Murder and Misconception

by T. A. Huggins

  I asked if he had access to a Bible, and he nodded. “Read Psalm 119 if you get the chance, Indiana. Don’t be afraid to look in the table of contents to find the book.” Indiana nodded again. Then he rose and walked through the door behind him.

  After he disappeared, I got up and departed through my own door, still praying silently for the man that had made my life and so many other trainmen’s lives miserable.

  I received my work call on the drive back to the hotel. I had just enough time to grab a sandwich and get ready.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SAINT LOUIS,

  NOV. 17, 1400 EST

  We boarded the train. All went smoothly. Once in Indianapolis, we put the horses away. This was the kind of trip I liked most—unremarkable. It was approaching midnight, so I didn’t call Deb to warn her of my imminent return. At home I raided the refrigerator and turned on the TV. I wasn’t tired enough to lie down. I found a rerun of The Virginian and, as my wife says, “zoned out.” I woke myself snoring with my skull doing the bobble head thing. I guessed it was time for bed. The next morning, I woke to the smell of sausage cooking, coffee brewing, and my wife humming in the kitchen. I love home.

  “Breakfast is almost ready. Give me five more minutes.”

  “You must have missed me,” I replied as I took my seat at the table.

  “I did, and if you are going to be home for a while, we are going to have lunch with the kids today.”

  “That means it must be a weekend.”

  “It is. It’s Saturday—all day today.”

  I sometimes forget the day of the week. Nights and days just go by, without anything remarkable to separate one from another. Deb placed the hot breakfast plates on the table and two steaming cups of coffee. She said grace, and I dug in. She popped up and brought two napkins back to the table.

  “How was your time in St. Louis? Anything new on the murder case?”

  “They have arrested Indiana, but I don’t think he did it. I had a good visit with him yesterday in jail.”

  “You went to jail to visit him?” she asked rather surprised, because she knew Indiana and I were not fast friends.

  “I did, and I prayed with the man. I think we understand each other better, and I have great hopes for his spiritual growth.”

  “Great!” she said as she popped up again, this time for salt and pepper. “Who do you think did this?”

  “Give me some time and I will let you know. Now where are we meeting the kids, meaning my youngest daughter and her husband?”

  “We’re running to the bank, the post office, and a store at Metropolis. Then we meet at the corner restaurant there.”

  “That means I need to shower, dress, and put on my running shoes. Right?”

  “Yep, but what a hearty breakfast you have had to start off your day!” she said as she cleared the table.

  I went off to the shower knowing the good breakfast was part of a feminine plan, but I was happy to be duped.

  We set off for the morning. It was Saturday, the 18th of November, at 10:00 in the AM. I have to remind myself every so often of day, date, and time just to be part of the real world, or rather the non-railroad world. After my wife informed me that we needed some cash from the ATM, I drove through and retrieved some of my actual cash that I work for. I was almost stunned into silence, since I see it so infrequently. We then went to the post office. I made the mistake of offering to go in for the stamps. Deb said great, because she was going to give our daughter a ring.

  I walked in, and I was shocked to see the line winding back through to the first entrance. I checked my watch. I had to ask myself, why is everyone at the post office on this Saturday, the 18th of November, at 10:35? I stood looking toward the three clerks wondering why the line was so long. Each clerk was busy, no one was lollygagging. One clerk was dealing with mail, probably for a business, by the looks of the customer’s large plastic carrier. Another was weighing and stamping a number of boxes, and the final clerk left his station to walk away for some reason. I checked my watch again. Five minutes had passed without the line moving one inch. At this rate, I would still be in line when the post office closed.

  I thought about the near miss with the car in the yard the other night. I hadn’t reported it, but when it was discovered by one of the yard conductors, things would certainly back up for a while in the yard, somewhat like this line where I was currently standing. It would make the yardmaster’s life miserable, and paperwork would mount because of the incident. I couldn’t see Jesse, the yardmaster, turning the car loose. It would just make her own life miserable. I thought I could take her off the list of suspects for this incident. That brought me back to the Mad Russian as chief suspect, or I could try to tell myself that the whole thing was simply an accident. I definitely needed to talk to MR.

  Twenty minutes after I entered the post office, I was able to leave with two books of stamps. I had a good speech ready to let Deb know exactly why the post office was in the red. However, I found she was still on the phone with our daughter. The unhurried passage of time was not disturbing her.

  I turned the radio on as I started toward the Metropolis outdoor mall and found some happy oldies. I began singing along with the Beach Boys, and Deb finally finished the conversation with a person she was going to see in just an hour, our daughter.

  “What store are we headed for?” I asked.

  “I need to find something for the Thanksgiving table, you know to make it more . . . Thanksgiving like.”

  “Okay, better question. Where should I park?”

  “Park on the southeast corner of the mall.”

  Now we are getting somewhere, I thought, as I drove around the mall two times to find the parking place. I guess everyone wasn’t at the post office as I previously thought. A good portion of the population was here. We went to a store that women love and men follow closely behind, ready with a “That’s nice,” hoping to get out with little time and expense invested. I performed my part with the “That’s nice,” but it didn’t save me either time or money. Oh well, I thought, you win some and you lose some.

