Murder at Fire Bay by Ron Hess Read Free Book Online Page A

of a Postal Service employee and about all those grievances that were filed against her. I guess I’m trying to get a handle on morale and what undercurrents there might be. Maybe I don’t want any filed against me. Bad for my resume.”
    I hoped that last remark about my resume would lighten the situation, but it didn’t. The look I got from her went from friend to foe.  
    She was now the union steward, watchful, and using only well chosen words. “The grievances were legit.”
    “I don’t doubt it. But sometimes they can cover up even worse problems.”
    Her eyes moved back and forth over my face. “Are you a postal inspector or are you working for them?” she asked.
    “Neither. I am what I seem. A temporary O.I.C. flown in from Howes Bluff way out in Western Alaska. You call there and talk to the temporary O.I.C. if you don’t believe me. She is my wife. Better yet, call the commercial store, I know the manager by first name. On the other hand, I would like to know if I’m walking into a buzz saw. That’s why I’m talking with the union steward. Have I . . . Martha? Walked into a buzz saw?”
    She looked away at this last question and bit into a piece of toast. After chewing a few seconds, she cleared her throat. “I don’t think so, as long as you play by the rules in the contract.”
    I smiled. “I darn near have the contract memorized.”
    “Oh, really? What’s section C cover?”
    I told her, and her fork fell to her plate right into the middle of the remaining over- easy egg yolk.
    “Ha! A manager that actually knows the contract.”
    “Don’t they all?” I asked.
    It was her turn to smile. “Yeah, sure they do. You’re the first one who could tell me anything. Most managers just pass grievances along to somebody else.”
    I nodded. There was some truth to what she said.
    “Martha, one thing I have learned the hard way, and that’s to be as direct and truthful as I can when dealing with Postal Service matters. Especially with my stewards.” I took a deep breath. “What can you tell me about the previous supervisor?”
    “Her name was Gloria Plinski.”
    “Polish?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “That was her married name. She kept it after her divorce. The husband remarried. She chose to remain single.”
    “Meaning she could have remarried?”
    “Oh, yes. She was nice looking. She simply never quite trusted men after her divorce.”  
    I nodded. It was an old story.
    “Why all the grievances?” I prodded.
    Martha drew a deep breath. I’m sure she was wondering where my questioning was headed.
    “Gloria was your above-average postal employee. When the supervisor before her quit, the O.I.C. made her the temporary supervisor. That’s when she began to change. I’m sure you’ve seen how power can do that.”
    I nodded.  
    She went on. “She began hounding everybody. She trailed me around sometimes two hours at a time. If a person made a misstep, they would get a letter of reprimand, instead of a talking-to. So of course I became involved in negotiations, which soaked up a lot of time. Sometimes she’d pull in a part-time flex person and then tell them she didn’t need them. As you know, when this is done, a person is guaranteed at least two hours whether they work or not. There were other things, too numerous to mention. I had no choice but to start papering the walls with grievances. She got after me with letters of reprimand. One of them stated I had a bad odor problem. That was so stupid and untrue. The letter was withdrawn because she had no witnesses.
    “Sometimes, I’m sure that bastard of an O.I.C. put pressure on her to try to get me to say or do something wrong. He didn’t like it when he came on to me and I told him to take a flying leap.”  
    While Martha went through this litany of problems, I realized there were a lot of people who might carry grudges. But were the grudges serious enough to commit murder?
    “Uh, Leo, why all the questions about Gloria?