Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine Annual, No. 3, 1973

At the end of this two-year period Sidney felt that he was ready to begin a bit of jumping in and out for real, He first jumped into Allied Plastics, and lost two thousand dollars within three weeks because he didn’t jump out at the proper time. Sidney shrugged off the loss. So he’d made a miscalculation. So what? It wasn’t his money he’d lost. It was the bank’s.

Sidney worked in the bookkeeping department of the Bomont First National Bank and Trust Company. It was easy for him to juggle the books around so that the discrepancy wouldn’t be discovered, at least for the time being. And long before the “time being” had expired Sidney would have jumped in and out again and replaced the amount of the first loss.

For example, Sidney had his eye on Fairbanks Steel. Apparently Fairbanks Steel had its eye on Sidney, because the day after he waded in with a three thousand dollar investment, Fairbanks stock plunged to an all time low.

This shook him up. He couldn’t understand why things weren’t working out for him as they had when he was only a paper investor. He was now five grand in the hole and the bank’s books were giving him an uncomfortable feeling every time he opened them. They seemed to screech at him to restore the money he had stolen.

Sidney studied the market for another week and then, convinced that his system couldn’t fail a third time, decided to take the plunge. He “borrowed” another ten thousand dollars from the bank and nailed it on Melrose Chemicals. Melrose Chemicals had no sympathy or understanding whatever. Ten days later they folded Sidney’s — or the bank’s — ten thousand bucks vanished, never to be heard from again.

Sidney was now beset by a feeling he had never before known. It was a feeling of panic. Desperately he scanned the stock market reports. Brown Electronics looked good. It looked extremely good. It was a comparatively new company and had moved steadily forward since its inception. But was it worth the risk?

Sidney thought about it. Despite his careful calculations he had failed three times. The bank examiners were due: any day. They would detect the discrepancies at a glance and point the finger of guilt at him. He’d be arrested, tried and convicted. He’d be sent to jail for ten years, with three years off for good behavior.

Sidney shuddered. Then he had a great idea. If he was going to be sent to jail anyway, why not be sent for something worth while?

The next day was Friday and Sidney arrived at the bank with an empty suitcase. He told everyone he was leaving right after the bank closed for a week-end with some friends in New Hampshire.

Sidney was a long-time and trusted employee. One of his duties was to check the cash in the vault at the end of each business day. Thus it took no great scheming for him to fill his suitcase with stacks of currency, amounting to a quarter of a million dollars, without arousing suspicion. The theft couldn’t possibly be discovered until the vault was opened on Monday.

At six o’clock he left the bank, carrying the now rather heavy suitcase, and climbed into his car. But he didn’t head for New Hampshire. Instead he headed for the Bomont Airport.

On Monday Sidney was late in getting to work. It was early afternoon when he finally stepped through the door of the bank. He was promptly seized by two plain-clothes officers and hustled off to jail.

In high school and later in college Sidney had engaged in amateur theatrics. He considered himself a fairly good performer. He proved it now. To all of the questions, accusations and threats that were hurled at him he replied with shock, disbelief, wonder and indignation.

The interrogated him for hours, but it didn’t do any good. Sidney claimed he was innocent. Not only innocent but shocked that the bank could think him guilty of such a heinous crime.

He didn’t care what the books showed. Someone must have forged his handwriting. Of course he couldn’t tell them where he’d hidden the money. How could he when he didn’t have it to hide?

And so at last they gave up. They charged him formally with the crime. He was tried in court, convicted and given a ten-year prison sentence. But they didn’t get him to tell where he’d hidden the money. How could he, he protested to the bitter end, when he didn’t have the money to hide?

This, of course, was not the end of the matter. How could it be with a quarter of a million dollars stashed away somewhere and so many people wondering about its location? Two weeks after Sidney was incarcerated in Hayden State Prison he was summoned to the office of the captain of the guards. The captain’s name was Jack Manners, a brute of a man with a deceptively soft voice.

Sidney stood at attention before the captain’s desk and waited for the man to speak. The man took a long time to do so. He looked Sidney over with an expression that seemed to be no more than idle curiosity. Then he picked up the cane that was lying on his desk and began caressing it fondly.