Jed Power

Me, Jimmy, and the Night Deposit Box

Jed Power

The minute I thought of it I knew it was a good idea. It had a lot of promise. And that was part of my job--to come up with scams that had promise. See, me and Jimmy, he’s my partner, we’re always looking for hustles like this. Well, at least I’m always looking. I’m the brains I guess you’d say. Jimmy? He’s the hands. He can do almost anything with his hands and I can do almost anything with my head. Neither of us is much good without the other. We’ve been together a long time and we balance each other out nice-like.

So when I ran my latest brainstorm past Jimmy, I was glad to see his eyes light up. And when he told me how easily he could put together the prototype I’m sure he saw my eyes do the same.

Jimmy built the thing in one night. Made it look real easy too. He used sheet metal and a soldering gun.

“Whattaya think?” he asked when he was done.

“Perfect, Jimmy,” I answered, and I wasn’t lying. It looked exactly like what it was supposed to look like--a bank night deposit box. You know, one of those things you see stuck to the side of bank buildings that businesses toss their dough in at the end of the day.

This one Jimmy had made was all silvery and shiny, just like the real thing and it had a handle that opened a little chute for the birdbrains to drop their deposits in. And I don’t know how Jimmy did it, but stamped right into the metal above the handle was the word “Deposits.” Jeez, that thing looked good. And real too. That was the important thing.

Now that Jimmy had the bogus box all set, it was time for me to put my brains back to work. And they didn’t have to work long either. Cameras didn’t scare me. Why should they? I knew they were checked out at only after the fact. And when they did the cops would only see two guys with hoodies and maybe a little glimpse of their fake beards and glasses. Easy. As far as the car goes, that wasn’t a problem either.

Jimmy’s been swiping cars since he was a kid. So naturally, he’s good at it and he’d get us one. Something squares would drive the family around in. Sweet. One that couldn’t be traced back to us. And gloves? I don’t like wearing the things. Too sweaty and uncomfortable. But it was part of the business so we wore them religiously.

I spent about one minute overtime figuring who we were going to get to put their money in our box. That was easy too. The mall stores--that’s where the money was.

For the next week I cased the local mall and watched as almost all the stores there made their nightly deposits into one of those boxes slapped onto the outside wall of the mall bank.

At night, alone in my depressing little Hampton Beach efficiency, I did some research (which was no more than opening the Yellow Pages and looking under “B” for Banks) and saw that there was a branch of this particular bank not too far away.

I took a drive over and what do you know? Luck was with me. It was an isolated little brick thing and it didn’t have a night deposit box on it--yet.

I knew from eyeballing the deposit box at the mall that Saturday night would be the best time to make our move. Most of the small stores dropped off their weekend receipts then. The larger stores didn’t figure in my plan, unfortunately, because they

had most of their cash picked up daily by armored truck. Still, I was sure that a lot of the smaller stores made hefty night deposits.

So Saturday night was the night. Both banks closed at noon and the mall stores at 9:30 P. M. Jimmy and I wanted our props in place for as short a time as possible, so it wasn’t until 8:30 when we arrived at the isolated bank branch. It was dark of course, and we cruised the building a couple of times. When we were sure no one was around Jimmy pulled the car right up to the side of the bank. We jumped out and Jimmy popped the trunk. Besides the bogus deposit box we also had a sledgehammer and a large metal hook-like contraption sharpened at one end. I grabbed the hook thing and Jimmy the sledge.

At the side of the building I held the sharpened end of the hook thing against the brick with the hook facing up. Jimmy motioned me to move it up, down and around until he figured it was right. Then I held it tight in that spot with both hands and closed my eyes. But it was okay. Jimmy hit the head of the hook thing square with the sledge and drove the sharp tip a couple of inches into the brick. He kept whacking it with the sledge till it was in solid. I let go and he hit it a few more times until the hook stuck out what he thought was the right distance.

The two of us then got the bogus deposit box out of the trunk and carried it over to the hook in the wall. The box was longer, and thicker at the bottom, than a regular night deposit box. It had to be. The night deposits that usually drop into a box end up inside the bank, but with ours the deposit bags would only drop as far as the box’s false bottom.

Jimmy and I lifted the box up, set the top lip on the hook, let go, and man it fit.

Jimmy had weighted that box so perfectly that the bottom just snapped tight against the brick when we let it go. I reached out with both hands and shook the box hard. It barely moved. We both stepped back and looked at it admiringly for a minute. Like I said, it was longer and jutted out from the wall a little more than a legitimate box would but who (except someone involved in what we were) ever noticed the size of those things anyway?

We jumped back in the car and Jimmy headed for the mall. When he got us there he pulled into a spot close to the bank between some parked cars.

