The Day Steam Died Part 20

Chapter 43.

"The new facility in Atlanta offered opportunities for some, but modern automation reduced the number of jobs needed there, bringing many back home to the comfort of the town they had built."

Undercover visit Rick pulled his Corvair into an unmarked driveway. Melted snow had turned the graveled parking lot into a quagmire. The only cleared area was full of twenty or so employee cars. Rick thought it strange that there was no sign for visitor or vendor parking. His suspicion that they were hiding something reinforced his earlier theory. There was no sign on the building to identify the company and its plain metal structure with no windows felt unwelcoming.

"See if you can work your way around back to the loading dock by the tracks," Rick instructed Candi, who had walked around the car with her 750 zoom lens Ha.s.salblad draped over her shoulder. "And if anybody sees you, just tell them you're doing cover photos for a feature piece I'm writing on the resurgence of railroad shipping, or something like that. If that happens, see if you can talk to them and find out what they know about the operation. Okay?"

"Sure, I love tramping around in mud and snow deeper than my boots," Candi replied. She headed toward the end of the building to sneak across to the other side of the tracks to get a good view of the loading dock.

Rick continued scanning the building for security cameras, but if they were there, he couldn't spot them.

The front door was gray and metal with only a short viewing slot at eye level. A floral wreath hung from the door. Its purple sash bore golden letters: In Loving Memory of Jerry Blackmon, Beloved Husband and Father.

Finding no door handle, only a deadbolt key hole, Jerry punched the b.u.t.ton on the call box. He waited impatiently. No response. He punched the b.u.t.ton again and held it for a few seconds. After the second ring, the viewing slot slid open, revealing a pair of wrinkled eyes behind wire-mesh gla.s.s.

The speaker hissed before it delivered a high-pitched message barely audible over the background static. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Rick Barnes and would like to speak to Ronnie Gains."

"What about?" she shot back.

"I want to make sure he got his leather jacket back okay." He felt uncomfortable being grilled by some stranger behind a metal door. He was the reporter and was supposed to ask the questions.

The woman opened the door and invited Rick inside in a softer tone than came through the outside speaker. She was a short, graying woman. She showed him to a seat in the corner of the small office.

His eyes started burning as soon as he stepped inside the door. The air was heavy with a blue haze of cigarette smoke. Rick already didn't like this person or place. He dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief then looked around, visually recording the room and its contents. There was a coffee table with a few tattered magazines scattered on it in front of a well-worn couch. They obviously weren't accustomed to visitors other than the vending machine man.

"Wait here. I'll go get him," the woman said and left through a door that displayed an Employees Only sign.

Rick noted the spa.r.s.e furnishings of the office, no visible communication system with the warehouse area, and a couple of filing cabinets he would love to be able to get into.

Rick got up and wandered toward two desks that faced each other on the other side of the office to see anything that was lying open. Each desk had Snowpak splattered IBM Selectric typewriters and a wide bed IBM spreadsheet machine. One desk had a nameplate: Mrs. Marie Short. But there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The employees-only door swung open, catching Rick by surprise. The woman led two men into the office.

"Mr. Barnes, this is Ronnie Gaines." The woman motioned her head toward the lanky young man in a watch cap and coveralls pulling his gloves off. She went back to work at the desk with the nameplate.

"Hi, Ronnie, remember me?" Rick extended his hand.

"Yeah, I know who you are. I thank you for mailing my jacket back, but you could've called and saved yourself a trip." Without another word, Ronnie turned to go back through the door.

"Hey, Ronnie, could I speak with you for a moment?" Rick asked and motioned toward the couch in the corner.

"What for? I got work to do. I ain't got time to talk to no reporter," he said and opened the door.

Joey who, had been standing unnoticed in the background, blocked Rick's path when he tried to follow Ronnie into the warehouse. "Mr. Gaines is busy, Mr. Barnes. I'll walk you to the door." Joey said sternly.

Rick was in no position to argue with the tall, muscular man in the dark suit. Olive-colored skin and dark, slickedback hair in a ducktail further convinced him this must be the Mafia goon Dan was talking about.

Rick raised his hands in surrender, stepped back and turned his attention to Marie.

"Mrs. Short, I noticed a wreath on the front door. Do you mind if I ask who that's for?" Rick asked, working his way over to her desk.

Joey stepped back but kept Rick under close surveillance.

"That's for the husband of the woman that works at the other desk. He worked for the railroad but was like one of our own employees. They met here and were like a son and daughter to me."

Rick had hit a soft spot on the tough, guarded woman. If he played sympathetic, this might be his chance to pry some information from her. But he had to get her away from the Mafioso.

Marie hung her head. "They have two beautiful children who won't have a father now because of me."

