The Counterfeit Mystery Page 2

  “Why can’t we match their prices?” asked Ted.

  “I believe that’s where I come in,” Mr. Woodring continued. “It’s largely a question of volume. If we could do something to stimulate local trade, volume would pick up, and lower prices would come. I frankly don’t believe that there is enough difference to justify Forestdale people driving into North Ridge to shop. It seems to me they are going over now mostly as a matter of curiosity. My discount stamps would not only make up for the difference in price, but would also be a novelty that might induce them to come back.”

  “What do you think of it, Nancy?” asked Mr. Dobson, turning to her. “We’re anxious to get the woman’s point of view.”

  “I think it’s a grand idea,” said Nancy with enthusiasm. “We have trading stamps in my home town, and everybody seems to like them—anyway, the women do.”

  “And it’s the women we have to consider chiefly,” said Mr. Woodring quickly, “since they do most of the shopping. After all, you can’t always get 3 per cent on the money you save, so when you can get 3 per cent on the money you spend, that looks like a pretty good bargain. The women are the ones who have to stretch the household budget. When they can earn valuable premiums they couldn’t otherwise afford, it’s easy to see why they like the idea.”

  He had another booklet in his hands which he handed to Nancy. It was filled with pictures of premiums, and Ted noticed at once an electric train and a number of familiar household items. This glance satisfied his own curiosity, since he did little shopping himself, but Nancy appeared much more interested, and continued to leaf through the book as the conversation went on.

  Mr. Dobson seemed to be encouraging Ted to express an opinion, as though he wanted the plan to be thoroughly talked out.

  “Who’s paying for it?” asked Ted bluntly, determined not to be sold a bill of goods, but to try to find flaws in the plan if he could.

  “Who’s paying for what?” asked Mr. Woodring patiently.

  “Well, for printing up the books and stamps and all. That’s kind of expensive itself, isn’t it?”

  “Well, Ted, as far as that goes, we can be completely realistic about things. You know—and I know—that not all the stamps that are given to customers are going to be turned in. Some stamps are lost. Some customers start but never complete their books. My firm charges the stores for all the stamps we give them, but not all these stamps come back, and so we never have to redeem them. The difference is enough to cover the costs of keeping the plan moving.”

  “But who’s paying for the premiums? Isn’t it true that the customers are really paying for them, in the form of higher prices when they make their original purchases?”

  “No, Ted, I don’t think that’s a fair way to look at it at all. A store sells merchandise at a certain price, as low a price as it can and still make a fair profit. Perhaps it would like to lower its prices to beat the competition, but it can’t and still remain in business. Then a trading-stamp plan comes along. The trading stamps attract more customers, and because the store is doing a larger volume of business it can now afford to lower its prices. It appears to be charging the same prices, but its prices are really lower because the customers are getting these additional premiums. But no, I decidedly don’t think it’s fair to say the customer is merely paying for his premiums through higher prices. He’d have to pay these prices anyway. The plan is really being paid for by increased efficiency.”

  Of course he was a salesman for the trading-stamp firm, and he could hardly have been expected to express any other point of view. In fact, his company had probably trained him to make that little speech. Just the same, Ted felt that there was some sense in what he was saying.

  “What I can’t figure out is how your company makes any money,” Ted maintained. “If you merely sell stamps to the stores, and afterward redeem these stamps from the customers, how do you make any profit? Just how does the Blue Harvest stamp company pay your salary?”

  “I suppose, Ted, if you want to be blunt about it, the truth is that we’re merchants, too. We’re selling merchandise, the merchandise being the premiums offered in that book.” He nodded toward Nancy. “You know that most stores buy their merchandise in large quantities, and because they buy these large quantities they are given discounts. They then sell to their customers at the full list price, and the difference between the two prices represents their margin. Out of this margin they have to meet all their expenses, and they hope to have a little left over for profit.

  “Now my firm does about the same thing. We buy these premiums in large quantities, and get our discount. Then we sell to our customers at the full price. When a customer comes in to us with ten dollars’ worth of stamps and selects a ten-dollar premium, that doesn’t mean the premium cost us ten dollars. We bought it at a lower price. But that doesn’t mean the customer is getting cheated, either,” he added quickly, “for if he went out to buy that premium somewhere else, he’d have to pay ten dollars for it. The difference between the cost of the premiums to us and the price we sell them to our customers represents our margin, and that’s what keeps us in business. Of course our customers don’t pay us in cash. They pay us in stamps, but since we previously sold these stamps to the stores for cash, the result is the same.”

  “What if the North Ridge stores should adopt the plan, too?” Ted questioned. “Then wouldn’t we be in the same predicament in relation to them that we are now?”

  “That isn’t likely to happen, Ted.” Mr. Woodring’s tone sounded wistful. “I don’t say that we wouldn’t like to have them adopt our plan, but they have a different style of operation. If they do adopt a trading-stamp plan, it won’t be ours. But if the North Ridge stores do come up with some such plan, isn’t that an even stronger reason why the Forestdale stores should have a plan of their own to meet the competition?”

  Mr. Woodring had been addressing his remarks to Ted, but Mr. Dobson had been following closely, and it was to the editor that he now turned for a decision.

