The Day Steam Died

by Brown, Dick

  “Goodnight, dear.” She gave her daughter an unusually tight hug and whispered, “I know you think I’m old and insensitive about what happened. I’m not. I just love you and your children so much. Please get some rest now and go to the doctor tomorrow.”

  “Okay, I’ll get it checked. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Ann’s body screamed with pain at every movement. It was all she could do to hobble up the steps to her bedroom. Memories of her former life washed over her as she climbed up the spiral stairs. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to have a happy life, but she was sure now that she would have justice.

  Chapter 52

  “New growth will encourage more recreational facilities, expanded educational facilities and homes being built.”

  The day after

  Ann arrived at work earlier than usual the next morning. Her bandaged wrist was covered by a long sleeve blouse. She had no intention of going to the doctor—there was too much to do. Tylenol had eased the pain in her wrist, but the medicinal odor from cream she’d applied to reduce the swelling escaped into the room. She couldn’t worry about that now. The bandage on her scraped knee was hidden by her slacks. It was wrapped so tight she felt like it would rip open if she tried to walk normally.

  Ann limped to the warehouse door, took a deep breath, and unlocked the door. She clinched her fist and strode through without any sign of a limp. The crew had already moved the wooden flat. She continued her painful effort not to reveal her injuries walking across the warehouse floor.

  Ann’s nerves began to fray; she wasn’t sure she turned off the copy machine. Did she leave Joey’s trip note on the copy machine? She had to let herself in and make sure she’d replaced the papers exactly where they were on his desk; the video cassette was re-filed in its proper place and check to make sure the copy machine was off. He would notice if anything was different or was out of place.

  Relieved that Joey wasn’t back yet, she headed straight for his office door, avoiding being seen by Ronnie or the crew of workers. They stamped the cases, getting ready for another day of loading the increasing number of box cars that seem to get added each month.

  A quick glance back at the work crew assured her they were too busy to be paying any attention to her. Ann summoned up all her courage. With key in hand, she turned to unlock Joey’s office.

  “What are you doing out here, Ann?”

  Ann jumped and turned to find Ronnie standing right behind her. “Damn it, Ronnie, do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people? You scared me half to death.”

  “Nope, just wonderin’ what you’re doing out here,” Ronnie replied matter-of-factly.

  “Nothing in particular. It gets a little lonely in there now that Marie is gone. Thought I’d come out here and see what’s going on. I have more responsibility now and should be more aware of what you all do, that’s all.”

  “We’re doin’ the same thing we’ve been doin’ ever since you came here, just more of it. If you’re lookin’ for Joey, he ain’t back yet. Don’t know when he will be. Knock yourself out, though. Watch all you want. I’ve got to get back to work.” Ronnie turned and yelled at the forklift drivers to be careful not to damage those boxes. “You have a good day now.” He nodded to Ann and shuffled off toward the dock.

  Still shaken by Ronnie sneaking up on her and not sure if she left Joey’s office the way she found it, Ann returned to the front office. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Seated at her desk, she took several deep breaths to calm down. She opened her purse that could have doubled as a saddle bag and fished patrol Officer John Cartier’s card out.

  She dialed the number, expecting to hear Officer Cartier’s voice on the other end. “Dispatch, how can I help you?” a husky female voice rose above the sound of other voices in the background.

  Startled at not hearing Cartier’s warm voice, Ann stammered, “Uh, yes, I’m trying to reach Officer Cartier.”

  “What’s the nature of your call, ma’am?”

  “I need to talk to him about the Marie Short’s case.”

  “Ma’am, I can connect you to Detective Connell. He was lead on that case.”

  “No, I just need to speak to Officer Cartier. He gave me his card and said if I ever had any questions to call him. Can you help me?”

  “Is this an emergency?”

  “No.”

  “If this isn’t an emergency, all I can do is page him and give him your number. He’s on patrol now.”

  “Thank you. That will be fine. My name is Ann Blackmon and the number is 692-7268.”

  “I’ll page him. You have a nice day, ma’am.”

  Ann busied herself trying to organize Marie’s file drawer while checking to see if she could find any other evidence in the process. Lunch approached and Officer Cartier hadn’t returned her call.

  Her nerves had been on edge ever since she broke into Joey’s office. A hot bowl of chicken noodle soup was just the thing to calm her down. The office’s electric hot plate had a pan of soup bubbling in a matter of minutes.

  Her phone shattered the office silence, nearly causing Ann to spill the soup she was pouring. She knew she was playing a dangerous game that could get her into serious trouble if Joey had the slightest suspicion of what she was planning.

  “S & T Distributing.” Ann spoke sharply, wincing when she unconsciously lifted the receiver with her injured wrist.

  “Ann, have you gone to the doctor yet?”

  “No, Momma, I haven’t,” she said, disappointment dripping off her words.

