“When do these operators go off duty?”
“At five o’clock.”
“And three more come on the new shift?”
“No. Just two. There isn’t that much business at night.”
“The new shift works until-one in the morning?”
“That’s right.”
“And two more operators come on duty until nine o’clock in the morning?”
“No. There’s just one during the graveyard watch.” She put on her glasses, took them off again a second later. “Are you nervous, Joan?”
“Yes. Terribly.”
“Don’t be nervous. Relax. Be calm.”
Some of the stiffness went out of her slender neck and Shoulders. She smiled.
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he said. “Will there be three operators on duty during the daylight shift?”
“No. On weekends there’re never more than two.”
“Joan, I see you’ve got a notebook and pen next to your typewriter. I want you to prepare for me a list of all the operators
who are scheduled to work tonight and during the first two shifts tomorrow. I want their names and their home telephone numbers. Understood?”
“Oh, yes.”
She went to her desk.
Salsbury crossed to the front door. He studied West Main Street through the six-inch-square panes of glass.
Presaging a summer storm, the wind whipped the trees mercilessly, as if trying to drive them to shelter.
There was no one in sight on either side of the street. Salsbury looked at his watch. 1:15
“Hurry up, you stupid bitch.” She looked up. “What?”
“I called you a stupid bitch. Forget that. Just finish the list. Quickly now.”
She busied herself with pen and notebook.
Bitches, he thought. Rotten bitches. All of them. Every last one of them. Always fouling him up. Nothing but bitches.
An empty lumber truck went past on Main Street, heading toward the mill.
“Here it is,” she said.
He returned to the customer service counter, took the notebook page from her hand, and glanced at it. Seven names. Seven telephone numbers. He folded the paper and put it in his shirt pocket. “Now, what about repairmen? Don’t you have linemen or repairmen on duty all the time?”
“We have a crew of four men,” she said. “There are two on the day shift and two on the evening shift. There’s no one regularly scheduled for night shift or for the weekends, but every one of the crew’s on call in case of emergencies.”
“And there are two men on duty now?” “Yes.”
“Where are they?”
“Working on a problem at the mill.” “When will they be back?”
“By three. Maybe three thirty.”
“When they come in, you send them over to Bob Thorp’s
office.” He had already decided to make the police chief’s office his headquarters for the duration of the crisis. “Understood, Joan?”
Yes.
“Write down for me the names and home telephone numbers of the other two repairmen?’
She needed half a minute for that assignment.
“Now listen closely, Joan.”
Resting her arms on the counter, she leaned toward him. She seemed almost eager to hear what he had to tell her.
“Within the next few minutes, the wind will blow down the lines between here and Bexford. It won’t be possible for anyone in Black River or up at the mill to make or receive a long-distance call.”
“Oh,” she said wearily. “Well, that sure is going to ruin my day. It sure is?’
“Complaints, you mean?”
“Each one nastier than the one before it.”
“If people complain, tell them that linemen from Bexford are working on the break. But there was a great deal of damage. The repairs will take hours. The job might not be done until tomorrow afternoon. Is that clear?”
“They won’t like it.”
“But is that clear?”
“It’s clear.”
“All right.” He sighed. “In a moment I’m going to go back to talk with the girls at the switchboard. Then upstairs to see your boss and his secretary. When I leave this room, you’ll forget everything we’ve said. You’ll remember me as a lineman from Bexford. I was just a lineman from Bexford who stopped in to tell you that my crew was already on the job. Understood?”
“Go back to work.”
She returned to her desk.
He walked behind the counter. He left the room by the hall door and went to talk to the switchboard operators.