  We met the kids at the Irish restaurant. I was ready for some man talk with my favorite son-in-law.

  The hostess set us in a secluded corner. At last we could hear one another speak. My daughter and wife began by showing each other their newly purchased items. My son-in-law ordered an Irish lager. I ordered ice tea. We all chatted as we ate the crisp Irish fish and chips. My daughter and son-in-law were both employed in the medical profession, and they had a lot to say about a wave of layoffs due to the implementation of Obamacare. They were worried about how this big change might affect their lives.

  “It is scary not knowing if you will have a job the next day,” said my daughter. Her husband nodded. “We don’t know whether to be relieved we’re still working, or not. Every day somebody else gets the axe.” We listened to their very legitimate worries and tried to reassure them.

  “I know what you mean,” I said, silently praying I would know the right thing to say. “We have survived many layoffs, and we have both changed professions. We count on God’s help when things worry us.” We know that they know we are always praying for them, but today it seemed important to be sure they knew.

  After a nice meal and great conversation, they went their way to finish some errands, and we went ours. Deb needed to stop at one more store in the mall. Then she took my arm and said, “You up for a movie?”

  I really wanted to say yes, but I thought about the way things had been going.

  “I’d love it,” I said, “but I don’t think it would leave me time for any rest before the next call.” It irks me that they seem not to mind scheduling my calls so close together.

  It was hard to turn her down, but she laid her head on my shoulder and said, “You’re right. Let’s get you home.”

  Once home I plunked down in front of the TV hoping to catch a Gunsmoke rerun. I was in luck and found one playing on one of the uppermost channe
ls. Deb sat down and worked on a grocery list for Thanksgiving and her Christmas gift list. Miss Kitty was once again trying to protect Matt with some well-placed innuendos in her saloon to help catch the bad guys, who were seeking revenge for capture of one of their own. We both jumped when my phone rang.

  I saw that it was Lurch so I picked up.

  “Hey big guy, how’s it going?” I asked.

  “Not bad, Ben. Have you heard about Indiana’s arrest?”

  “I have. I even had a chance to speak with him,” I responded.

  “Do you think he did it, Ben?”

  “No I don’t. Indiana couldn’t have thrown the spike maul back in the M&W truck before I discovered it. He said he didn’t do it, and I believed him.” As I was speaking I realized that Lurch didn’t know about my near miss with the coal hopper.

  After I related the details of the incident, he asked, “Ben, do you think that the incident was on purpose?”

  “I really don’t know but I am going to have a good long talk with the Mad Russian. He may be my conductor tonight. I hope so.”

  “Okay. You be careful.” Lurch sounded concerned.

  Gunsmoke had ended, and I knew that I better try to get some rest before the call. I gave Deb a kiss, and off to my pad I hobbled. I was about to doze off when I thought, Hey, I think I get it. But as I tried to put the thought together, it evaporated and I fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  INDIANAPOLIS,

  NOV. 18, 2300 EST

  The call came at 2100 hours for 2300 hours. I asked the dispatcher who my conductor was for this trip. Just as I had thought, it would be the Mad Russian. I got up immediately to shower and pack and be mentally alert for the trip. My wife was surprised that I hadn’t slept for an hour as usual after the call. I hadn’t told her about the escapee car incident, so I didn’t let her in on my reason for being in alert mode. She wouldn’t understand that I was preparing to question the Russian. She had packed me a lunch, and uncharacteristically she stayed up until I left the house at 2230 hours.

  Once I reached the railyard, I looked for the Mad Russian’s truck. He was there on time. In the office, I spotted him at the computer getting the paperwork. I said, “Hey,” and walked back to my locker.

  In the locker room, several of the guys were discussing Indiana’s arrest. Most were gloating. I pulled on my boots and left for our assigned train. Concentrating on the required preparation procedures, I really wasn’t aware of the Mad Russian’s presence until we were ready to leave. We left the yard as prescribed with very little chitchat. I would pick the time and place to question him. After we went through Terre Haute things would quiet down with few radio calls, signals, or other distractions. That would be a good time to bring up some of my questions. Soon we were on the west side of Terre Haute. The night was cold. There was also the possibility of snow showers that night, but we hadn’t seen any. About the time we arrived in Casey, Illinois, our engine was warm, the radio was quiet, and talking would help keep the Mad Russian awake. I asked him what he thought about Indiana’s arrest.

  “I’m glad they caught him,” said the Russian, fidgeting a little in his chair, “and I’m glad I won’t have to travel with him. Maybe things can get back to normal.”

  “You know, Russian, Indiana admitted he was in St. Louis the night of George’s death. Did you admit you were there as well?” I knew he had not, but I wondered if the man would be truthful with me.

  He was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t need to tell Henderson. My personal life is none of his business, and I knew that I hadn’t committed the murder.”

  I thought about that statement for a bit before continuing. “Indiana is in jail because he did admit he was in St. Louis gambling. They had video from the casino to prove it. He admitted to the truth. You did not. I don’t believe he did it.”

