Murder and Misconception Read online

  “Yes, but I prefer not to tell you who she is yet.”

  “I’ll call John and see how the investigation is progressing. I’ll let you know what I find out. Jesse was pretty mad about being interrogated. She didn’t seem to know a thing about why George was outside that night. Ty is also upset about being interrogated, and Indiana is always upset period. I haven’t run into Jonesy, but my guess is that he will be interrogated as well. I’ll get back to you if I find out anything new, Russian.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  The chatter died down again. We both were lost in thought for the rest of the trip home.

  CHAPTER SIX

  INDIANAPOLIS, NOV. 10,

  RETURNED AT 0300 EST

  This wasn’t a bad trip. Once home I went straight to bed. My wife was actually at home and sawing some logs herself. I thought as I began to fade away, Good thing I’m not a thief.

  I woke and glanced at the clock. It was 1100 hours. The other side of the bed was empty, and the room was blackened with the curtains pulled. I sat up and stretched. Everything hurt. Age has been letting me know it is slowly but surely causing my decay. I wandered out into the family room hollering, “Myrtle, are you around?”

  She yelled down the steps, “I am upstairs typing. Be down in a minute. There are some pancakes and bacon in the microwave.”

  “Thanks.” That was great news. I stumbled into the kitchen and hit one minute and thirty seconds on the microwave and waited for breakfast. I grabbed the plate, added my light syrup, and proceeded back into the family room for a well-deserved breakfast at home.

  As I was finishing my plate while watching Gunsmoke, my wife came into the room.

  “What time did you get home last night. I never heard a thing?”

  “I noticed. I could be anyone coming in. You never stirred. I got home about 3 AM. Anything new around here?”

  She said that our oldest, Trish, had fallen at work, hurt her knee, but really couldn’t afford to be off. They didn’t do a CAT scan because the immediate care there didn’t have one, so she was home today with leg elevated and on ice. She added, “I hope it’s okay.” She paused, looking thoughtful.

  “The Thompsons, at church, are going through a rough spell. Bob has been hospitalized with a hernia, and Jane is still going through radiation treatments. Their boys never come around anymore. I’m taking a meal over for dinner tonight, and I offered to do up their laundry while Jane is spending so much time at the hospital. The college called to see if I would consider teaching a course this winter semester. I do enjoy teaching part-time, but I declined because of the drive and winter weather. I’m done risking my life for work. I will continue with the education projects though. It may be cold and lonely here without you, but I hate winter driving. I think I’ll start tutoring some here at home. What do you think?”

  I replied, “Whatever you want to do is fine.” I have learned through the years that this is the smartest response. “Do you think we should send Trish some money until she gets back on her feet?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, I’ll call and feel her out tomorrow. I have to be tricky. She won’t let me know right away if she is in need. I’ll be a detective tomorrow.”

  “Speaking of detectives, I feel like one since George passed away. There is a railroad dick named Henderson. He thinks that George came to an untimely end through foul play. He is investigating and interviewing some of the guys. This is upsetting our fine rail ecosystem. Anyway, I have been trying to cool down hot tempers that are starting to become infernos.”

  “Why do the guys go to you? You aren’t the union rep.”

  “Well, I am their union chaplain, which either infuriates them when they act like heathens, or if they feel threatened enough by our employer they seem to welcome my input. I’m no longer their biggest enemy. There are some questions about George’s demise that I would like to see answered as well. I sure don’t want to think someone did George in, especially someone I may know.”

  “Do you have some time at home today?” Deb asked.

  “Yep, what’s on the agenda?”

  “I’d like to start some Christmas shopping. You want to come? We can have a bite out for lunch. Then when I get home, I’ll cook for the Thompsons.’’

  “Okay, I’ll get showered and dressed, and we can be off.”

  I didn’t love Christmas shopping, but I got so little time with Deb that I did what I could when I could. I knew too many railroaders with broken marriages not to give shopping a try.

  When we got home, I carried in about a dozen plastic bags filled with “Christmas treasures.”

  I sat down and decided it was a good time to call John and see if he knew anything more about the investigation. Deb went to the kitchen to perform her culinary magic for the Thompsons.

  Before I dialed, I wrote down several questions:

  What specifically made Henderson think this was not a switch accident? What was George doing outside at the switch? Who is Henderson’s leading suspect? Have the city police been called in or the NTSB (National Transportation Safety Board) or the FRA (Federal Railroad Association)? Has the railroad claims investigation been performed?

  I looked up my contacts and found John’s number. He answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hey John, this is Ben. How’s it going with our local gendarmes?”

  “Okay. Well, Ben, since this is the second time I’ve heard from you in a week, I bet it’s about the St. Louis so-called accident.”

  “You’re right, John. Henderson’s still interviewing and rattling everyone he interviews. I have a few questions, and I thought maybe you could answer them. Then I can pass on the answers and calm a few interviewees.”

