Читать книгу The Scarecrow Mystery (Ted Wilford #8) - Norvin Pallas - Страница 6

WHEN THEY HAD GOT TO STANTON NEXT MORNing, Ted had no trouble reaching Mr. Prentice at the hotel, and was told to come up to room 208.

“Want me to come with you, Ted?” asked Nelson.

“No, better not. I look young enough as it is, and Mr. Prentice might get the wrong impression if he thinks I need someone along to give me support—even if I do. I’ll try not to be any longer than I can help.”

Mr. Prentice opened the door at Ted’s ring.

“I’m Ted Wilford, from the Forestdale Town Crier.”

“Come on in, Ted. I have to leave for an appointment in half an hour, but that should give us enough time. Take off your coat and sit down. Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” said Ted, settling himself in a chair. He had a notebook and pencil in his pocket, but did not produce them right away. He had often heard that some people get upset if they think everything they say is being taken down.

Ted had briefed himself as carefully as he could on the strike situation, but it was such a complicated affair that it was hard to know just where to begin. Finally he decided it was best to go directly to the main point.

“Mr. Prentice, do you think there is going to be a trucking strike?”

The union leader hesitated. “The union isn’t going to call a strike, Ted, as long as our contract is being observed. But if these violations of our contract go on, it’s quite possible that the executive council will call for a strike vote.”

“The owners claim that it’s the union that is breaking the contract.”

“That isn’t true, of course. We’re not completely satisfied with the present contract, but we’re willing to work under it until it expires. There have been only a few minor violations when, due to illness, we haven’t been able to get workers on the job.”

“Isn’t it true that the absentee rate has been abnormally high?”

“It always is, in winter.”

“But they have statistics to show that the absentee rate is more than twice as high as the rate for the same period in previous years.”

“That’s just the kind of insinuation I don’t like, Ted. You can’t judge by previous years. Colds and flu can hit a peak any time between November and March. This year it happened to hit at the end of December. I’m not trying to whitewash labor. We have our occasional goldbrickers, just the way any organization does. But if a man claims he’s ill, I’m willing to believe he’s ill, unless I see a doctor’s certificate to the contrary.

“The real trouble,” added Mr. Prentice bitterly, “is that the employers wouldn’t believe us even if we presented them with a whole bushel of doctors’ certificates.”

“If a contract is being broken, wouldn’t a court be the proper place to settle it?”

“What kind of court did you have in mind? A broken contract is a civil offense, not a criminal, and lawsuits can drag through the courts for months or years.”

“Have you any reason to think your men may start some trouble this weekend?”

“Aren’t you prejudging the case, Ted? If there’s trouble, why does it prove that our men started it?”

“But there have been incidents in which individual workers have defied their leaders. If the union can’t control its own membership, then why does it have any right to expect a contract?”

“I’m not angry at your questions, Ted, because I realize you’re only doing your job. What burns me up is that the same statement is made by responsible men who ought to know better. If the union leaders sincerely try to live up to the contract, they can’t be held to blame for the actions of an irresponsible few. If individual members have broken the contract, or broken the law in some way, let them be punished as individuals.”

“Wouldn’t that be awfully hard to pin down?”

“Perhaps it would, but I don’t see where the employers have a legitimate complaint as long as the union leaders, and the vast majority of the union members, are obeying the contract. As for the others, the union can handle them with its own methods.”

“Apparently the employers don’t believe they are effective enough.”

“No, because they’re anxious to blame the whole union.”

“What if a small group of men went out on strike, what would the union do about it?”

“The officers would make every effort to get them back to work, as long as the strike did not represent the vote of any local unit. Of course if a local did call a legitimate strike, then we’d have to approve it.”

“Suppose the strike spread to other locals, how far might it reach?”

“As far as the area covered by the contracts in question—that is, this entire half of the state.”

“Even if the employers were violating the contract, couldn’t the men continue working until court action could be started?”

“Ted, we’ve learned through long, bitter experience that without a legitimate contract, it is better to walk out.”

Although Mr. Prentice had not directly answered his most important question, Ted felt he had the answer. If the union thought there were contract violations, there was going to be a strike, probably over the coming weekend, which would involve this whole section of the state. But there was still the matter of the pending court hearing.

“Do you intend to produce the union records for the court hearing tomorrow morning in Forestdale?”

“Of course I do. That’s what the judge asked for, and that’s what he’s going to get. I have a microfilm of the files for the period concerned.”

“As I understand it, one of the principal charges is a connection between certain members of the union and certain racketeers. Do you think there will be anything in the records to prove it?”

“I most certainly do not!”

“Then you deny you’ve ever had any dealings with Jed Myers?”

“I deny it now, and I’ll deny it emphatically tomorrow morning on the witness stand.”

“Is it possible that any other officer in the union had such dealings?”

Mr. Prentice’s face flushed a deep red. “If there had been any arrangement with Jed Myers, I don’t see why I wouldn’t have known about it.”

But he was less certain and more blustery. Ted thought: He thinks not, but he isn’t sure. Mr. Prentice couldn’t be positive that someone might not have been involved with Jed Myers, and it seemed to Ted he was afraid it might come out at the court hearing. Ted felt it time to draw the interview to a close.

“Thank you, Mr. Prentice. I think that gives me everything I need, and I appreciate your giving me so much of your time.”

“Not at all, Ted. I’m not asking for favors, but just give us a fair break in your story. Phone from here if you want to, and I’ve got a portable typewriter over by that table you’re welcome to use. I’m going out and will leave you to it.”

“I have a friend waiting in the lobby who drove me down. All right if he comes up?”

“Sure. By the way, Ted, if you’re still here when I get back, perhaps we could drive up to Forestdale together. It’ll be too early for lunch, but we could stop somewhere along the road.”

“That would be fine, Mr. Prentice. I’ll wait as long as I can.”

“This is all right,” Nelson remarked after he joined Ted, “but it’s not the best suite in the place, and Mr. Prentice wasn’t dressed very well. It doesn’t look like he’s getting rich on union money.”

“No, he struck me as a very honest person, but of course he doesn’t tell everything he knows. I don’t think he’d concede one inch, if he thought he was right. I hope we have lunch together. I’d like to get a little stronger impression of him.”

“What goes, Ted? You sound like you expected to stay on the story. We’re going back to college, remember?”

“That’s right. Well, maybe Mr. Dobson will let me cover the court hearing tomorrow morning. But right now I want to get what he said down on paper, before I lose it.”

For nearly an hour the keys clacked rhythmically. Of course it wasn’t possible for Ted to say that there was going to be a strike, which was really only his opinion, but the reader was certain to get the idea that a strike was a strong possibility. Ted supposed that Mr. Dobson would probably put a headline over the story reading: TRUCKING STRIKE LOOMS, or something like that.

When Ted felt satisfied he’d done the best he could in the time he had, he put through a collect call to the Town Crier office. Miss Monroe answered.

“Oh, Ted. Wait till I put on my earphones, and I’ll type the story as you read it. Mr. Dobson’s listening on the other phone. He wants to hear it, too.”

“All right, Ted, go ahead,” said Mr. Dobson’s voice.

Ted read his story slowly enough for Miss Monroe to copy it. When he had finished, Mr. Dobson had a few questions. Fortunately Ted was able to give him the additional information he wanted.

Ted knew that the editor was pleased, though his voice was crisp. They were generally rushed on deadline morning, but after noon they could all relax a little.

“Thanks, Ted,” the editor commended him. “It’s a good job well done. There’s no great hurry getting back, but if you’re here before two, Miss Monroe will be able to get to the bank before it closes.”

They hung up, and Ted felt suddenly relieved and almost carefree.