  “I wish you would get that wrist looked at. It could be broken. It could get—”

  “Momma, I don’t have time to argue with you. I’m expecting an important call. I’m sorry about being so grouchy lately. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Why don’t we all go out and have pizza for dinner tonight? How does that sound?”

  “Fine, but I’m worried about you.”

  “I know, but don’t be. See you after work.”

  As soon as Ann hung up, the phone rang again. She picked it up before a second ring, with her left hand this time.

  “S & T Distributing,”

  “This is Officer Cartier. May I speak to Mrs. Blackmon?”

  “This is Ann Blackmon. Thank you for returning my call.”

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Blackmon?”

  Ann sucked in a breath and adopted her most charming tone of voice. “I have a favor to ask. Can you take a license tag number and find who the owner is?”

  “Sure. I have a friend back at the department that owes me a favor. I can have it for you tomorrow. Is that soon enough, Mrs. Blackmon?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you very much. And please, call me Ann.”

  “No thanks necessary. That’s part of my job. I’ll call you in the morning. You have a good day, Mrs. . . . excuse me, Ann.”

  Chapter 53

  “Financial aid will be made available as a depressed area to help with your resurrection and nothing will be spared to make that happen, you have my word on it.”

  The breakup

  Candi solemnly gathered her cameras and few personal items she kept in her office in the photo lab area. She was sad on a day that she should have been celebrating. Not good at goodbyes, Candi dreaded to face Rick when he arrived.

  “You sure you won’t change your mind?” Dan asked, watching his best photographer pack up her office next to the dark room where she’d turned out prize winning photos.

  She turned to give a snarky answer, but when she saw the look on Dan’s face, she just said, “I’m sure.”

  “Good morning everyone.” Rick greeted staffers in the bull pen beginning their morning routine of coffee, checking their stories in the morning paper and preparing for a meeting for the days as
signments. “Don’t you just love this weather?” he asked of no one in particular.

  He popped into Dan’s office to find it empty. Walking down the hallway toward Candi’s office, he carried out the daily charade that was supposed to fool everyone into thinking that because he and Candi came in at different times, they weren’t living together.

  Rick didn’t think it too strange to see Dan standing in Candi’s doorway, probably talking about a photo assignment. Since the fiasco at the warehouse in Winston, he and Candi hadn’t worked as many assignments together. She had become more distant, but they still enjoyed each other’s company most of the time, especially in bed after some wine and a good steak dinner at Soloman’s.

  “Morning Dan, Candi. What’s on for today?”

  “Good morning, Rick,” Dan said. “Why don’t you stop by my office later?”

  “Sure, Dan. What’s it about?”

  Dan just smiled then quickly walked away, leaving Rick with a confused look on his face.

  “What’s with our boss this morning? And . . .” Rick stopped in the middle of his question when he saw Candi gathering her equipment. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing up my stuff.”

  “I can see that. Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  “Yeah, there is. I thought about telling you weeks ago that I had applied for an overseas assignment as a freelance photographer for Time magazine. I’m going to Africa to cover the famine and genocide that nobody seems to care about. I didn’t see any point in telling you unless I got the assignment.”

  “And I’m the first you’ve told?”

  She shook her head. “Dan knows.”

  “You couldn’t tell me, but you told Dan?” Rick’s voice cracked. “Why?”

  “He’s my boss. You’re not. I gave him an early heads-up that I might be leaving soon. It would be on short notice after I got the offer. The offer came in yesterday’s mail.”

  Stunned by the unexpected news, Rick had a flashback to the night Ann told him she was moving. For a moment he was speechless, shaking his head in disbelief. He threw his hands up in the air and searched for words that wouldn’t come. He moved closer to Candi, almost shouting in her face.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me or at least give me some warning about your plan! So, you’re leaving today, just like that?”

  Candi stood silently, avoiding Rick’s eyes. “Are you through?” she said when he stopped to catch his breath.

  “Yeah, I guess so since I don’t get a vote. When did you decide on this great new adventure?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I told you in the very beginning that I wanted to go to Africa. Do something that was really meaningful.”

  “Oh, you mean meaningful like getting killed.” His voice softened, eyes pleading with her. “You’re such a bleeding heart, Candi. You can’t save the world by yourself.”

  “Maybe not, but I have to try to make a difference. I wasn’t doing that here, never would have. You never took me seriously about my ambition to go to Africa. I didn’t tell you I had applied for the job, because you would have tried to talk me out of it like you’re doing now.”

  “What about us? What about our relationship? doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “What about us, Rick? You knew I wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship. That’s not something I want in my life right now. I tried to tell you, but you weren’t listening. Look, I really care for you . . . a lot. You’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever know and about the only man I trust. We had some really great times together. If I ever decide to settle down, it’ll have to be with somebody like you, but just not now. I’m sorry to have to tell you like this. I didn’t see it happening any other way. I would like for us to still be friends because you are truly my best friend.”

