The Day Steam Died

by Brown, Dick

  “Ma’am, it would be best if you do as he says and get back into your vehicle.” Turning back to Sam, the officer said firmly, “Mr. Johnson, place your hands behind your back.” He spun Sam around and clamped handcuffs on him in one smooth motion.

  Sam protested, dragging his feet as the officer marched him toward the idling patrol cars.

  “Wait, Sam wait! Where is he taking my husband?” Pearl shrieked at the second officer.

  “To the county jail in Salisbury. Your husband is under arrest, but you may post bail. You and your driver are free to go, but I caution you not to leave Rowan County.”

  Henry helped Pearl back into the car, assuring her some terrible mistake had been made. She didn’t share Henry’s conviction that it was a mistake. Henry turned the car around. As they drove to the county court house to post bail for Sam, she pondered what would become of her.

  Chapter 60

  “And this beautifully restored engine will take its place in history at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. Steam may be dead, my friends, but its memories will live on in your hearts and this wonderful museum. I appreciate this opportunity to give something back to Bankstowne, which means so much to all of us.”

  Dedication ceremony

  A large crowd of town’s people assembled in front of the red, white, and blue stage and took their seats. Most with doubts but desperate hopes for what they were about to hear. Others wandered over to get a close-up look at the beautifully restored steam engine. Many former employees of Coastline Railway had spent all their working lives in those old buildings repairing those monster engines. Some with tears in their eyes touched it as gently as if stroking their favorite pet. They knew their way of life was gone forever.

  It was a sad reunion. Still, they came, more curious than excited. The shop buildings had deteriorated from neglect since the closing of the facility. Not everyone was convinced a museum would ever be built. Most saw it as reelection grandstand to boost Tank’s image in a race he was losing by double digits in the latest poll.

  Bankstowne Police were out in force, directing traffic on Highway 29 into the parking lot and standing guard at the speaker’s platform. No one noticed the contingent of plainclothes agents from SBI mingling among the crowd.

  Rick and Wil were in quiet conversation at the back of the gathering.

  “How did the arrest go this morning?” Rick asked.

  “Sam was pretty upset. He even threatened to report the patrolman to his son, State Senator Corneilus Johnson.” He chuckled. “The cuff and booking was low key. No one there knew him and Billings of the Daily Journal will hold his story until press time.”

  “What about Mrs. Johnson—how’d she take it?”

  “She posted Sam’s bail and they, along with the chauffer, are all at the Johnson’s house. I’ve got a car staked out there to make sure they don’t go anywhere. There’ll be a hearing and arraignment tomorrow at the County Court House.”

  “I always felt sorry for Pearl. She was really a nice lady but had no control over Sam or Tank.”

  “Who knows how much of that is part to blame for their criminal behavior.”

  Rick sighed. He wanted to believe only Sam and Tank were to blame, but after his investigation, it was clear many people were to be implicated in Sam’s operation. “Are we all set for the big bust?”

  “Everybody’s in place,” Wil said. “And no, we aren’t going to cuff him on stage. We’ll take him as soon as he leaves the podium. His state trooper bodyguards don’t have a clue, but I’ll brief them during the speech.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “We’re doing this by the book. The warrants are all solid. I don’t want this to blow up when it goes to court just because we had some fun bringing him in.” Wil patted Rick on the back. “I need to get back to my team. Enjoy the speech, big brother.” Wil disappeared into the milling crowd.

  At exactly one-thirty, Mayor Barnhart approached the podium to introduce the local hero. Rick fidgeted, shook with anxiety. Finally he would see Tank get justice for the suffering he’d caused others, the torment he’d put upon both Rick and Ann.

  His gut tightened when Tank approached the podium.

  Tank looked over the crowd before he began his speech. Their eyes locked and a charge shot through Rick’s body like he’d put his finger in an open light socket. Tank smiled and nodded recognition of his old adversary.

  Tank’s speech droned on, a long nostalgic narrative of the Shops and Bankstowne’s history. The audience was receptive to the congratulatory remarks of the dedicated work that had made the Shops a hub of activity for so many years.

  Rick was caught up in the moment as his memory wandered all the way back to their early school years. In first grade, the Johnson’s driver took Tank to school every day. Knowing the other kids always walked in the street like it was some kind of parade, he delighted in honking the horn to chase them to the curb.

  Memories of how Tank dominated their final homecoming game flashed before him. As editor of the school paper, Rick felt a pang of guilt for having failed to give Tank the star treatment he actually deserved. That emotion was whisked away by Tank’s cruel treatment and vile things said about Ann. He’d taken every opportunity to make Rick’s life miserable.

  “In my right hand, I hold the signed legislation I sponsored that will establish a first class, one-of-a-kind Steam History Museum on this site. In my left hand is the letter of acceptance by the Smithsonian Institute of Coastline’s gift of Engine 1401.”

  The crowd came to its feet, applauding the promise they hoped would attract tourist and revive their dying town. A standing ovation lasted a full minute, prompting Tank to walk around the platform to shake hands with the blue ribbon panel of dignitaries that sat behind him. He turned and waved to the cheering audience with both hands, giving the V for victory sign and shouting to the excited crowd, “Thank you and God bless the Tar Heel state.”

