Murder and Misconception

by T. A. Huggins

  “I don’t know. What’s this all about, Ben?”

  “I believe all lights that are replaced are recorded because of cost and maintenance orders that are processed, so the burn life could be checked, is that correct?”

  “Yes, it could be determined. So what?”

  “If we look at past records, then we could determine if both were replaced at the same time when they previously burned out. We could figure out how long they had been out before it came to your attention by looking up past records.”

  I turned back to Jesse.

  “Did you tell Henderson that the night of the murder you and George were talking as the W123 passed through the yard? And that George thought the crew of that train was in violation so he left to check the switch?”

  Henderson started paging through his notes again, and Jesse nodded. Then I addressed both Jesse and Henderson. “Do either of you know the crew members who were on that train?”

  Jesse just looked at the floor. Henderson paged through his notes. In a few seconds he named the crew members as Frank Mercer, engineer, and James Best, conductor.

  I looked directly at Jesse and asked her if she knew either of these men.

  “Of course I recognize their names. I recognize the names of most trainmen that pass through this yard.”

  I asked her, “Do you know at least one of these men better? Have you had or are you having a relationship with one of these men?”

  She stood and shouted, “None of your business or anyone else’s who I see!”

  Henderson said that he could subpoena her to answer, and he could call each of the two men in for questioning.

  Jesse sank into her chair. When she spoke, she could barely get the words out

  “I have been seeing Frank Mercer.”

  The Russian’s head jerked up, and he stared a hole through her.

  At that moment, I was very sure I could piece together what happened the night of George’s murder

  When George said that he was going out to the switch to pull that particular crew out of service, Jesse followed. She had the keys to Joe’s truck and retrieved the maul under dimly light conditions. She walked up behind the switch that George had moved back into position to set up the crew for a failure and whopped him one. She wiped some of the blood from the spike maul onto the switch armature. Then she put the maul in her car. She may have planned to put it back into the truck but got nervous and feared some interruption, so she put the maul in her car. She returned to her office and reported the incident as a switch accident. When Lurch and I got to the yard office, I remember seeing Jesse pass by, and she was going toward the front door, toward the parking lot. Until tonight I could not think of a single reason that she would be headed that way in all the confusion. I now think she was concerned that there may be some evidence, dirt, blood, etc., that could be spotted on or in her car, so she went back to check it over.

  Jesse interrupted and said, “You have no proof of anything you are saying, Ben.”

  “I think there might be proof, Jesse. I think that once you had the spike maul home you did not clean it thoroughly but instead just flung it in and out of the ground several times, leaving it a dirty mess, and then threw it back into Joe’s truck. You must have been in a rush the night you threw it in as well. Henderson took blood and dirt samples off the maul. I bet we can match the samples to some in your vehicle.”

  Jesse stood quite suddenly, surprising us all. She shouted, “I hated George, I really hated George. He was a tyrant! He came on to me just a week after I started working here. I was lonely, left my husband, and came here not knowing a soul. I thought our relationship was fun for a while. George got his kicks out of harassing and setting up trainmen for failures. He also got his kicks out of controlling me. I tried to end the relationship over and over. He threatened my job, and he threatened anyone I tried to have a relationship with. He set up engineers and conductors to be pulled out of service, or he harassed them by holding them here away from their home terminal. Ask the Russian. George was harassing him that day because he was jealous. It was not Indiana like everyone thought. George didn’t like the fact I was seeing the Russian. He was setting up Frank and James to be pulled out of service because I had just started seeing Frank. He didn’t care how this affected anyone financially, mentally, or at all. He didn’t care. So when he went out to the switch, I hated him. I hit him hard with the maul.”

  Jesse appeared completely calm as she continued, “I think when the lights went out in the yard, about two days apart, Ben, for your information, I just let them go and didn’t file a maintenance order. I must have started thinking of the plan then. The plan just started to materialize the week before like a fog being burnt off a plain to make this look like a switch accident. It almost worked didn’t it, Ben? Didn’t it, Mr. Henderson? When Joe turned in his keys and was going on vacation that week, I decided that would be the perfect time. I still wasn’t sure I could do it until George went out that night to set up the crew. He just opened the door and laughed as he went outside.

