Chapter 17: Dangerous Times

I was offered the Assistant Manager's job at Carlton Books almost by default. They had found an experienced book seller from Vancouver who had sold out and moved to the Comox Valley. He wanted something to keep him occupied and decided to take the Manager's position at the new Carlton store. I got the impression from him that both Carlton and the job were as much on trial as he was.

They had no one else apply that had any retail management experience besides the two of us and I was hired at a salary that was considerably less than I was making at Coastwide. I was on probation for three months to see if I would get a permanent position, but at least the job was interesting and the raise after the probation ended would bring the salary up to a more acceptable level. Still not what I had been earning previously, however.

I was introduced to Jonathan (not John) Moir, the new manager of Carlton Books in Courtenay and recognized immediately that he was English. Very English, complete with an Oxford-Cambridge accent, but a likeable personality and very knowledgeable. The Carlton system was completely computerized which was good to see. They had their own system and we could look up the inventory of any store at any time to find if a specific book or periodical was available. Very handy.

It took the two of us about half a day to learn what was required to manage the store. They had a corporate-wide system that was all laid out in an operating manual barely five pages thick. Our principal task would be to train and help the staff cope with customer requests. When Jonathan and I sat down at the end of the first day, we didn't see any obstacles to operating the store that were beyond our experience. As far as my new boss was concerned, that was a good thing. He wasn't planning on putting in twelve hour days as he had when he owned his own store.

Accounting would be looked after in Toronto with oversight on a weekly basis by telephone and computer, and semi-annual audits by Toronto staff. I assumed this had proven to be adequate for both the company and its independent auditor. The one unknown would be the employees. They would be hired locally and would have to be trained and evaluated, particularly through the first three months. I knew from experience at Eddie's West Van store that not everyone worked out. For some, it wasn't their kind of job. For others, they didn't have the necessary people skills either for the customers or their fellow employees.

"I'm of a mind to hire more mature people, Steve," Jonathan said as we discussed our task. "Our customers tend to be more mature and usually have a good idea of what they want. We do want a mix, of course, but if we ended up with two-thirds mature, one-third young, I think we'd be all right."

"Well, it's certainly different than groceries, so I'll bow to your experience. I don't have a problem either way. Let's just try and get the best people we can get."

"Agreed," he smiled. We were going to get along fine.

The hiring process began with an ad in the local paper. Within three days, we had over one hundred applications, many of them from people who had retired and moved to the Comox Valley. It looked like hiring mature people was going to be the least of our problems.

"North Island College looks like a good source for part time help," I said.

"Agreed, let's contact them and post a notice. We may even find a full time employee or two."

The process of screening résumés and interviewing seemed endless, but by the end of the following week, Jonathan was reasonably satisfied that he had adequate staff to open the store and welcome our first customers. We had conducted the interviews separately, comparing notes and then deciding, in or out. Jonathan was much better at evaluating the older people of course, but he did very well with the college applicants too. For me, it was a learning process. The handful of people I had hired in Vernon couldn't compare to the screening and interviewing required for the Carlton store.

We opened the store as planned and the first couple of days were hectic. We had lots of customers and potential customers along with the usual browsers. The national coffee-house chain that rented part of the balcony space proved to be very popular. When we looked at the receipts from the first two days, Jonathan was more than satisfied. The computer reference system impressed our customers as well. If we didn't have it, we knew where to find it ... pronto.

Dory and I settled into a routine around the apartment. She was home before I was almost every evening as I was usually home by six o'clock. We would share the meal preparation and eat at seven most nights. If she had papers to grade, I left her to it until no later than ten o'clock when I would shut her down and order her (lovingly) to get ready for bed.

There was little for me to do in the evening and I began bringing books home from work. We had a television set, but with the exception of a couple of programs, we seldom paid much attention to it. It was a time of decreasing daylight and daylight saving time would end soon. We would be spending most of our time indoors. It was mid-October when the shopping center announced a change in policy, beginning December 1^st. They would be staying open on Thursday and Friday night until nine o'clock. I didn't have to be too smart to realize what that meant.

Jonathan and I sat down and worked out a new schedule. We were going to need some additional staff, but most would be part time. However, we needed to canvass the permanent staff to see who was willing to work the later shifts on those two days.

"We will need a full complement of people from four through nine on those two days," Jonathan said. "We can't do it with just part-time people and one of us will have to be there to supervise."

"Why don't we split the duties?" I suggested. "We can alternate nights or alternate weeks."

He sat back and thought about it for a minute or so. I didn't interrupt.

"I think ... for the sake of continuity ... that we'd be best to alternate weeks. Perhaps even two weeks per turn?" he tried.

I nodded. "Yes. Two week turns would permit vacation time. Any indication they plan on opening on Sundays?"

"Not yet, but it seems to be happening everywhere else, so I think we should prepare for it."

"Does a management trainee make any sense ... when we've evaluated our staff that is?"

He smiled. "It makes a lot of sense. I doubt Sundays will be terribly busy except around the Christmas season, so that would give us some relief. Good idea, Steve."