  That cued his staff to circulate among the crowd to hand out bumper stickers and yard signs with Re-Elect Tank Johnson printed in bright red, white, and blue. Even though he didn’t want the job for another term, Tank responded to the cheers of his audience like his early days as the Undergraduate Assemblyman. He was a showman if nothing else.

  Rick closed his notepad without writing a single word. He wouldn’t need notes for this story. Tank always had things his way, but today his daddy’s money wouldn’t help him.

  “We’re playing on my field today, and you are going to lose,” Rick said aloud with a sadistic grin that lit up his face.

  Tank continued waving to the still cheering crowd. But Senator Johnson had performed his last official act.

  He was on an adrenalin high when he trotted off the stage, buoyed by the cheering sounds of an inspired audience and the high school band playing the Carolina fight song. Energized, he bounded down the steps. A group of men quickly surrounded him.

  “Senator Johnson, I’m SBI agent Wil Barnes. You’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and conspiracy to traffic illegal contraband. Please place your hands behind your back.”

  Tank’s face drained of all color, and he looked helplessly at a crowd of TV cameras and photographers. “What the hell are you doing? Mark,” he called to his state trooper bodyguard. “Get these people away from me.”

  Trooper Mark Goodson stood silent and watched as Wil read the senator his Miranda rights.

  Tank looked to the arresting officer, and it seemed recognition finally clicked. “You bastard!” Tank lunged at Wil, but two other agents restrained him. “I’ll have your job! You’ll be busted so far back you won’t be able to be a meter reader.”

  Once again his eyes met with Rick’s, who came to stand behind Wil.

  “I hope you’re enjoying this little show because when I get back to Raleigh y
ou’ll all be charged with false arrest, defamation of character, and anything else my lawyers can dig up. I had your number in high school, and I’ll do the same tomorrow.”

  “You do that, Tank,” Rick responded, “but just so you know, you aren’t going to Raleigh. You’ll have a private cell in the county jail. If you want to get back to Raleigh, maybe your mom will bail you out like she did your partner in crime earlier this morning.”

  Tank strained at the grip the SBI agents had on him to get at Rick.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Wil barked at Rick. “Come along quietly. We don’t want to create any more of a scene than necessary.” Wil nudged Tank away from the confused crowd and cameras.

  A reporter shouted, “Senator, is it true you’re illegally transporting cigarettes to a crime syndicate in New York?”

  “You’ll regret this,” Tank said in a serious tone, and then he began shouting. “I promise! You’ll regret it!”

  An agent on each side gripped Tanks arms and pushed their way through a shocked crowd that had gathered around him. The agents struggled to get him into an unmarked car then drove him away.

  Chapter 61

  Reunion

  A few stragglers still wandered around the speaker’s platform trying to figure out what had just happened. Mrs. Tichenor, Rick’s high school English teacher, sought her former student out to congratulate him on his success as a journalist.

  “Thank you,” Rick said after Mrs. Tichenor’s congratulations, “but I couldn’t have done it without your tough English classes and writing assignments.”

  “I would love to have you come speak to my classes next year. Would you do that?”

  “Yes ma’am, I would be honored. Just let me know when you want me to come.”

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Tichenor said, clasping her hands together.

  “It was a pleasure seeing you again, but I have to get back to work.” Rick held up his notepad, which made Mrs. Tichenor smile. Rick waved goodbye as his favorite high school teacher disappeared into the crowd.

  “Hello stranger,” a soft voice said from behind Rick.

  He turned around to see who was talking to him.

  Rick’s heart almost stopped. A long hesitation passed before he could speak. Not sure he believed his eyes, Rick asked in a halting voice, “Ann, is that you?”

  She stood there as a grown woman now, and yet it felt like she’d only just slammed the door behind her that night so many years ago. “It’s been a long time, Rick.”

  “What are you doing here? Where have you been all these years?” Rick stumbled over his words, trying to ask everything at once.

  Ann smiled. “It’s a long story I’d like to tell you later. But first I have someone with me I want you to meet.”

  Ann’s mother stepped forward, and she gave him a polite nod.

  “Mrs. Nestlebaum, hello! It’s good to see you again.” Rick didn’t know if he should extend his hand to shake or give her a hug. After a moment of hesitation, she reached out and gave him a limp handshake.

  “I guess, uh, it’s like we’re meeting for the first time again,” Rick said, awkwardly trying to make conversation.

  “No, no,” Ann said, laughing. “I have someone else I want you to meet. Someone very special.” A nine year old boy stepped out from behind Ann. “Rick, this is your son, Ricky. Ricky, this is your father.”

  Rick could see himself reflected in the little boy: the same eyes, the same face, but with Ann in there as well. “My son . . .” he said, less of a question and more of a statement to himself. “Why didn’t you tell me? I have so many questions.”

  “And you deserve answers. Ricky, why don’t you and Nanna go over to the drug store and get something cool to drink? That speech was far too long and it’s far too hot. Do you mind, Momma? We won’t be long.”