  “So you think I am worse than Indiana because I didn’t tell my whereabouts?” The Russian’s voice began to rise ever so slightly. “Worse than a man that did nothing but put others down and especially put you down, Ben. He hated you, and you know it.”

  “I know. However, I don’t think he committed murder.”

  “Well, I didn’t commit murder either.” The Mad Russian stood as he made this declaration, as if he had somewhere to go.

  I kept my eyes on the track ahead while the Russian belatedly remembered that he was captive in the engine and sat down again. I decided to keep quiet for a time and let him stew. We were quiet all the way to Effingham. I was radioed to move to the siding, not unusual for this run. Things would soon be quiet again. After I pulled off to allow the van train to pass, I looked over at my comrade, and he was pretending to sleep. I knew he was pretending because his eyelids were moving in conjunction with his thoughts. I opened my lunch and decided to make some noise chewing on my apple first. My wife was trying to get me to eat healthy. After several good crunches, the Russian shouted out, “Could you eat something less noisy? I’m trying to sleep!”

  Just for meanness, I took another bite as loud as possible. Now that the Russian was conscious again, I began questioning again. “You know, Russian, the other night in the St. Louis yard I was crossing the tracks toward the office. A wandering coal hopper barely missed my behind. I managed a few old moves from my conductor days and brought the car to a standstill. I understand you were at the yard office then, and I just wondered if you knew anything about the incident?”

  The Russian looked straight ahead. He was silent a long time. I was patient a long time.

  He finally replied, “That was my fault, Ben. The yardmaster was giving me a hard time. I was sick of her. I knew that if a car was found on the lead, it would really mess up her night. I didn’t mean for a near miss. You are always at least ten to fifteen minutes behind your conductor when you dismount. I saw Ty and figured I had the time to release the car. I had no idea you were right behind him. I’m sorry, Ben. I will never pull a trick like that again. I’m sorry. See, I do tell the truth if it matters. I pulled a dumb trick, lost my temper. I will never do it again.”

  “When I could not find you, I thought that you were involved,” I replied. “You could have killed me, Russian, just to screw up the yardmaster’s night.”

  “I’m sorry, Ben,” the Russian said as he stared straight ahead in the night.

  I stared at the starless sky. A few snow flurries hit the windshield as we progressed toward St. Louis. I needed some silence to mull over this new information.

  Other than calling signals the rest of the trip was quiet. I watched the sunrise over the sparse clouds. The light was diffused and gradually shifted from orange to yellow. The scene had a way of giving hope.

  Once I entered the yard office I thought again about what the Russian had said. It was true. I usually am fifteen minutes behind my conductor. I saw the Russian walk by Jesse and completely ignore her. She gave him the look of death as he passed by. I wondered what the relationship between the two of them really was.

  It wasn’t unusual for there to be bad blood between trainmen and management. Most trainmen, if wise, kept their distance from female managers because there had been so many sexual harassment accusations within the company. I decided that, on the return trip, I would poke about the Russian’s mind to get an idea concerning his relationship with Jesse and what it might have been with George.

  I was pretty beat by the time we got our limo for the hotel. I made it up to the room, disrobed, and immediately fell asleep. I awoke and looked at the clock. It was 9:00, or 2100 hours. I fell asleep around noon in the light of day and awoke in the dark of night. I felt as if I had slept for a thousand years. I thought I had better call my stand number. The automated reply was that I was two times out. I wasn’t quite sure if I should try and sleep some more or get up and get some food. After a few minutes, I decided to go for nourishment. There was a Denny’s nearby that was open twenty-four hours. I thought that would do. I showered and took the elevator to the hotel lobby. The door opened, and blocking t
he entrance—or should I say filling the entire opening—was none other than my pal, Lurch. I thought I would try his line and greeted him with “Good evening,” drawing out the “eve-ning.”

  He said, “Hey Big Ben, what a surprise to see you here.”

  “Funny, Lurch. Have you eaten? I’m going over to Denny’s. Do you want to come along?”

  “Yeah, sure. Let me get this grip up to the room. I’ll be back down in a few.”

  We exchanged places in the elevator, and I walked over to speak with Steve at the night desk while I waited for Lurch.

  “How’s it going, Steve?”

  “Not bad, Ben. Things have been unusually calm here. I hope it stays that way and this is not the calm before the storm. Even the railroaders have been peaceful. Do you think it’s because Indiana is locked up?”

  “Could be. I have heard much less in the way of the usual complaints from the guys.” I grabbed a cookie from the warmer. The cookies are one of the best amenities at this hotel. I decided against a cup of coffee just in case I had time enough to get a little sleep on a siding. As I was enjoying the cookie the elevator door opened and Lurch’s huge frame exited. He certainly could be scary at night.

  “Ready to go, Ben.”

  I nodded and finished munching on the warm, luscious treat. We walked out the doors and headed across the street to Denny’s.

  The hostess was a familiar face. “Haven’t seen you two in a while,” she said as she gathered up menus. “Do you want a booth or table tonight?”

  “A booth.” We followed her to the far side of the room, noticing the place was nearly empty.

  “Is business slowing, or is it just slow now?” I asked.

  “It is just slow now. Not late enough yet for the late-night crowd.”