  Mr. Dobson had evidently been giving the matter some careful thought, and he now seemed to have made up his mind.

  “Yes, Mr. Woodring, you’re right that our town has been having trouble keeping our sales up. Since North Ridge is a larger town, it may be that it does offer attractions to buyers that we can’t hope to meet but we should at least be able to hold our own, and it may be that your trading-stamp plan will do it. At least, I think it’s worth a trial.”

  Mr. Woodring rose to extend his hand to the editor. “Thanks. I’ve heard something about your reputation, and how you get behind local projects, so I was hoping I could interest you.”

  “But it’s still up to you to sell the plan to the merchants,” the editor cautioned him. “If you can do that, the newspaper will stand behind you with publicity and an advertising plan such as we were discussing before Ted and Nancy came in.”

  Having made his sale, a good salesman leaves promptly, and Mr. Woodring was about to do so when he added:

  “By the way, now that you’ve accepted my plan, I feel I’d better go ahead and open up some office space. Do you know of any place that happens to be vacant?”

  “There’s the Jackson Realty Company office on Poplar Street,” Ted spoke up. “They moved out a couple of weeks ago, and I noticed this morning it’s still vacant. Of course I don’t know whether they’ve got a new tenant lined up, and it isn’t very large.”

  “That sounds like it might do,” said Mr. Woodring quickly. “I don’t need much space—just a desk and a telephone and display room for some of my premiums. I may need it for only a few weeks. Sometimes my firm opens up a permanent premium store, but I don’t think the volume will justify it in this town. Later, people will have to order their premiums by mail. But just now I think I ought to have some display space. It might help arouse a little customer interest and curiosity, if nothing more. Incidentally, you needn’t regard anyt
hing I’ve said today as being at all confidential. The more publicity you can give to the plan the better.”

  He said good-by to each of them by name, picked up his brief case into which he had stuffed his exhibits, and opened the door, almost bumping into Miss Monroe, who was just returning. Pausing only to excuse himself, he hurried on outside, and was soon out of sight.

  Miss Monroe seemed pleased that Ted and Nancy had become acquainted. Nancy hurriedly described her meeting with Ted at the swimming pool, but while she wanted to give Ted full credit, she made light of her own fears. Ted, too, followed her lead.

  “She could have made it all right by herself,” he joked, “but it was more fun this way.”

  “Well, what about lunch?” asked Miss Monroe, laying down her notebook and purse on the desk as though she had had a frustrating morning. “Will you join us, Mr. Dobson?”

  “No,” he returned with a smile, but still thoughtful, “I’ll stay here and tend to the shop until you get back.”

  “How about you, Ted?” asked the secretary.

  Having lunch with Nancy would have been fun, but Ted declined. There was still a question in the back of his mind. This Blue Harvest plan was interesting enough, but where did he fit in? Mr. Dobson had asked him to sit in on the conference, but for what purpose? It was hardly just a courtesy. After all, Mr. Dobson didn’t owe him any favors, although for some reason he seemed to think he did. Ted had an idea that Mr. Dobson was waiting to get him alone before broaching some sort of proposition.

  “I’d like to very much,” he answered, “but I’m expected home for lunch”—which was the truth. “Anyway, I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon, Nancy.”

  “I hope so, too, Ted,” she returned with a smile as she and her aunt left the office.

  CHAPTER 3

  HUMAN NATURE

  When they were alone, Ted sat down in the chair near Mr. Dobson’s desk. As he had surmised, the editor had indeed wanted to talk to him, but took time to light up his pipe before proceeding to business.

  “Ted, Mr. Woodring is going to need someone in his office, someone to answer the phone and handle inquiries while he’s out—and he expects to be on the road a good deal. I told him I’d let him know if I could find anyone, but I had you in mind. He mentioned something about it when I spoke to him on the phone early this morning, which was the reason for my call to you. It wouldn’t be hard work, and you might even find it dull, since you’d be sitting around alone most of the time. I certainly don’t want to interfere with any plans you may have for yourself, but it would probably be for only a few weeks, and the job is yours if you want it.”

  Ted hesitated. He didn’t mind taking the job, even though it did seem a little dull, for it would give him something profitable to do during the next few weeks. But first he had to be sure it really was a useful job, not just some made-up work Mr. Dobson had devised out of a feeling of obligation to him.

  “Are you sure he really needs somebody?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, he honestly does, and if you don’t take it I’ll try to get someone else for him. I may as well make it clear to you that if you start the job, it will be the newspaper and not Mr. Woodring who is paying your salary. This will be part of the help I promised him, in case he’s successful in interesting merchants in his plan. Of course our interest is clear. Anything that helps our merchants helps our advertising. That’s being a little crass about it, since my principal desire is to do something which I feel is good for the whole town, but it would be hypocritical to deny that we have a self-interest in the plan, too.”

  “I guess I’ll take the job, then, if he really wants me,” Ted answered, but couldn’t avoid a feeling of disappointment. When Mr. Dobson had phoned him that morning, Ted had been led to hope that something big and exciting was in the wind. Well, life wasn’t always like that. A thing could be big and important, but not very exciting.

