Catch Me If You Can Page 0,56
taken from a counter in the middle of the lobby when an even higher power of observation took command of my mind.
In the lower left-hand corner of the deposit slip was a rectangular box for the depositor's account number. I never filled in the box, for I knew it wasn't required. When a teller put a deposit slip in the small machine in his or her cage, in order to furnish you with a stamped receipt, the machine was programed to read the account number first. If the number was there, the amount of the deposit was automatically credited to the account holder. But if the number wasn't there, the account could still be credited using the name and address, so the number wasn't necessary.
There was a fellow beside me filling out a deposit slip. I noticed he neglected to give his account number. I dawdled in the bank for nearly an hour and watched those who came in to deposit cash, checks or credit-card vouchers. Not one in twenty, if that many, used the space provided for his or her account number.
I forgot about the girl. I surreptitiously pocketed a sheaf of the deposit slips, returned to my apartment and, using press-on numerals matching the type face on the bank forms, filled in the blank on each slip with my own account number.
The following morning, I returned to the bank and just as stealthily put the sheaf of deposit slips back in a slot atop a stack of others. I didn't know if my ploy would succeed or not, but it was worth a risk. Four days later I returned to the bank and made a $250 deposit. "By the way, what's my balance, please?" I asked the teller. "I forgot to enter some checks I wrote this week."
The teller obligingly called bookkeeping. "Your balance, including this deposit, is $42,876.45, Mr. Williams," she said.
Just before the bank closed, I returned and drew out $40,000 in a cashier's check, explaining I was buying a home. I didn't buy a home, of course, but I sure did feather my nest. The next morning I cashed the check at another bank and that afternoon flew to Honolulu, where a pretty Hawaiian girl greeted me with a kiss and put a lei around my neck.
I was a cad when it came to reciprocating. During the next two weeks I fashioned a $38,000 lei of fraudulent checks, spent three days hanging it around the necks of banks and hotels on the islands of Oahu, Hawaii, Maui and Kauai, and then jetted to New York.
It was the first time I'd been back in New York since hitting the paperhanger's trail, and I was tempted to call Mom and Dad and maybe even see them. I decided against any such action, however, as much from shame as anything else. I might return home a financial success beyond either Mom's or Dad's comprehension, but mine was not the kind of success either of them would appreciate or condone.
I stayed in New York just long enough to devise a new scam. I opened a checking account in one of the Chase Manhattan branches, and when I received my personalized checks, in the name of Frank Adams, with the address of an East Side flat I'd rented, I flew to Philadelphia and scouted the city's banks. I selected one with an all-glass front, enabling prospective depositors to see all the action inside and providing the bank officers, whose desks lined the glass wall, with a* good view of the cash inflow.
I wanted them to have a very pleasant view of me, so I arrived the next morning in a Rolls-Royce driven by a chauffeur I had hired for the occasion.
As the chauffeur opened the door for me, I saw one of the bank officers had indeed noticed my arrival. When I entered the bank, I walked directly to him. I had dressed befitting a man with a chauffeured Rolls-Royce-custom-tailored three-piece suit in pearl gray, a $100 homburg and alligator Ballys-and the look in his eyes told me the young banker recognized my grooming as another indication of wealth and power.
"Good morning," I said briskly, taking a seat in front of his desk. "My name is Frank Adams, Adams Construction Company of New York. We'll be doing three construction projects here during the year and I want to transfer some funds here from my New York bank. I want to open a checking account with you people."
"Yes, sir!" he replied