  John answered my questions as best he could. I jotted down the answers. Then I sat silently thinking about his points. I was surprised to find out that the blunt trauma to George’s head seemed to be at the wrong angle if indeed he stood at the switch properly. Another surprise? The switch was still in the switch stand keeper when the body was discovered. That fact made it appear that the switch had never been released. However, there was blood on the ball of the switch stand lever. John added, for my information, that most switch injuries are back injuries not head injuries. The police department thought this may be a murder because of the incorrect angle and the position of the switch still in its switch stand keeper.

  I also learned that no one seemed to know why George was out at the switch. And Indiana was still the leading suspect. He had no alibi for his whereabouts that night, and he made the most noise about wanting to get even with George. The city police department was informed, and the railroad claims people were working on their reports. The FRA and NTSB were notified. Henderson was lead investigator. He was interviewing any crews that were in the yard office at the time of death. John didn’t remember the names of the crew members that were there that night, but I knew it was Ty and Jonesy being interviewed. Indiana and the Russian were being interviewed and would most likely be interviewed again. Jesse, the yard master, was on duty that night, and she was a suspect as well. And finally, Chuck, the limo driver, was being interviewed since he was waiting for a crew in the yard at the time of death. Henderson had convinced the captain of the railroad police department that the case was a murder case, and he was given permission to pursue the investigation.

  I decided to put what I knew about the case in my phone under Notes. I listed all the interviewees, where they said they were between 0100 hours and 0500 hours, and what, if any, motive they may have had. At this point I really only had the Mad Russian, who said he was in St. Louis with some gal unknown to me. And a possible motive of some financial stress. I did add that two lights were out in the railyard, and one was near the Mason-Dixon switch. I needed to find out far more information about the rest of the gang being interviewed, considering it really was a murder case now.

  I thought I’d give Lurch a call and let him know what I knew. He answered on the first ring, which surprised me. I gave
him the rundown on what I had found out from John and asked if he had heard anything new in the last couple of days.

  He said, “I’ve worked with Jonesy, and Jonesy was interviewed by Henderson as well. Jonesy didn’t seem to be upset by his interview. He basically told Henderson that George had screwed him over on a few calls. This seemed par for the course for everyone who dealt with George. Jonesy also added that one of his conductors had complained about the tension on the Mason-Dixon about a month ago. He thought the problem was fixed because he hadn’t heard any more complaints. He said he and Ty had been called for the E134 for 0300, and they were in the yard office at the proper time complaining that their paperwork wasn’t there. Both Jesse and George seemed either to be in their offices or missing. They weren’t within Ty and Jonesy’s sight. So they sat around drinking coffee and griping.”

  Lurch continued. “They may have talked an hour or more and were getting impatient when they heard Jesse through her office door talking rapidly on the phone. They thought maybe something had happened in the yard, and that something was what was delaying them. Sometime soon after they heard Jesse talking, they heard sirens. At some point, they found themselves plastered against the wall while all kinds of people rushed through. I think, Ben, that’s when we came in. I sure thought this whole thing was just another railroad accident, and I am very surprised they now believe it was murder.”

  I told Lurch that I was surprised as well. At that point I was two times out and had just enough time for a nap then the work call. He was three times out and planned some dinner with Kim and then maybe some shuteye, if time allowed. Much to my surprise, Lurch said he hoped the next trip would be with me. I guess he has forgiven me my mini-lecture on marriage.

  In the kitchen I found that Deb had left to take dinner to the Thompsons. She left me a small casserole of baked spaghetti and meatballs to warm and eat at my desire. I fell asleep watching a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show. When I awoke, I was wondering if Henderson was anything like Barney Fife. I called my stand number and discovered I was now first out. I decided to eat my spaghetti and meatballs and lie down to await my work call.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  INDIANAPOLIS,

  NOV. 11, 2100 EST

  Once again I was jolted awake by the phone. This time a real person’s voice informed me that I was on the W133 at 2100 hours and with none other than my good friend Lurch. Two good deals, I thought while moving toward the shower. The trip was with Lurch, and I might be able to get some more shuteye while waiting on a siding later tonight.

  Lurch was waiting for me at the railyard. I jabbed his shoulder.

  “You sure are one lucky fellow to get me as your engineer for the night.”

  “It was either win the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes or get you as my engineer. I picked you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I hoisted myself up onto the engine. Lurch threw his grip up and began to walk the train. I focused on my own checklist for the trip. We were soon underway. It wasn’t long before our conversation drifted toward the main topic ever since George’s untimely demise—the murder investigation. I thought maybe Lurch had learned something new after our conversation about Jonesy.

  “I hear Indiana’s at the top of the list,” he said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe such a thing. “Henderson thinks Indiana isn’t being straight with him about his whereabouts that night. I expect Indiana’s waiting to be subpoenaed.” He paused as if he were trying to find a better way to say what he knew to be true. “Indiana apparently told Henderson it was none of his bloody business, slammed the office door, and left. He sure knows how to win friends and influence people.”

  I told Lurch about the notes on my phone about each interviewee, thinking that when we got placed on a siding I would add his information to my notes. There wasn’t much more to say. Lurch called a couple more signals.

  Suddenly I thought I saw something on the track. Lurch must have thought the same, because he yelled, “Put it in emergency!”

  I yelled back, “Too late, it won’t help!”