  Mr. Dobson swung about in his swivel chair until he was directly facing Ted. “I’ve one little point to make, Ted, and I certainly hope you won’t misunderstand me. I first had an inquiry from the Blue Harvest people a few weeks ago. Naturally, I checked their references, and I find that while they are a new company, the investors behind the firm are persons of integrity. I then replied, expressing interest, with the result that Mr. Woodring was sent out to discuss the matter. Now I’ve nothing against new companies, but at the same time they often make mistakes due to their inexperience. They may have a slipshod sort of organization, they may make promises that they later find themselves unable to keep.

  “I’m sure you’ll understand that I’m not asking you to spy on Mr. Woodring. But he knows that you’re working for the newspaper, and that you will be reporting back to me from time to time. He’s presented a plan which I’ve accepted in good faith, and so I don’t think it’s wrong to suggest that he preserve good faith with me. If anything should come up—anything at all—that suggests his plan of operation isn’t exactly the way he presented it to me, then I expect you to have no hesitancy in telling me about it.”

  This was growing a little queer, Ted thought. If Mr. Dobson had any doubts about the scheme, why did he let the newspaper get tied up with it? But maybe this was nothing more than his natural caution in dealing with a new company and with people who were strangers to him. After all, he had spent decades building up the newspaper’s reputation in the community and couldn’t afford to let anything happen to that reputation.

  “Do you know anything about Mr. Woodring?” Ted inquired. “He seemed like a good sort to me, and it looks like he knows his onions. He was ready with an answer for anything we could say.”

  Once more the editor hesitated. “Yes, Ted, I’m inclined to agree with you. But I must admit there was one small thing that came up while I was talking with him earlier. I don’t recall just how it came about, but he said he’d worked for the firm of Beacon, Jones and Western in Chicago, about ten years ago. Of course he had no way of knowing that I know anything about the company, but it happens that I do. And the fact is that there wasn’t any firm called Beacon, Jones and Western ten years ago. Beacon and Jones only merged with Western about five years ago.”

  Ted considered, but was obliged to conclude that this wasn’t a very serious breech. “If he worked for Beacon and Jones ten years ago, it would be only natural to give the present name of the company instead of the old name, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, perhaps. Oh, yes, certainly it would. However, this does give me a chance to check up on Mr. Woodring. I know someone at Beacon, Jones and Western who has been with them for many years and would be in a position to consult the personnel records just to make sure Mr. Woodring really was employed there at that time. The whole thing would be on a strictly confidential basis, and if it turns out that everything is just as Mr. Woodring said, then there’s no harm done.”

  Once again Ted thought Mr. Dobson was being excessively cautious. But he reflected there was certainly nothing wrong in what the editor was proposing. When someone presents a business proposition which demands a high degree of confidence, he can expect that some inquiries will be made about his background.

  “I’ll call Mr. Woodring, then,” said Ted, rising. “Did he leave a number with you?”

  “He’s staying at the hotel. You should be able to reach him there.”

  Since Forestdale boasted only one hotel, Ted had no trouble putting through the call shortly after he had had his lunch at home. Mr. Woodring was out at the time, but Ted left his number with the desk clerk and asked Mr. Woodring to call him back.

  Shortly afterward Nelson phoned, eager to hear what Mr. Dobson had had to propose. When Ted explained briefly about the Blue Harvest stamps, Nelson groaned.

  “Is that all? I thought he was all ready to come up with some nice, juicy political scandal, or at least something controversial that’d have everybody taking sides and arguing. I thought there’d be somet
hing to stir up this dead town, and now it’s only some moldy old stamps. Holy cow!”

  Ted could imagine Nelson’s expression, and he laughed.

  “What’s the matter?” Nelson demanded. “Did I say something funny?”

  “Not intentionally. But it happens that these stamps do have a picture of a cow on them.”

  “That does it,” said Nelson with a deep sigh. “Well, I suppose it’ll work out all right. Women always fall for these phony schemes.”

  “What do you mean, phony?” Ted retorted. “Mr. Dobson wouldn’t be mixed up in anything crooked.”

  “I didn’t say it was crooked,” Nelson explained. “I just said it was phony. Look, I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was five years old, but some people still think they can get something for nothing. It’s human nature, I suppose.”

  “Well, they do have their budgets to watch out for,” Ted returned. “And as Mr. Woodring explained it, the plan helps the stores sell more efficiently and the saving is passed on to the buyers.”

  “Sure, the old, old game, something for nothing. Efficient? That’s only because they don’t count all the extra work. Buyers have to sort out their stamps and paste them in their books and get them redeemed, but they don’t get paid for any of that. Well, you’ll never catch me fooling around with those things.”

  Ted laughed. “Why do we have to worry about it? Merchants are pretty shrewd, and if the stamps help business they’ll keep on with them. Otherwise they’ll drop them. It’s a problem that’ll solve itself.”

  “O.K.,” Nelson agreed disinterestedly. “What’s for tomorrow, Ted? How about a drive out to the lake and—”

  “Nothing doing, boy. I’ve got a job now. Mr. Woodring needs some office help for a couple of weeks, and I’m elected.”