The Day Steam Died

by Brown, Dick

  “Watch yourself, young man. You are flirting with slander. If you have any more questions, why don’t you ask Mr. Johnson? Your time is up. I’m late for my meeting.”

  Senator Palmer disappeared behind a door labeled Members Only.

  Back at the Times Herald, Rick and Ben huddled in the editor’s office.

  “I’m telling you, Ben, something really smells about this tobacco tax issue. Senator Palmer was flippant at my first question but freaked when I bored in on the smuggling angle.”

  “Maybe so, but he had a good point. If you want to know why the General Assembly vetoes any cigarette tax bill, why don’t you ask Tank?”

  “That could tip our hand even if he agreed to an interview.”

  “You’ll never know unless you ask. Maybe we’ve been too easy on him all this time. If our anonymous informer has any usable evidence on the S & T operation, you could squeeze him a little.”

  “I’d like nothing better. When do you think we should bring the SBI in on this fulltime? Wil already knows what we have so far. There weren’t prints on the note, other than ours. I don’t feel like getting hit on a withholding of evidence charge.”

  Ben cocked his head like he always did to make a point. “Wait until you have something solid but can’t verify it. Then let them do the grunt work with the understanding we get exclusive rights to the story. We’re on the same team, but they can go places we can’t.”

  “I think Wil can get an exclusive for us.” Rick returned to his desk and flipped through his mail. Next to the last piece, there was another handwritten letter with no return address. “Hey, boss, I think this is another letter from our anonymous contact.”

  Rick took the letter, grasping a corner with his thumb and index finger. He carefully dropped it on Ben’s desk. “Wait until I get some rubber gloves from the photo lab.”

  The thick rubber gloves he eventually got made opening the envelope difficult. Rick held the envelope while Ben sliced it open with his letter opener. Rick shook the envelope and a folded note fell on Ben’s desk.

  “Go ahead,” Ben said. “It’s your letter. Read it.”

  Rick couldn’t get the finger of his glove under the edge of the note to pick it up. Frustrated, he blew on the edge of the paper and raised the top half high enough to grab it with his pincher fingers.

  “We would never make it as detectives,” Rick said with a chuckle. His hands shook as he held the note and read its contents to Ben.

  Mr. Barnes,

  A witness of the S & T operations of illegal cigarette shipments to New York was murdered by the manager of the warehouse. His locked files contain all the records of the business. Enclosed is a copy of the note he wrote to make it look like the woman committed suicide. Also a sample of a letter written on his typewriter with the same damaged letter ’o‘. If the police investigate him for the murder, his files can legally be searched with a warrant. There are a dozen illegal immigrants working in the warehouse, if that helps get a search warrant.

  You do what you think is best.

  “If this is true,” Rick said, “we have enough to get into those files and that would nail Sam and implicate Tank.”

  “If is a big word. We’re going to have to show this to the SBI and let them handle it from now on.”

  “I’ll get this over to Wil’s office and see how he wants to handle it. I’ll check you later,” Rick said then hurried out of Ben’s office.

  Rick could hardly contain himself as he fought downtown Raleigh traffic, looking for a parking place near the SBI building. He hummed in the elevator up to the third floor and there was a bounce in his step down the hall to Wil’s office. He entered the office with a grin that broke into laughter.

  “Okay, big brother, what’s this great new lead you have for me that you couldn’t talk about on the phone?”

  Rick handed the note in plastic photo sleeve to Wil. He stood back in anticipation of confirmation that the information was good enough to move on.

  Wil put on cotton gloves, read it over, and then asked, “Do you have any way of verifying who sent this? If it’s legitimate, I need to be able to convince my captain to act on it.

  Rick shook his head. “I have no way of finding out who’s sending these notes.”

  “I’ll have to contact the sheriff over there. After that ass chewing he gave me I have to coordinate anything we do with him.”

  “Do whatever it takes.”

  “What do you know about the allegedly murdered woman?”

  “I met her when Candi and I went over there back in January. The other office worker wasn’t there. She was on leave because her husband had just died. I also met the manager referred to in the letter, who just had the air of a thug.”

  “If there were two women, how do you know which one was the alleged victim?”

  “I researched the obituaries during the month of January. The age and photo confirmed it was the older woman. I checked the autopsy report. Her death was ruled a suicide caused by an overdose of heart medicine. That agreed with the police report concluding it was a suicide confirmed by a suicide note she left. The note our anonymous friend says was a fake had been typed on the warehouse manager’s typewriter.”

  “If the person would just come to us, this would be so much easier. A credible witness working inside the company would make this a slam dunk.” Wil sighed. “Otherwise our hands are tied.”

  Rick’s smiling exuberance disappeared. “Man, there’s just got to be a way to use this. What about using the illegals to get a warrant? Or how about if you take this to the judge but can’t divulge its author because they are a source cooperating on condition of anonymity?”