When December rolled around, we had worked out our management schedule. I would work the first two weekends of the month, while Jonathan worked the second two. He would get the benefit of the Christmas closing, and I would get the benefit of New Years. Dory wasn't delirious about my working weekends, but she understood the needs of the store and didn't make a fuss about it. She would be off from the third week of December to the middle of the first week of January. We would find some time to be together.

We took a couple of extra days at Christmas to visit our parents and share the holiday with them. Dory already knew she was off probation at the school and I was about to have my salary raised at the book store. We weren't rich, but we could pay our bills and put a little away for a rainy day or something special. We were happy and I was at least satisfied at Carlton Books. Working with Jonathan was pleasant and instructive. We made a good team.

I had been catching a ride to and from work with one of my neighbours and using our car on the weekend. The time had come when we needed a second vehicle. I found a used, four cylinder Ford Ranger pickup with less than fifty thousand kilometres on the clock.

It appeared to be good condition, but a check by a qualified mechanic would verify it. It had a removable canopy over the box that made it useful for hauling things in rainy weather. It didn't stretch our budget much, so after confirming it was mechanically sound, I purchased it and insured it for both Dory and me. In the back of my mind was the ability to use it if we wanted to go camping in the summer.

It was early February and I was working the evening shift on a Friday night. I wasn't terribly busy and I had time to go around the store and make sure everything was in order and looking the way I thought it should. It was a habit I'd acquired in Vernon and didn't want to give it up.

I heard Sherry, the cashier, call my name and I walked to her.

"Phone call for you, Steve. She sounds upset."

"Hello?"

"Stevie, can ... you ... come ... home?" a sobbing Dory asked almost inaudibly.

"Dory? Are you all right?"

"No ... please ... come home," she begged.

"I'm on my way," I said, hanging up. "Sherry, can you look after locking up the store tonight? I've got an emergency at home."

"Sure, I have a key. I'll take care of it. You get home to your wife quick-like. She sounds pretty upset."

"Thanks. Call me if there's any problem. If you can't get me, call Jonathan."

I left the store confident that Sherry could handle the closing-up chores. I was far more worried about what was wrong with Dory.

I didn't waste any time heading home but it still took me twenty minutes to get there. It seemed like twenty hours at the time.

"Dory ... where are you?" I called as I entered the front door. The house was dark, but I could hear sobbing from the rear. She was in the bedroom, I realized.

As I ran into our bedroom, I flicked on the light and there was Dory, huddled in a foetal position on the bed, facing away from me. I went to her and held her.

"Dory ... what's wrong? What's happened?"

"Rand ... he ... he ... groped me. He tried to have sex with me," she cried, now hiccupping.

"Rand Bentley? When? How?"

"We were supposed to stop at the pub for one drink after school. Rand and Phyllis and two other teachers besides me. The others had to be home to make supper and just Rand and I were left. I wasn't in a rush because I knew you were working late. When I decided to go, he walked with me out into the parking lot. Then ... then ... he ... he grabbed me and ... he ... he put his hand on my breast and under my skirt. He touched me before ... before I could hit him," she cried, breaking down into continuous sobs.

"Okay, okay, you're safe now, love. I won't let anything happen to you. Did anyone else see what happened?"

She shook her head. "No ... I don't think so. It was dark ... in the parking lot."

"What happened when you hit him?" I asked, trying to understand exactly what happened to her.

"He pushed me against the car. Hard. I yelled at him and kneed him. That's when he ran away."

Dory was sitting up, now, hanging onto me for dear life. What had happened had frightened her badly and I was just now beginning to feel the anger. Anger directed at Randolph Bentley, Headmaster and sexual predator. I needed to think about what to do next. Police? Her word against his and likely would result in her getting fired or being forced to quit her job. No ... no way. I needed a better option. And then I remembered something.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number in the book.

"Paul Ildebrun speaking."

"Mr. Ildebrun, my name is Steve Black. I was given your name by Arnold Sung as someone who could handle legal matters. I was also told that you were ex-RCMP. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is. What are you calling about?"

"My wife is a teacher at the new Surgenor Academy in Comox. Tonight, she was sexually assaulted by the headmaster when they were alone. He didn't rape her, but from her description, that was his intent. I need some advice on how to handle this."

"I see. Is your wife in the hospital?"

"No. She came home and called me at work. I've just heard about what happened in the last ten minutes."

"Mr. Black, I want you to take your wife to St. Joseph's emergency ward and ask for an examination. I'll meet you there in about fifteen minutes. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir. Right away. We're out in Bates Beach, so we may be a little longer getting there."

"Don't worry. Just bring her in and I'll meet you there."

I felt better just talking to him. He didn't hesitate and gave me clear instructions.

"Come, Dory. We're going to the hospital and make sure you're all right. A lawyer is going to meet us there. He'll know what to do about Rand."

She nodded, tears dripping from her reddened eyes. I helped her into her coat, got her purse, then walked her to the car.

I had never met Paul Ildebrun before, but I had no trouble identifying him. He was my height, lean, fairly handsome, and in his late thirties to early forties.

"Are you Paul Ildebrun?" I asked, extending my hand.

"Yes ... and you are Steve Black?"

I nodded. "This is my fiancée, Doryanna Paulson."