Tracy dropped into an easy-going characterization. "You're the people
who sell the soap?"
"That is correct. What can I do for you?"
Tracy said easily, "Why, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the
enterprise."
"To what end, sir? You'd be surprised how busy a man I am."
Tracy said, "Suppose I'm from the Greater New York _News-Times_ looking
for a story?"
The other tapped a finger on his desk impatiently. "Pardon me, but in
that case I would be inclined to think you a liar. The _News-Times_
knows upon which side its bread is spread. Its advertisers include all
the soap companies. It does not dispense free advertising through its
news columns."
Tracy chuckled wryly, "All right. Let's start again." He brought forth
his wallet, flicked through various identification cards until he found
the one he wanted and presented it. "Frank Tracy is the name," he said.
"Department of Internal Revenue. There seems to be some question as to
your corporation taxes."
"Oh," the other said, obviously taken aback. "Please have a chair." He
read the authentic looking, but spurious credentials. Tracy took the
proffered chair and then sat and looked at the other as though it was
his turn.
"My name is Flowers," the Freer Enterprises man told him, nervously.
"Frederic Flowers. Frankly, this is my first month at the job and I'm
not too well acquainted with all the ramifications of the business." He
moistened his lips. "I hope there is nothing illegal--" He let the
sentence fade away.
Tracy reclaimed his false identity papers and put them back into his
wallet before saying easily, "I really couldn't say, as yet. Let's have
a bit of questions and answers and I'll go further into the matter."
Flowers regained his confidence. "No reason why not," he said quickly.
"So far as I know, all is above board."
Frank Tracy let his eyes go about the room. "Why are you established,
almost secretly, you might say, in this business backwoods of the city?"
"No secret about it," Flowers demurred. "Merely the cheapest rent we
could find. We cut costs to the bone, and then shave the bone."
"Um-m-m. I've spoken to one of your salesmen, a Warren Dickens, and I
suppose he gave me the standard sales talk. I wonder if you could
elaborate on your company's policies, its goals, that sort of thing."
"Goals?"
"You obviously expect to make money, somehow or other, though I don't
see that peddling soap at three cents a bar has much of a future. There
must be some further angle."
Flowers said, "Admittedly, soap is just a beginning. Among other things,
it's given us a mailing list of satisfied customers. Consumers who can
then be approached for future purchases."
* * * * *
Frank Tracy relaxed in his chair, reached for pipe and tobacco and let
the other go on. But his eyes had narrowed, coldly.
Flowers wrapped himself up in his subject. "Mr. Tracy, you probably have
no idea of the extent to which the citizens of Greater America are being
victimized. Let me use but one example." He came quickly to his feet,
crossed to a small toilet which opened off the office and returned with
a power-pack electric shaver which he handed to Tracy.
Tracy looked at it, put it back on the desk and nodded. "It's the brand
I have," he said agreeably.
"Yes, and millions of others. What did you pay for it?"
Frank Tracy allowed himself a slight smirk. "As a matter of fact, I got
mine through a discount outfit, only twenty-five dollars."
"_Only_ twenty-five dollars, eh, when the retail price is supposedly
thirty-five?" Flowers was triumphant. "A great bargain, eh? Well, let
me give you a rundown, Mr. Tracy."
He took a quick breath. "True, they're advertised to retail at
thirty-five dollars. And stores that sell them at that rate make a
profit of fifty per cent. The regional supply house, before them, knocks
down from forty to sixty per cent, on the wholesale price. Then the
trade name distributor makes at least fifty per cent on the sales to the
regional supply houses."
"Trade name distributor?" Tracy said, as though ignorant of what the
other was talking about. "You mean the manufacturer?"
"No, sir. That razor you just looked at bears a trade name of a company
that owns no factory of its own. It buys the razors from a large
electrical appliances manufacturing complex which turns out several
other name brand electric razors as well. The trade name company does
nothing except market the product. Its budget, by the way, calls for an
expenditure of six dollars on every razor for national advertising."
"Well, what are you getting at?" Tracy said impatiently.
Frederic Flowers had reached his punch line. "All right, we've traced
the razor all the way back to the manufacturing complex which made it.
Mr. Tracy, that razor you bought at a discount bargain for twenty-five
dollars cost thirty-eight cents to produce."