  “I don’t know, Rick. It’s pretty risky. Judge Eckman owes me for some legwork I did for him on a case last year. He might be persuaded to sign a warrant that would let us verify the note was typed on the suspect’s typewriter by comparing samples against the suicide note. The illegals are probably our best bet. That would at least give us access to his files.”

  “I don’t think we need to talk to Detective Connell, who dismissed it as a suicide, but I definitely need to bring Sheriff Swenson up to speed,” Wil said.

  “Okay, but let’s keep a lid on this. If we keep the murder investigation separate from the investigation of S & T, we can spring it on Sam and Tank when they least expect it.”

  “What’s all this we stuff, and when would that be?”

  “They will both be in Bankstowne in a couple of weeks for the dedication of the new museum.”

  “The wheels of justice don’t always move as fast as we’d like. This is a police operation that has to follow procedures of the law, not your vendetta. Because of the sensitivity of the case, we’ll keep it low-profile until there’s enough evidence to make arrests, whenever that may be. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal clear.”

  “I appreciate all your help. You’ll get your exclusive story, but you have to move to the sidelines now and let us do our job. Then you can do yours.”

  “I get it. It’s just that I have been waiting for so long to nail that smug bastard. Two weeks should give you enough time for an investigation into the murder and process his files. The dedication is a perfect opportunity to nab them both. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll see what I can do but no promises. We’ll just have to wait and see how this plays out.

  Chapter 58

  “I personally wrote the bill to bring this museum to my hometown and walked it through the General Assembly to assure you would have this great museum as a constant reminder of what was accomplished here.”

  July 7, 1966 Winston-Salem

  The stealth investigation of Marie’s death was a model of cooperation between the SBI and Forsyth County Sheriff’s department. Both branches of law enforcement surp
rised the S & T Distribution warehouse with an early morning raid. Joey was arrested and charged with Marie’s murder. His typewriter and file cabinets were confiscated by the SBI and taken to Raleigh because of the interstate trafficking evidence it contained.

  Rick agreed to let the Winston-Salem Journal have the story of State Senator Johnson’s visit to dedicate the new North Carolina Steam History Museum in Bankstowne that was buried in Around the Area news. Cooperation with the police by the Journal announced an arrest in the case of Marie Short’s murder, formerly closed as a suicide in a police roundup section. The story of the murder of an S & T employee by her boss wasn’t linked to the illegal activities that had been going on in the warehouse. The arrest scoop was reserved for Rick. The Journal article only stated that the company would be closed until further notice.

  “Ann, look at this. You should be proud you got justice for poor Marie,” Alice said as she waved the police round up section of the paper at her daughter, who was busy pulling on Libby’s play clothes.

  “I am, Momma. She didn’t deserve to die like that.” A look of concern came over Ann’s face. “They didn’t mention anything about an informer, did they?”

  “I’ve read the whole article. It’s not mentioned anywhere, thank God. I’ll leave it on the kitchen table for you to read later.”

  “I was there, Momma. I don’t need to read about it. I’ll always remember the surprised look on Joey’s face when the police came in and arrested him. I thought Ronnie was going to have a heart attack. Most of the warehouse crew were illegal immigrants, and at the first sign of the police they scattered like a covey of quail at the first bark of a hunt dog. But the police had the building surrounded and caught most of them.

  “They were just doing their jobs. Now they’ll be deported and who knows what kind of life they have back home.” Ann paused and let out a slow sigh of relief. “Sam Johnson sure didn’t know what he was getting into when he forced me to work for him.”

  Ann sat down to the most relaxed breakfast she had experienced since the investigation began. Phase one was complete; Phase two would follow tomorrow at Bankstowne.

  Sam’s house in Bankstowne

  “What the hell is going on over in Winston?” Tank shouted at his father, waving the newspaper from across the breakfast table.

  “We had a troublemaker, and I told Joey to take care of the problem. Damn it, I didn’t tell him to kill her. Now the cops will be all over the warehouse. But don’t worry, there’s nothing to link you and me to that operation. I’ve been very careful about that.”

  “How about S & T Distributing Company, the name of the company? That won’t be too hard to figure out. And how did the SBI get involved in the raid? The article says they rounded up a dozen illegals that had been working there. Is that your idea of running a low-profile business? Illegal immigrants, for God’s sake.” Tank continued railing at his father while Pearl quietly cleaned up the breakfast dishes.

  “Don’t get high and mighty on me, son. I need to get back to Washington to start damage control. Henry is loading the car right now. Pearl, are you going to be ready to leave in half an hour?”

