The taxi pulls up in front of Al’s luxurious apartment. Al unloads his kit from the front seat of the cab.
“Some barracks you’ve got here,” says Fred, looking up at the building. “What are you – a retired bootlegger?”
“Nothing as dignified as that,” says Al. “I’m a banker!” Al looks at the cabbie. “How much to I owe you?”
“Take your hand out of your pocket, Sergeant!” orders Fred. “You’re outranked.”
“Yes, sir, Captain, sir!” salutes Al.
“Good luck, chum,” says Fred, closing the taxi door.
“Thanks,” says Al.
In the cab, Fred watches Al’s receding figure through the back window.
Al stares up at his apartment windows with a look of trepidation. He picks up his duffel and heads into the building.
In the lobby, the doorman is on the phone.
“Yes, I will,” says the doorman to the phone. “Yes, sir.” Al passes by the doorman to the elevator, where an attendant is waiting.
“One moment, please,” says the doorman to Al. Al continues walking toward the elevator. “One moment, please!” repeats the doorman, standing up. “Just whom do you wish to see?”
“Mrs. Stephenson,” says Al.
“Well, just a minute,” says the doorman, reaching for the phone. “I’ll have to announce you, first.”
“Put that phone down!” says Al. “I’m her husband.”