  Then, blam! A huge tree had fallen over the track. The train struck it at full speed. As the tree splintered, shards torpedoed against the engine window. From somewhere we heard a deafening blast. Both Lurch and I ducked in fear as I threw the train into emergency. A full-speed freight train does not stop on a dime. I was so afraid that it seemed to take forever, but we probably didn’t go more than a mile before it finally came to a complete halt. We had to assess the damage. Because I put the train in emergency, Lurch had to walk the entire train. We radioed the dispatcher that we had stopped and why.

  What a mess. The front window was cracked and windshield wipers were broke. There were gigantic splinters and debris all over the catwalk. There was damage to the right side of the engine. This had to have been one monster tree that we had just turned into kindling.

  Lurch and I were mystified by one problem. The rails are designed to prevent exactly such an accident. An electric current runs through the rails at all times. A computer somewhere monitors that current. If an object touches both rails at the same time, the computer triggers a rail signal that should have alerted us to stop. We had just passed two “all clear” signals. We puzzled how this could have happened. It was hard to believe that either this tree had fallen at the unlucky moment immediately before the impact, or the tree hadn’t touched both rails simultaneously.

  After reporting the damage, we were given permission to proceed. I know it took at least an hour for my heart rate to return to normal, and I think it took longer for Lurch’s heart rate to slow. He didn’t speak for an hour and a half. I have operated an engine for more than twenty years, a lot longer than Lurch has been riding the rails. I’ve hit some doozies: a man trying to commit suicide, a truck devoid of passengers, a car with one passenger, multiple deer, a cow, and many much smaller animals. It is terrible to know you can’t stop and may be taking a life or lives upon impact. It leaves a long-lasting void in the pit of the stomach. This was my first blast with a full-sized tree.

  We continued in the blackness of night without incident. Somewhere past Effingham we were told to turn onto a siding. I pulled off and was still too hyped up to do the usual and drowse. So was Lurch. By this time we needed to talk about it. We speculated what force it took to turn a full-grown oak instantaneously into matchsticks. I told Lurch the trainmaster would probably come out to greet us to inspect the damage once we reached the yard. He would view the speed tapes as well. I wasn’t worried about being pulled out of service because we were five miles an hour under speed. Lurch was happy to hear that because he could also be pulled out of service had I been violating the speed limit.

  I took out a meatball sandwich and nibbled on it. Lurch pulled out a Reuben from Arby’s. After a while I got my phone out to type some additional notes. I added Indiana as chief suspect and noted that his whereabouts at the time of George’s death were still unknown, because he had been unwilling to say. In addition, I added that Ty and Jonesy were at the yard office in the break room waiting for their paperwork, and Jesse’s whereabouts seemed to be unknown. I also added Chuck as being in the parking lot of the yard office. Lurch muttered that he was sure glad we didn’t get to the yard office until after they found George. I agreed.

  We were soon radioed to leave the siding and go on our way. Several hours later we got the word to proceed directly into the yard. This didn’t surprise me, because the powers that be would be fuming over engine damage and hoping to pin it on our negligence. As we dismounted the engine, we were greeted by the trainmaster, Tim. He wasn’t a bad sort, but he was management. He began to inspect the front engine and asked us to hang around.

  It was a beautiful night, and as Lurch went into the office to finish up the paperwork, I decided that I would sit somewhere close by and watch the inspection. I wandered over some rails and found a tailgate down on an M&W truck (Maintenance of Way, the guys that keep the tracks in good order) at the wes
t end of the yard. There seemed to be no M&W crew here, but the tailgate was down as if a crew were loading or unloading. This was unusual because Joe, the M&W man, was fastidious about his truck. I sat down on the tailgate and peered over at the Mason-Dixon switch, willing it to speak its secrets.

  Still stiff from the trip, I found it hard to get comfortable. I readjusted my seating to watch for Tim as he inspected the engine. While shifting my position, I bumped into the end of a spike maul. I turned around to push it further back into the truck and noticed some muddy-colored debris on the end of the maul. Again, this was unusual for Joe, the obsessive-compulsive M&W man. I keep a tiny a flashlight on my keyring, and I took it out to look over the spike maul. It appeared to have dirt and some strange stain on the working end. I decided rather hurriedly that I would give up watching Tim do his inspection. Henderson might be in the office, even if it was the dead of night. For that matter, maybe Joe, the M&W guy, was in there as well, since his tailgate was down. I needed to investigate.

  I grabbed my grip and walked toward the office, mulling the possibility that this dirty spike maul had anything to do with George’s death. As I entered the door I saw Andre.

  “Hey, is Joe around here tonight?”

  Andre frowned. “No, he’s been off all week on vacation. Besides, he certainly would not be around this time of the morning.”

  I told Andre Joe’s truck tailgate was down, which seemed very unusual to me. I decided not to tell him about the spike maul. I walked around the corner and saw Henderson sitting in the extra office so I knocked. He looked up and said, “Come in.”

  I entered and introduced myself. “Mr. Henderson, I’m Ben Time, an engineer out of Indianapolis.”

  Before I could continue he replied, “I know. I know you are a friend of Indiana’s as well. I may have some questions for you about that guy. Wait out in the other room. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”