  “Yes. I didn’t bring many clothes.” She walked over to Tank and gave him a hug. Her short arms couldn’t reach around his middle anymore, but she held him for a minute without saying a word. Tank took her arms from around him and clasped her hands in his against his chest.

  “Don’t worry, Mom, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said then switched to a whisper. “Your father has gotten himself into a mess that he can’t fix. Don't let him drag you down with him.” Pearl reached up and pulled her son’s face down and kissed him softly on the cheek. Tears welled in her eyes. “You take care of yourself.”

  It was the first time Tank had ever seen his mother cry. He choked up at the sight of her tears and pulled her back into a warm embrace. They swayed back and forth without saying anything to each other.

  “It’s time to go.” Sam tapped her on the shoulder as he walked by. “You give them a good speech, son. I’m sorry I won’t be there to hear it. I’ll square it with young Thadus when I get to DC. It’s a good thing the state is doing in saving those buildings. The museum will probably save this town from dying.”

  The three walked to the waiting limousine in the circle drive. “Seems like it was only last week when we did this, sending you off to college,” Sam said.

  He shook Tank’s hand and covered it with both of his smaller hands. “We’ll get through this. I’ll call you when I get to DC. The arrests are a setback, but I’ll get our lawyers on it right away.”

  Sam and Pearl entered the spotless black limo. The engine came to life, and they were out of sight in seconds.

  Tank didn’t feel like that cocky boy heading off to college anymore. He was tired, scared, and just wanted to get away. He returned to the house to practice his speech, which he honestly hoped would lift the spirits of the town folks. It would probably be his last major act as state senator, and that made him feel better about himself. The town held fond memories of better days that had prepared him for the sports life he really wanted.

  Back in his old room, he picked up a copy of his speech, looked in the mirror, and began. The words flowed smoothly as he recounted the history of the town. He made bold predictions of a bright future he could only hope would come true to lift the depressed mindset that had shrouded Bankstowne since the closing of its only industry.

  Chapter 59

  “You can rest assured it will be the best of its kind and give back to the community by attracting tourists by the thousands that will need places to eat and stay while they are here.”

  The arrest

  Sam’s limousine turned from Fifth Street onto old Highway 29 past the abandoned Shops buildings. Crews were busy setting up chairs and decorating the speaker’s platform with red, white, and blue bunting. Right next to the platform sat the restored No.1401 steam engine with its bright green, silver, and gold paint gleaming in the morning sun.

  “Pull over a moment, Henry,” Sam said. “I want to get a good look at that grand old engine.”

  Henry pulled up to the curb and rolled down a window so Sam could get a good look.

  “They were the backbone of the railroad during the war,” Sam said in a wistful tone. “We wouldn’t have won it without them. It’s going to the Smithsonian after the ceremony, Henry. Did you know that?”

  “No sir, I didn’t.”

  “She’ll take her place in history so children for generations to come will know what we did here.” Sam closed his eyes and laid his head back. The car pulled away and headed toward the Yadkin River to pick up Interstate 85 bound for Washington, D.C.

  Pearl shook her husband’s arm. “Sam, wake up. There’s a police blockade up ahead.”

  Henry eased off on the accelerator. The big limousine coasted toward a narrow highway bridge over the river next to the Yadkin Finishing Company. Two Highway Patrol cars with flashing lights blocked the highway on the Rowan County side of the bridge.

  Henry slowed to a stop, and two state troopers stepped from their cruisers and approached the limousine.

  “See what they want, Henry,” Sam ordered from the back seat.

  When the officers reached the driver’s side of the car, Henry lowered his window. “What seems to be the problem officers?”

  “Sir, would you step out of the vehicle, please, and show proof of your identity and registration of the vehicle?”

  Henry exited the car and produced his driver’s license and registration.

  Sam leaned forward to hear the officers.

  “Is your passenger Mr. Samuel Johnson?”

  “Yes he is. What is this about, officer?” Henry stood straight and held a tone of both respect and ir
ritation.

  “We need your passenger to step out of the vehicle.”

  “May I ask why Mr. Johnson needs to get out of the car? My driver’s license and registration are in order, aren’t they?”

  Sam wasn’t going to stand by and let the troopers work Henry over. He got out of the car and asked the highway patrolman, “What’s the problem Officer? Why are we being detained?”

  “Are you Samuel M. Johnson?” one of the officers asked.

  “I am. Why do you ask?”

  The other officer approached Sam and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Mr. Johnson, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

  “My son is a state senator and he will hear about this.”

  “I am sure he will. Sir, do you understand your rights?”

  “Yes, yes, I have a lawyer in Washington.” Sweat beaded across his furrowed brow. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Pearl had gotten out of the car.

  “What in the world is going on here? Officer, will you please move your car so we can get to Washington before dark.”

  “Get back in the car,” Sam said. “I’ll straighten this out.”