"Mrs. Short, you're upset," Rick said. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable over on the couch?" He took her hand, gently pulled her up from her chair, and led her to the couch.

She didn't resist the charm Rick was laying on her. She paused, took a breath, and continued. "He died in an accident during the snow storm. His truck went over the side of the mountain on 421," Marie said as her emotions worked their way to the surface.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Rick said in feigned sincerity, thinking he might be able to take advantage of her emotional state. "What was her husband's job here at the warehouse?" Rick slipped a question between snubs into her handkerchief.

Joey watched every move closely.

With no response to his first question, Rick tried again. "Mrs. Short, how long have you worked here at S & T Distributing Company?"

"Ever since it's been here. I was the first person hired," she said with pride.

"Well then, you've seen the company grow over the years."

She went from teary eyes and sniffles to a sure tone and smile. "Yeah, we started out with a couple of box cars a week. Now we sometimes have three a day."

"That's amazing. What's the major product your company ships from here?" This was it. Rick was about to get the big scoop he sought.

Marie's face went from a smile to a deep frown as fast as flipping a light switch off. She nodded to Joey as she spoke to Rick. "You're a nice young man, Mr. Barnes, but I think you'd better leave now."

Joey stepped forward before the words were out of her mouth. He reached down and pulled Rick from the couch effortlessly and held onto Rick's arm as he escorted him to the front door. "You have a good day, Mr. Barnes, and don't come back," he said through tight lips.

After being all but tossed out, the door slammed shut behind Rick.

Candi wasn't back to the car yet. Rick shook his arm to get the feeling back from Joey's crushing grip. He turned his attention toward the end of the building and looked at the woods across the tracks from the warehouse. Curious about what was around back of the building, he headed in that direction.

Ronnie and Joey came around the corner of the warehouse with Candi in tow.

"You people are lucky I didn't call the cops," Ronnie shouted. "I don't know why you reporters are snooping around on private property, but don't let us catch you here again, you understand? Now get out of here and don't come back."

They shoved Candi toward Rick and stood with their arms folded like a couple of bouncers, waiting for the couple to leave the property.

Candi twisted away from Rick's grasp that saved her from falling onto the muddy gravel parking lot. She shouted back at the two bullies, "Hey, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, give my film back!"

"Oh, you mean this?" Ronnie teased, holding the end of the roll of film. He tossed the canister at Candi exposing, the film as it played out of the canister.

Candi caught the empty container and threw it at them. "You a.s.sholes haven't heard the last of this, I promise."

Rick grabbed her arm and half-dragged her to the car. "Come on, let's get out of here before they call the cops. Are you okay, did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she said as they climbed into the car.

Rick backed the car out slowly at first then sent a cascade of muddy water over the parked cars on their way out of the parking lot. He didn't let up on the gas or take his eyes off the rearview mirror until they were back on I-40.

"What happened back there?" he asked.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think happened? They saw me tramping around in knee-deep slush in the edge of the woods taking pictures of them loading a couple of boxcars. That big redneck came after me and dragged me to the loading dock."

"That would be Ronnie," Rick said.

"Then that big Italian guy grabbed my camera and took the film out. They didn't bother to ask me what I was doing there. They just grabbed me and brought me out front. You know the rest." Candi paused to catch her breath. "Actually, I'm not okay! I've just ruined a brand new pair of two hundred dollar boots, thank you very much. So, let's just skip the Marriott and visiting your mom. I've had enough fun for one day."

Chapter 44.

"A valiant attempt to keep the Shops open sent workers to be trained on the new diesel locomotives at converted work stations at the Shop facility."

House of cards "Go ahead, old man, blame me for all your problems," Tank said as if Sam was still in Tank's office. "If I'm worthless as a son, you can take some credit for that. You never acted like a father or were there if I wanted to talk about my problems. You just gave me money, the prescription that fixed everything. Well, it won't fix things this time. And you're right, playing football was all I was ever good at and you took that away from me."

Fatigue saturated every muscle in Tank's overweight body. He propped a pillow under his weary head, stretched out on the couch, and was drifting off to sleep.

"Sir, is there anything I can get for you before I leave?" His Chief of Staff, Jeff Arminger had slipped into the room unnoticed during Tanks alcohol-induced soliloquy.

Tank's puffy eyelids opened partway, his bloodshot eyes cutting toward the sound from behind the couch. Trying to sound tired instead of drunk, he worked his jaw so he didn't slur. "How long have you been standing there, Jeff?"

"We finished early on that tax proposal reb.u.t.tal bill. I just came by to see if you needed anything else before I leave."

"You're a good man, Jeff. You always have the right answer." Tank's words slurred despite his effort. "I'm fine. You go on home to your wife and baby daughter."