  “Wow, I haven’t heard that line since high school. Dan and Wil are my friends. I don’t want you as a friend. I invested a lot of trust and hope for a future with you. I love you.”

  Rick leaned toward Candi with his arms outstretched, his heart breaking before her eyes. She backed away.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you. You helped me work out some of my hang-ups, and I thank you for that. Hurting you is the last thing I wanted to do. I honestly thought you understood I wasn’t here for the long haul. It’s better this way, trust me.

  “I’ve got everything packed up and will be cleared out of the apartment when you get home this evening. I’ll send you a postcard of me sitting on a water buffalo, and you can write me,” she said trying to lighten the scene. “Take care of yourself. I hope you nail Tank. Then maybe your soul will be free to have a life. Goodbye, Rick.”

  Candi slung a loaded duffel bag over her shoulder and brushed by Rick, avoiding his eyes.

  He stood by, motionless, fighting back tears and the urge to wrap his arms around her. Rather than be humiliated when she rejected his spontaneous impulse, he let her go. She left the office without a word to the other staffers.

  Rick followed her to the front door.

  He was left with only his confused thoughts swimming around in his head being sucked down into a vortex of despair. The only two women he ever loved had walked away from him with no warning. Beating back doubts that he could ever give of himself so completely again, Rick tried to shake off the reality of what had just happened. He forced himself to stop by Dan’s office rather than run after Candi like some late night TV movie.

  “I’m sorry, Rick. I couldn’t tell you,” Dan said before Rick could speak. “She made me promise not to say anything to you. I really had high hopes for you two.

  “So did I,” Rick admitted. “Down the road I even thought we might get married. She’d come a long way in trusting me. I thought we’d shared all our secrets, broken down the walls we’d built around our feelings. She shared her bad experience in college, the death of her parents, and that bastard shrink. He really messed her up for good. This is her way of dealing with it. I don’t think she truly realizes what danger she is putting herself into in Africa. After Belgium turned over colonial rule in the Congo, the government failed. They’re in the middle of a horrible civil war and famine that the U. N. won’t get involved in. I hate the thought of seeing her in a headline someday as a murdered American photojournalist instead of a Pulitzer Prize winner.”

  The two friends sat across from each other at a loss for words. Dan finally said, “Tank is going to give the dedication speech at the old Coastline Railway Shops facility in your hometown as a future Steam History Museum in a few weeks. Take some time off and then pick up his trail again.

  “Also, there’s talk about a cigarette tax increase this session. He’s been adamant against any tobacco taxes during this term. He may get careless. Check it out. Who knows, we may get lucky.”

  “Thanks, but I need to stay busy and not get depressed.”

  “Take a few days and start that book you’re always talking about writing. That should keep your mind occupied. I want you to be one-hundred percent when you come back.”

  “I’ll take the rest of today off to sort things out and be back tomorrow.” Rick stood and nodded to Dan. “She really blindsided me, Dan. I never saw this coming,” he said then left the building.

  Chapter 54

  “The General Assembly has gone to bat for you and wants you to succeed and prosper in the new world of technology.”

  The aftershock

  Rick left the office with a feeling of déjà vu. He walked for blocks in shoes like lead weights. With no memory of how he got there, Rick found himself sitting on a bar stool in Wimpey’s, a hangout he’d frequented as a student.

  Tap beer was cheap with all the peanuts you could eat. Pool tables in back were barely visible through smoke that hung beneath green shades hanging o
ver the tables. Unshaven faces of third-shift plant workers unwound with a game of pool. They inhaled from their cigarettes and pumped smoke out their nostrils as they stretched across the table, working their cue sticks over their left hand perches. Each shot was carefully laid out, a display of the mind games each player used against their opponent, just like Paul Newman in The Hustler.

  Rick indulged in self-abuse of the thing he most disliked about Candi: cigarette smoke. His eyes burned until he had enough to drink, until he didn’t notice the pain anymore. Rick knocked down boilermakers as fast as the bartender poured them until he couldn’t even sit up straight.

  “Hey, buddy, I’m cutting you off,” the bartender said to a slumped-over-the-bar Rick. He shook Rick to make sure he was okay. “Do you have anybody that can take you home?”

  Rick raised his head off the bar. “Whazzat you said?”

  “Do you have somebody that can drive you home? You’re too drunk to drive.”

  “Don’t have my car. What time is it?”

  “It’s four thirty. You’ve been here all day and haven’t eaten anything. Give me a number and I’ll call somebody for you.”

  Rick searched his pockets. Finally pulled out a pen and notepad he always carried. He had difficulty holding the pen steady enough to scribble Wil’s office number. Fifteen minutes later, Wil was shaking Rick awake.

  “Hey, big brother, what’s going on? Come on, I’ll take you to the house and get you fixed up.”