FELONIOUS ENTRY
THINK they’ve really got anything on Mr. Sorrel, Ted?” asked Nelson as they got into the car.
“Nothing that would hold up in court, that’s certain. I’m really surprised that they could suspect him of such a thing. I don’t suppose everybody does, but apparently a great many people do. It seemed strange when he told us about no one offering to help him on the road, but I can understand it now.”
“Are you going to talk with Mr. Sorrel again?”
“Sure, I’m more anxious to talk to him now than before.”
“Are you going to accuse him of setting off the explosion, or just ask him if he did it?”
“I’m certainly not going to accuse him. Mr. Dobson would have me off the staff in ten seconds flat if he heard about that. And I don’t suppose there’s much point in asking him, either. But it will be interesting to see what he has to say, now that we know a little more about him.”
“He didn’t mention the explosion when he talked to you this morning, did he?”
“No, and why should he help spread rumors about himself? But he didn’t know I was a reporter, either. He’ll know that soon enough, if I go around talking to all the people on this list, and he’ll figure I’m nosing into something.”
“He’s in something of a spot, all right. How could he prove that he didn’t do it?”
“No way that I know of, except by finding the guilty party.”
“And what if there isn’t any guilty party, that it was just an accident as the safety board decided?”
“Then I guess he’s just out of luck.”
They found a neat little snack bar where they had lunch, and then returned to the motel. Both were feeling tired after less than two or three hours’ sleep the previous night. But after a nap and a shower they were ready to look up Phil at the drugstore.
“Are we going to tell Phil anything about what the Allens told us?” Nelson asked Ted as they walked the few blocks to the store.
“We promised not to, remember? Anyway, a good reporter doesn’t tell everything he knows.”
“That’s all right by me, Ted, only I thought maybe Phil was like a member of the family.”
The sign on the door had been removed, but the shades were still down. Until they tried the door and found it open, they were not sure if the store was ready for business. But inside a scene of confusion greeted them. Packages had been swept off the shelves, magazines were lying about on the floor, and there was even some broken glass here and there. A young man was trying to put things to rights. He looked up inquiringly as they entered.
“I’m Ted Wilford of the Town Crier,” said Ted, extending his hand.
“Oh, Ted, how are you?” Phil exclaimed, coming out from behind the counter to greet him. “Glad to see you. I’ve certainly heard a lot about you.”
“And I’ve read enough of your copy to feel that we’re acquainted,” Ted responded. “This is Nelson Morgan, who takes pictures for us once in a while,” and Nelson and Phil also shook hands.
“What goes on here?” asked Nelson, sweeping his arm about in a wide arc.
“Burglary,” said Phil disgustedly.
“Lose very much?” asked Ted.
“Not really. Thirty or forty dollars in cash, and they picked our merchandise over, apparently knocking down everything they didn’t want to take. It was a bunch of juveniles, I suppose. Professional burglars only take what they want, and don’t ask for trouble.”
“Were you at home at the time?”
“Yes, but I was the only one home, and I sleep like a log. Anyway, my bedroom is in the rear, and sound doesn’t carry very well.”
“Still, it must have been someone who knew his way around pretty well.”
“I suppose so. And another thing he would have to know is that our burglar alarm is just a decoration. It’s been out of order for years, and somehow we never felt we could spare the money to get it fixed. Of course we didn’t broadcast the news, but I guess these kids have ways of catching on.
“Anyway, you got yourself a story for the Town Crier,” Nelson remarked.
“No, I don’t think so, Nelson,” Phil answered. “I hate to say it, but things like this are sort of commonplace around town ever since the mine closed down.”
“It sounds like a tough situation,” Ted acknowledged. “By the way, we stopped in earlier, but the store was closed.”
“Yes, I had to go down to the police station for a while, and then I wanted the insurance adjuster to see everything the way it was, before I started cleaning up. He was here a little while ago. We’re close to an agreement, but he wants as accurate a list as I can make up of what was taken.”
“Don’t you have some narcotics and other dangerous drugs?” asked Ted.
“Yes, but we keep them in a separate locked compartment. Nothing was touched there, which makes it seem more than ever like the work of juveniles.”
Then Phil asked them about their errand.
“Something came up that made us think about East Walton and the closed mine, and Mr. Dobson suggested that I run up here and look the situation over. So I rounded up my photographer and chauffeur, and came along. I hope there won’t be any misunderstanding about this story, Phil. It isn’t that Mr. Dobson didn’t think you could handle it, but it was outside the regular routine. Of course, if you’re interested, I don’t see why we couldn’t work on it together.”
“That’s generous of you, Ted, but no thanks.” Phil waved his hand at the debris about him. “It looks like I’m going to have my hands full here for a while. Even under normal conditions I’m more or less tied up here at the drugstore. My father and I are trying to run it between us—we can’t afford to hire any additional help—and that keeps me pretty busy. Anyway, I think you’re a better man for this particular job than I am. I’m going to have to go right on living here, even after the story appears. That means I’d have to be a little cautious about whose toes I stepped on. If you come up with a story that might do East Walton any good—and I know that’s what you have in mind—then you’ll have to come in here, get your own facts, form your own judgments, and let the chips fall where they may. It would take an outsider to do that.”