"Yes sir, I hope you sleep well."

Tank laid his head down again. His breathing deepened, releasing his consciousness to a darkness where he could finally hide from himself.

Jeff took the empty gla.s.s from Tank's hand before it dropped and spilled on the carpet. He spread a white blanket with the big sky blue NC Tar Heel logo over his boss as he had done on many occasions.

Chapter 45.

"Several stalls were converted in the roundhouse to accommodate diesel repair work. That effort wasn't enough to save the Shops. A modern facility had to be built in Atlanta."

Three weeks later Ann removed the wreath from the front door of the drab building. Inside, she sat at her desk for a moment of reflection then plunged back into a world that weighed heavy on her conscience. She wasn't excited about being back at work but had moped around the house long enough, driving Alice to physically push her out the door.

Work would help chase away the deep aching in her heart when she walked around in their once happy home. Alice did her part making her get up from her refuge in bed to take care of Ricky and Libby. They needed their mother back in their lives to reestablish a daily routine. They were hurting too. Ricky acted up at school and spent time in the princ.i.p.al's office. Libby was too young to grasp the finality of Jerry's death. She was old enough to understand her daddy was never there to kiss her goodnight before she went to bed. She still cried herself to sleep in her mother's arms.

Ann had long since cried herself out of tears. He was never coming back. It was time to put her life back together. A meeting with Ricky's teacher and intensive mother and children time had restored normalcy to the Blackmon house. Now she had to deal with work.

An eerie quiet hung over the office. Marie was always the first one there and had a pot of coffee ready to jumpstart the day. When she was too sick for work, which was almost never, she called Ann at home to let her know. But today, she wasn't in the office.

Ann walked out to the warehouse. "Marie, are you out here?" she called, hoping to hear Marie's cranky, Monday morning voice respond, "Where else would I be?"

She didn't answer.

"Haven't seen her," Ronnie replied from the center of the warehouse.

"Has she called?"

"Nope."

"Was she okay Friday when you left?" she asked.

Ronnie shuffled over, puffing from his cigarette habit of ten years. "With her, how can you tell? She's always grouchy, especially at Joey. They really got into it a couple of weeks ago while you were out when a reporter from Raleigh showed up. After they left, he was so mad I thought he was going to kill her if she didn't shut up. You know, saying stuff like he had better be nice to her because she could put him and Sam behind bars for a long time if she wanted to. I don't know what she was talking about. She's crazy if you ask me." Ronnie's expertise at loading boxcars didn't mean he really understood what was illegally taking place right under his nose.

"Reporter?" Ann raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"I guess part of it was my fault," he stammered. "I was sitting behind the press section and spilled some beer on a guy at the Dixie Cla.s.sics basketball tournament. I apologized. We swapped coats so I could get his cleaned and send it to him. And he mailed my jacket back to me. Then he shows up here last week with a photographer, pretending to make sure I got it back okay. That's when he started asking a lot of questions like what we ship from here. Stuff like that."

"Why would a reporter from Raleigh be asking questions about our business?" Ann knew exactly why a reporter might be snooping around, but she wanted to pull some more information from Ronnie without him thinking much of it.

"I don't know, but we were working a couple of boxcars. Forklifts were all over the dock, loading about two thousand cases that day. The girl was sneaking around on the other side of the tracks at the edge of the woods, taking pictures. I snuck around behind her. She was a sc.r.a.ppy little thing. Nothing I couldn't handle, though." Ronnie puffed out his bony chest, proud of his actions.

"I dragged her kicking and screaming back to the dock. That's when Joey took her camera away. Then she really lost it, took a couple of swings at Joey. She talked like a Yankee and cussed us out like a sailor. We took her around to the front parking lot where the guy was looking for her. I exposed her film and she cussed us all the way to their car."

"I hope you didn't hurt her. The last thing we need is a lawsuit on our hands. Did the reporters say what newspaper they worked for?"

"Don't worry. The girl wasn't hurt except maybe her pride. She was just mad about the film. He wanted a tour of the warehouse, but I told him I didn't have time to mess with him. He started in on Marie next. I left the office. You'll have to ask Joey if you want to know what happened in there. After about fifteen minutes Joey came out to the warehouse pretty steamed. He said the reporter was gone. That's when we saw the girl."

"Ronnie, do you know where their car was parked?"

"Yeah, right over there." Ronnie pointed to a spot diagonally across from the front door. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing, just curious. Thanks. I need to find out where Marie is. I'll get back to the reporter issue later."

Ann hurried to her desk and dialed Marie's home number. It rang at least ten times before she hung up. Now she was really worried. This wasn't like Marie. Ann pulled her coat and gloves on and went back to the warehouse. She found Joey in his usual spot overlooking the warehouse floor.