  Alice nodded. “Come on, Ricky, lets you and me go get a Cherry Coke. I haven’t had one of those from the drugstore fountain since we left here. It’s about the only thing I miss about this place.”

  “Be careful crossing the highway,” Ann called after them.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve crossed it a few times in my life,” Alice snapped.

  “I’ll explain everything,” Ann said, “but let’s go over to Krider’s Café, I could use something cold to drink myself.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Krider’s was across the highway, next to the building that used to house the Coastline Company Store. Like many of the buildings that faced the Shops on Highway 29, Sands, the old company store, was vacant. Tippets Barber Shop was still open. The old North Carolina Watch Repair School next to the barber shop closed down several years ago after battery powered digital watches came onto the market.

  Still in shock, Rick slid into a booth across from Ann. They ordered Diet Pepsis without looking away from each other when the waitress asked for their order.

  “I hardly know where to start,” Ann said.

  “How about at the beginning, or rather, the ending. You ripped my heart out walking away like that with no explanation. What am I supposed to think now when you show up ten years later with a boy you say is my son? Did you just happen to see me here, or did you track me down?” Rick’s mind was spinning so fast he didn’t know how he felt about what was happening.

  “I knew you would be here because I’m the anonymous person that sent you those notes.”

  “That was you? But where did you get your information?”

  “I worked there. At the warehouse. That was part of the deal when we moved. Sam gave Daddy and me jobs in his warehouse to keep us quiet.”

  “Quiet about what?”

  The waitress brought their drinks and before she asked if there was anything else. Rick waved her off.

  Ann lowered her head and worked her hands over each other. “You remember that day at the drug store, when you got so upset because I was acting strangely and wouldn’t tell you why? Well . . .” Ann paused. “Tank had raped me.”

  It didn’t surprise him, but hearing it hurt like a spear through his heart. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have gone to the police and—”

  “I couldn’t. Momma was terrified of telling anyone, even my Daddy.” She went on to explain everything from how Sam thought it was Tank’s baby and moved her family to Winston-Salem to the specifics of his cigarette smuggling business.

  Everything was coming together in Rick’s mind. All the missing pieces, all the information he’d been searching for was right here. “All these years you were working for Sam . . . That must have been tough. What made you decide to inform on him?”

  “I’d been collecting any evidence I could find but never had anything solid until his henchman, Joey, murdered Marie. The police were satisfied that her death was a suicide because she was dying of cancer, but I didn’t buy it. I got lucky when I cleaned her desk out and found a key to Joey’s office. That’s when I discovered the suicide letter was typed on his machine. I heard about your visit and trying to get a tour of the warehouse.

  “The Winston-Salem detective wasn’t interested in pursuing the investigation. You were my only hope to get any justice from Marie’s murder and the illegal operation Tank and Sam were running.”

  “That was a brave thing you did. You provided the key evidence we’d been looking for since Tank became a state senator. I’ll hand it to Sam, he ran a tight ship. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know if we would have ever caught them.” Rick pulled out his notepad. “Can I use your name in my story?”

  “Please don’t,” Ann said, putting up her hand. “I just want this all to go away.”

  Rick nodded and put his notepad down. “I’ll keep it out of my story. But if I’m subpoenaed and directed to by the judge to name my source, I’ll have to expose you.”

  Ann scrunche
d her face as if in pain.

  Rick scrambled to add, “I don’t think that will happen, though. There’s too much hard evidence, thanks to you, to send them away for a long time.” When that seemed to calm Ann, Rick let himself relax. “Enough about that, you can read all about it in Sundays paper.” Rick took a deep breath. “When did you know Ricky was mine?”

  “The minute I saw his face, there was no denying who his father was. I’m so sorry. It was just easier to go along with Sam’s plan at that time. He had all the power and control of everything. Even if I’d known it was your baby from the beginning, I still would have had to go along. The police wouldn’t have taken my word over the Johnson’s on a rape charge. They would have probably blamed it on you. I didn’t want to ruin your chance at college and a career. It was a bad position to be in. It hurt so badly I couldn’t concentrate for a long time. But I never forgot you and the wonderful experiences we had. I’m so sorry to have hurt you.” Ann’s eyes were wet with tears. “I wanted to say yes so badly when you asked me to run away with you. If I hadn’t gone inside when I did, what kind of life would we have had?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it would have been better than my last ten years have been.” He spoke softly, careful not to say anything to upset her. Rick reached across and took Ann’s hands gently in his. “I would like for us to get to know each other again.”

  “A lot has happened in my life since then, Rick. Some wonderful things and some awful things. I just lost my husband last December. I loved him very much. He was a good father to Ricky and we had a wonderful daughter together.” Ann smiled and laughed. “I came here not knowing what to expect. I’ve always felt guilty for the way I treated you and thought you should know about little Ricky. Anything more than that, well, we’ll just have to see what happens.” She squeezed Rick’s hands. “It’s time to pick up Momma and Ricky. Would you like to come?”