  “I lost it. I went to my office, put on my gloves, grabbed the keys to the M&W truck. I got the spike maul out of the back of the truck, walked up behind George, and let him have it, right in the temple as he turned to see me. It was surprisingly easy, and I was glad, happy even, that he saw me right before the blow. I wiped some blood from the spike maul with a handkerchief and wiped it onto the switch stand lever ball. I saw a shadow in the yard office, so instead of putting the maul back into the truck I hurried to my car and dropped it into the trunk. I then went back around the east end and entered the yard office. I reported the switch accident.

  “During the confusion that followed, I got to thinking that maybe I had gotten some blood on my bumper, so I went back out to check. You were right, Ben, I was going back out to my car. When I got home that day I just put the whole thing out of my mind. The next day I called off work and took the maul out of my car while it was parked in my garage. I took it out in the backyard at night. It didn’t look too bad. I wiped it once and dug in the ground in my flowerbed. It needed some weeding anyway. I thought that would clean the maul enough since I didn’t think it would ever be found out as the murder weapon. I guess I was wrong on that point. I also cleaned my trunk carpet with Resolve. You may find fiber matches for blood and dirt, or you may not. I no longer care. I am confessing because I did the company, myself, and the trainmen a favor getting rid of George. Maybe you can make me a deal for this confession. How about it, Mr. Henderson?”

  Mr. Henderson was busy writing and recording the confession. He paused for a moment, looked up at Jesse, then asked her to continue.

  Jesse continued with her confession, seemingly wanting to get all the details out in the open. She said that when she had returned to work two days later she then thought she had better return the maul to the M&W truck before Joe returned from vacation. She left the yard office unobserved, opened the tailgate of the truck, and heard some footsteps. It was Tim, the trainmaster, coming out to greet and inspect our train that had turned the oak into matchsticks. Jesse admitted that she just threw the maul into the truck bed and headed out of sight.

  I returned my attention to Jesse as she continued, “I’m glad I did it. George was an abuser and dictator. The trainmen should applaud me.”

  Jesse then looked at the Russian and said, “Sorry, Russian. You came along with too much baggage, kids, ex-wife a drug addict, just too much baggage.”

  The Russian kept his eyes on the floor.

  Henderson stood and said, “Mr. Time, you and your conductor can proceed and take your train home.”

  The Russian and I closed the door softly behind us. I had been completely surprised by the confession. I was having some trouble preparing myself to become Big Ben, the engineer. The Mad Russian was going about his preparations for the return trip like a robot. Luckily, I didn’t have much to do with the paperwork. I just needed to get to the limo and be shuttled to our train. I walked out
the door and made my way to the waiting limo. It was Chuck. He seemed to be his chipper self as he greeted me, “Hey Ben.” I got into the back seat and greeted him and told him the Russian would be out shortly. The Russian followed and got into the front seat. Chuck revved the engine, and we were off for home.

  Our trip home that night was silent with exception of signal calling. The Russian didn’t doze off, and I couldn’t doze off. At times I thought about Jesse and her confession, and at times I zoned out just unable to fathom a murderess. I had never heard a real murder confession before. I sure didn’t think she would confess so calmly, almost taking pride in her deed. It appeared that she thought she had done us all a favor. It was all so troubling. I wondered as our trip progressed what the Russian was thinking.

  We arrived in the Indianapolis yard without incident. I took my grip and went home ready for sleep. I hit the hay and slept like a log. When I woke, it was dark about 6:00 or 1800 hours. I made my way to the kitchen where my wife was finishing up some dishes. I asked, “Did I miss my supper?”

  She replied, “Your plate is in the microwave. I would have waited to eat if I had known what time you would wake.”

  “That’s okay. I’m just glad to be home,” I said. I took my plate of baked chicken, broccoli, and a baked potato from the microwave and sat it on the kitchen table. “I guess we are serious about trying to keep our weight in check this holiday season, aren’t we?” I asked as I began to shovel the meal into my mouth.

  “Yes, we are. I am not going to gain the usual eight pounds over the holiday this year. We just have to try and eat right, Ben.” She had finished the last of the dishes and sat down across the table from me with a glass of water.

  “How did this trip go, Ben? You seemed in a hurry to get out of here when you left the other night.”

  It was time to tell my tale of the last couple of days. I finished up with Jesse’s confession.

  She looked over at me and said, “Well, I am glad it wasn’t the Russian who did this, or any other of the trainmen that I’ve heard so much about. I guess I shouldn’t put it that way. I am very sorry it happened at all. How do you feel, Ben?”

  I scraped my plate clean, took it over to the sink and rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher. It was hard to put my finger on it.