“I’m glad you see it that way,” said Ted, much relieved. “I appreciate it.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not interested in this story, Ted. After all, we both work for the same paper. If there’s anything I can tell you, or anybody I can steer you to, just let me know. By the way, whom have you talked to already?”
“Not very many people. There’s Mrs. Llewellyn—we happened to run into her children when they were out looking for their mule.” Phil did not seem at all interested in the mule, but looked up as Ted went on: “And then we came across Mr. Sorrel stranded on the road this morning, and had quite a long talk with him.”
“Patrick Sorrel—there’s a man for you. He’s not really a clown; he’s got a good deal more on the ball than he shows at first. But let’s see if I can guess what he told you. First he said everybody in town hated him, right?”
“That was one of the first things,” Ted admitted. “But he seemed to have something to back him up. He said half a dozen people he knew passed him up while he was stranded on the road.”
“Probably true,” said Phil. “Would you stop to help a man who might snap your head off? When a person says everybody in town hates him, what he probably means is that he does the hating.”
“Why should he hate everybody?” Nelson inquired. “Does he have any reason?”
“He doesn’t hate people as people, but what they stand for. It’s the coal mine, and the dirt, and the danger, and the poverty, and the ignorance that burns him. The miners felt that as a union official he should have been in there fighting to get the mine open again. Instead he walked out. Then it came out that he had been working on this property development scheme of his for years, even while he was acting as a union official. Naturally, the miners feel that while he was representing them, or ‘pretending’ to represent them, as they call it, he was really more interested in his own scheme. And when they see those fine homes going up across the river, and compare it with their own poverty—well, people are only human.”
“Won’t a development like that brings jobs to the community?” asked Nelson.
“Oh, yes—surveyors and contractors and masons and carpenters and electricians and all the rest. But not coal miners. Workers in East Walton are going to feel left out once more.”
“I can see where people in East Walton might feel that Mr. Sorrel had deserted them,” said Ted, “but still it seems kind of petty to leave him stranded out on the road.”
“You’ve encountered that famous personality of his, haven’t you, Ted? For some reason he can’t talk to a person for five minutes without insulting him—and it doesn’t matter who it is.”
Apparently Phil wasn’t going to mention the explosion, so neither did Ted or Nelson.
“How have things been going with you, Phil?” Ted asked then.
“Oh, the closing of the mine hurt us almost as much as anyone. Our business took a nose dive, and has never really recovered since. I was a high-school correspondent for our local paper, the way you were, Ted, when the explosion came. It was a big enough story so that I covered it along with the rest of the staff. It was my last important story. I went off to college to study pharmacy, but my money ran out in the second year, and I came home. Our local newspaper had died by that time, but I latched on to the Town Crier as a correspondent. It’s not as good as having our own local paper, of course, but Mr. Dobson tries to be fair.”
“Would the opening of the mine help you get back to college?” asked Nelson.
“It sure wouldn’t hurt anything. But I don’t know—I’m not sure that this mine is ever going to open again. And if it does automation may eliminate a lot of jobs anyway.”
But if he wasn’t figuring on the mine getting him back to college, Ted wondered, what would he do?
“If you want to talk to some young people, Ted, why don’t you stop in at the Teen-agers’ Canteen tonight? I won’t be able to stay the whole evening, but I’ll be able to introduce you around a little.”
Both Ted and Nelson thought this was a good idea, and agreed to meet him there. Then they took their leave.
That night Phil introduced the boys to a number of students and ex-students. There was a juke box going, and Ted was soon dancing with a high-school girl named Estelle. Although he was not advertising the fact that he was a reporter, Estelle remembered his by-line on some stories in the Town Crier.
“Are you going to stay on in East Walton, Estelle?” he inquired.
“Oh, no. Hardly anyone is—just a few who have no ambition, or are too tied down with responsibilities here, or have hopes of other kinds of jobs besides coal mining. None of us kids has much confidence in the mine any more.”
“What are your plans, Estelle?”
“I’m better off than most. My father is an unemployed coal miner, too, but I have an aunt who is going to help me through college. I plan to become a music teacher. I’m only waiting to get my high-school diploma. Most of the high-school graduates can’t go on to college, unless their fathers happen to be prosperous coal pirates.”
“Coal pirates? What are those?”
“Haven’t you heard about the coal pirates? Well, you know the mine is closed, but there are really a good many miners working down there. They come and go as they please, and dig coal for their own profit.”
“Doesn’t the company try to stop them?”
“Mr. Winslow, the president, is pretty tolerant about it. He figures they can’t get away with much, and if it helps some of the most desperate cases, then he’s willing to overlook it.”
“Do the pirates manage to earn very much?”
“I don’t suppose they do, although there’s a lot of joking about it under cover. No one talks about it, although everyone knows that it’s going on.”
“Is your father one of the coal pirates?”
“Oh, no. Some people think it’s all right, and some don’t. My father doesn’t.”
None of the talk changed Ted’s viewpoint about East Walton. Young people felt there was nothing for them in this community. Even if the mine opened again, they would be left out. Their only reaction was to get out of town as soon as possible.
Ted and Nelson decided to leave the Canteen early, and drove back to the motel quickly, only to find an officer awaiting them.
“Are you Nelson Morgan?” he asked, sticking his head in the window on the driver’s side, and Nelson nodded. “I’ve been waiting for you. Mind if I search you, young man?”