I reached under the seat and removed a rectangular metal sign Jimmy had fashioned. Its size was about six inches by twelve inches. It had a piece cut out of it which we knew would allow the sign to fit snugly over the box’s handle, giving the impression it locked the box. Stamped into the metal in box letters were the words, “Out of Order. Deposits to Westgate Road Branch.” Me and Jimmy were betting that anyone seeing a metal sign would figure that this type of thing happened often enough to have a permanent notice made up.

We wanted to put the sign on at the last possible minute so we sat and waited.

Jimmy smoked and I drummed my fingers on the metal sign on my lap. I glanced over at Jimmy. He was staring straight ahead at the bank. He had a hard, craggy face and if you didn’t know what a nice guy he was, you’d probably be scared of him. Me? By my looks nobody’d ever figure I’d be involved in anything crooked. Yeah, me and Jimmy looked completely different but inside I guess we’re kind of the same.

Finally at 9:25, I bounced out of the car. I walked up to the bank and seeing that there was no one nearby, I fitted the metal sign tightly over the box’s handle. It looked good.

I returned to the car and Jimmy drove back to the isolated bank. It took us only a few minutes. Jimmy parked across the way beside an abandoned industrial building.

We had a clear view of the bank and our bogus box. Our eyes were fixed on it and we waited.

But not for long. At 9:40 a car pulled right up to the side of the bank. A well-dressed woman stepped out, looked nervously around, and then walked right over to our box. She didn’t hesitate even a breath, but pulled the handle and dropped a deposit bag right into the opening. She then hurried back to her car and drove off.

I bounced up and down on the seat and gave Jimmy a thumbs up sign. He had a big grin on his face and shook his head in amazement. It was working and we loved it. Just sitting there, me and Jimmy, watching the score unfold, knowing we set it in motion and that we would soon reap the benefits. What a rush!

For the next twenty minutes it was like a freaking parade. The cars pulled right up to the bank and dropped their little money bags right into our box. Jeez, it was beautiful. Two, four, six. Then we lost count. They just kept coming. It was unbelievable. Me and Jimmy just sat there watching, loving it.

Finally, a guy in a three-piece suit driving a BMW was pulling away after just making a contribution when an unpleasant thought entered my mind. I turned to Jimmy, saw the dreamy look in his eyes, and hated asking him, but I had to.

“How many bags will that thing hold, Jimmy?” I asked.

I watched as the smile on his face slowly changed direction until it was a melancholy droop. He didn’t answer and he didn’t have to. I got the message--he didn’t know. Now don’t ask me why I, the brains, didn’t think of this before. I just didn’t. You can’t think of everything you know.

I did know, though, that me and Jimmy had to get that box out of there before it filled up, and I told him so. But how? Every time we started to head for the box another car would pull up and some goof would make a deposit. I figured if this kept up we’d have to get in line to get to the box.

I realized now that our only hope was that the cars would stop coming. How many stores could there be at that mall anyway? I asked myself. Plenty apparently because at 10:15 they were still coming with hardly a break between them. Definitely not enough time for us to get over there and get away with our contraption.

Then at 10:20 on the nose it happened. I almost started to cry as I watched. A Ford Escort pulled up and (wouldn’t you know it) a skinny guy wearing a McDonald’s shirt and idiotic hat gets out and walks up to the box. He pulls down the handle and starts to put in the deposit bag. But he has trouble. The bag won’t fit in the box. My eyes bug and I can’t believe it as I watch the nerd try to jam the bag in. I pray he can do it. If he does me and Jimmy will get that box off the wall no matter who comes, I tell myself.

But no such luck. The geek stands there still trying to stuff the bag into the box, not realizing yet that it’s already crammed full of the other bags. Moron. Then my heart really sinks because another car rolls up and out pops a woman with a deposit bag naturally. She walks over and starts hobnobbing with the McDonald’s character.

And before you know it another guy drives up and now there’s three of them.

I look at Jimmy and he looks at me and we both know the score. As we’re driving away I glance over my shoulder and I see another car pulling up to the bank as the other three are still standing there kibitzing. I feel real bad. What a waste I think.

It’s a week later and me and Jimmy can’t believe it. We checked all the papers and not a word about the banks and our box. We figure it could only mean one of two things: Either they want to keep it quiet, hoping we’ll try again and they can grab us, or they think it’s such a sweet scam they don’t want to give anyone else ideas. Me and Jimmy are optimists, so of course we figure it’s because they don’t want my idea to catch on.

That’s why I’m sitting here at my desk now with a map of New England spread out in front of me and a stack of Yellow Pages directories on the floor beside me. I’m trying to find a nice small mall with just enough stores that their deposit bags would fill our special box. Almost fill that is, not overfill. Where’s Jimmy? Well, just in case my figuring’s off, he’s over in his cellar making a new box--a little bit bigger one.

Somewhere between a smaller mall and a bigger box it’s going to work. It’s a good idea. A good scam. Me and Jimmy just know it.