  “I’m not really sure how I feel. Maybe a shower will help me sort out my thoughts.”

  “That sounds good. Go for it. I’m headed upstairs to type the first draft of our Christmas letter.”

  “Isn’t it too soon? It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet!” I said.

  “No, I need a first draft now. You know me. I need to be ahead of the deadline. I can refine and add more after Thanksgiving.”

  She headed upstairs, and I went for the shower. I made it a long one. When my daughters were home, I would have yelled at them for such a long shower. They used to deplete the hot water tank. I planned to do the same.

  Once dressed I went to the TV and found a rerun of Gunsmoke. I watched without a single thought passing through my mind until my cell rang. It was Lurch. He had just made it in from his trip.

  He wanted to know what was going on. He had heard in St. Louis that Jesse was arrested for George’s murder. I went through the details of her confession. I had to thank him for recognizing that the Russian’s girl could have been Jesse. I was still trying to figure out how I felt about the way things had worked out. It helped to go through the developments that night. As I told him that at first that clue pointed to the Russian being the murderer, it reminded me how easy it had been to jump to conclusions. It felt good to think through the way Henderson’s interview turned up the fact that Jesse, too, had means, motive, and opportunity. I didn’t previously suspect her because I had a lot of misconceptions and prejudices, and I listed them off to Lurch. Lurch seemed relieved it wasn’t the Russian as well. Like me, he found it hard to believe Jesse was in fact a murderer. He added that it was truly difficult to really know a person.

  “Ben, you may be surprised, but I did take your advice and talk over my schedule with Kim. I brought up the possibility of living together too. You will probably be glad to hear that we decided to give our dating relationship some time to see how she handles the schedule or lack thereof. She seemed relieved that I was willing to take more time. I think we both feel better about the decision to give our relationship the opportunity to grow before we try to settle major decisions like marriage. I wasn’t too happy with your advice several weeks ago, but I feel different about things now. Thanks, Ben.”

  “That’s great, Lurch. I wish you both a God-blessed relationship.”

  I have always appreciated Lurch as a fellow trainman, but after this conversation I felt sure our friendship would have a deeper dimension in the future. I looked back at the television and noticed that Gunsmoke was over. The Rifleman was on. My mood now elevated, I sat down to enjoy the show. My cell rang again. I was tempted not to answer, but it was Indiana. I would be missing a good show, but I decided I should take the call.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  Indiana yelled into the phone. “Big Ben, did you hear? Jesse has been arrested for George’s murder. See Ben, I told you I didn’t do it. I told the truth, Ben. I didn’t do it.”

  I replied, “I’m glad to hear it, Indiana.” Reluctant to mention my involvement, I said, “I guess you’re out of jail.”

  “I was released two days ago. My third wife came up with the bail money. I think she wanted me back to work for the child support. I can return to work tonight. I will probably get the W145 for 0100. I never thought I would be so happy to go to work, but I am. One last thing, Ben. Thanks for visiting me in the clink. I needed someone to believe me, and you did. I won’t forget it, Ben. Thanks.”

  And just like that, he hung up.

  I was still enjoying the afterglow of Indiana’s happy call when Deb came down the stairs.

  “Ben,” she said, “remember how we always start the Christmas letter with a Scripture verse? I was wondering if you like Psalm 119:160 for this year. It says, ‘All your words are true; all your righteous laws are eternal.’”

  “How did you come to think of that one?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s been on my mind for a while. The women’s Bible study has been studying Psalm 119, and that verse just took root in my heart. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

  “Wow, Deb. Did you hear my phone ring? That was Indiana on the phone just now. He’s out, he’s back to work, and he called to thank me for visiting him. When I was there with him in the jail, I remember suggesting he read Psalm 119 for help. I think God picked this Scripture for us. It would be perfect for this year’s Christmas letter.”

  I gave her a hug, feeling some much-needed peace and joy. God had acted in the midst of all our misconceptions to show his eternal truth and righteousness.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  T. A. Huggins was born and raised in Northwest Pennsylvania. She received her PhD in Leadership Administration in Higher Education from Indiana State University. She taught Anatomy and Physiology for the majority of her teaching years. This is her first fiction work. She has published some fifty-plus Christian articles for various denominations. She is married to a retired locomotive engineer and has two adult daughters. They live in Avon, Indiana, during the summer and fall and live in the Tampa Bay area in the winter and spring.