breath. Roebuck picked up the paperweight, held it threateningly over Havers and lowered his voice an octave. “The combination!” he demanded. “I’ve killed eleven men in my time, and I might as well make it an even dozen.”
Havers struggled to speak, gasping, but no words forced themselves out.
“The combination!” Roebuck almost screamed.
“…Thirty…right…seventeen, left…twenty-five…right….” Havers was sitting back against the wall, clutching his stomach, his face a sickly gray.
Roebuck went to the wrought iron bookcase and scooped the books from the third shelf to reveal the small wall safe behind them. He worked the combination.
Seventeen-hundred dollars in cash, and some
The lobby was deserted, the tile floor still littered with dark scuff marks and cigarette butts. The clank of a mop and scrub bucket sounded loudly from one of the downstairs halls. Roebuck walked quickly to the elevators and punched the “up” button.
As he closed the door of the anteroom behind him Roebuck smiled. Mary’s desk sat before him, everything in order, her electric typewriter neatly covered. There was no sound from the offices of Havers Advertising.
It was as easy as he thought it would be. Mary’s desk drawer was unlocked, and he lifted the metal box from it and set it on the desk top. The box too was unlocked. The money was under some blank papers, neatly rolled and held by a thick rubber band. He counted. A hundred and fifty-two dollars. Not as much as he’d hoped for, but it would have to do.
He was closing the metal lid of the box when the door to the inner office opened with a slight sound and Havers looked out.
“Louis! What the devil are you doing here?” But even as he asked the question Havers’ eyes went from the metal box to the open desk drawer to the stack of bills on the desk.
Roebuck was frightened, but he grinned as best he could. “I needed an advance on my salary,” he said.
Havers was looking at him with disgust. “I told you I’d mail you your check.”
“I needed it right away. Some bills to pay.”
“I suggest you return the money to the drawer,” Havers said, “and I won’t call the police.”
Roebuck stood very still. He was remembering the wall safe behind the bookcase in Havers’ office. Perhaps it wasn’t such bad luck that Havers had decided to work late. Roebuck picked up the stack of bills, folded them and slipped them into his pocket. He could see Havers tighten.
Havers turned and walked back into his office and Roebuck followed.
“Open the safe,” Roebuck said.
“There’s nothing of value in it, Louis.” Havers sat behind his desk, resting his hands lightly on the wide spread of polished walnut as if to give himself confidence. “I’d leave if I were you.”
“Either open the safe or tell me the combination,” Roebuck demanded, the edge of desperation creeping into his voice.
Havers’ lips were quivering as he stood to face Roebuck across the desk. “Leave, Louis, or I shall call the police and have you arrested. Leave with the few hundred dollars. I’m giving you a chance.”
“You’ll give me the combination,” Roebuck said, his voice breaking.
Havers’ right hand moved toward the telephone as Roebuck’s fingers curled about the heavy cut glass paperweight on the desk corner. As the tips of Havers’ fingers touched the receiver Roebuck hurled the paperweight with all his might.
The heavy paperweight caught Havers low in the stomach and he sagged to the floor without a sound. “Sorry, Private,” Roebuck said, and he giggled. He didn’t know why he giggled and he was immediately angry with himself as he walked around the desk and looked down at Havers writhing on the floor, fighting for breath. Roebuck picked up the paperweight, held it threateningly over Havers and lowered his voice an octave. “The combination!” he demanded. “I’ve killed eleven men in my time, and I might as well make it an even dozen.”
Havers struggled to speak, gasping, but no words forced themselves out.
“The combination!” Roebuck almost screamed.
“…Thirty…right…seventeen, left…twenty-five…right….” Havers was sitting back against the wall, clutching his stomach, his face a sickly gray.
Roebuck went to the wrought iron bookcase and scooped the books from the third shelf to reveal the small wall safe behind them. He worked the combination.
Seventeen-hundred dollars in cash, and some
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