Free A Vine in the Blood by Leighton Gage Page B

servants.”
    “And that’s often?”
    “Fortunately for me, it is.”
    “This particular job was on Thursday of last week.”
    “I remember.”
    “How many sets of keys did you make?”
    “Four. It’s always four.”
    “This time as well?”
    “This time, every time.”
    “You sound very sure.”
    “I am. Senhora Santos always buys the best. The locks on all her external doors are Medecos. They’re imported, virtually pickproof, but they’re expensive, and I don’t sell a lot of them. They come with two keys. If you want to make extras, you need special blanks. I stock them just for her.”
    “Suppose someone wanted to make another copy of one of those keys. Suppose you weren’t here, and they needed the copy in a hurry. How could they go about it?”
    “They’d go into town.”
    “Where in town?”
    “Their best bet would be one of the big locksmiths on Avenida São João. Those guys keep blanks for every conceivable type of lock, Medecos included. Why are you asking?”
    “We think the kidnappers used a key to get into Senhora Santos’s house.”
    “But …” It was the woman again, speaking from behind Hector’s back.
    Hector turned to face her. “But what?”
    “I read in the paper they’d smashed the door to her house.”
    “They did.”
    “Then why did you want to know how many keys Samuel made?”
    “Yeah,” Samuel said. “Why? You think maybe they got in some other way? You think they used a key?”
    “Maybe.”
    The locksmith shook his head. “Sounds crazy to me. If that’s what they did, why would they go to the trouble of smashing the door?”
    “He knows something,” the woman said, pointing at Hector. “Something that wasn’t in the papers. Is that right, Delegado?”
    “It’s just a theory we’re working on.”
    “But what would make you think—”
    “Please, Senhora. With all due respect, I’m not here to answer your questions. I’m here to ask them of this gentleman.”
    She reddened. “Yes, yes, of course,” she said. “Sorry.”
    Hector turned back to the locksmith. “Any idea why she always asked for four sets of keys?”
    “One for her, one for the servants, one for her son and one extra.”
    “And anyone who had one of those keys could have had it duplicated?”
    “Yes, they could. There are certain keys that you can’t duplicate, and other ones you aren’t supposed to duplicate, but Medecos don’t fall into either category. The only problem in duplicating a Medeco is to get your hands on a Medeco blank.”
    Hector thought about it. Lefkowitz had found three sets of keys in Juraci’s house. One had been in her office. That must have been the extra set. One was in the purse of one of the maids. That would be the servants’ set. One was in Juraci’s purse. Her set. That left the set that had been made for her son. He sure as hell wouldn’t kidnap his mother. But who was to say that someone hadn’t used Tico’s set? Or copied it?
    Perhaps a line of inquiry into Madeco blanks might lead to something. If they couldn’t come up with anything else, they could always try that.
    “Who do you get the blanks from?” he said.
    “The importer.”
    “There’s only one?”
    “Only one. That’s how they manage to keep the prices as high as they do.”
    “Can you give me the name and address of those people?”
    “Sure.”
    Samuel Arns went into the back. The woman, visibly chastised, didn’t say a word while he was gone. A minute or so later the locksmith came back with a piece of paper. He held it out to Hector.
    “It’s a reliable firm,” he said. “One of the oldest.”
    Hector took the paper and glanced at it. Arns had printed out an address and telephone number in a clear, legible hand. The importer was in São Paulo. That, at least, was a break. Hector couldn’t think of anything else to ask the locksmith, so he bid him and the red-faced woman a good day, went out to his car and called-in a report to his uncle.

Chapter Eleven
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