The Day Steam Died Part 11

"You have a keen eye for detail and a nose for a good story. I thought I might bring you along and try to make a journalist out of you. Interested?"

Candi bristled and shot back. "Listen, I'm an artist with a camera. I already know how to write stories and ill.u.s.trate them with my photos. And I don't intend to spend the rest of my career taking pictures for this rag. I have plans. I expect to win a Pulitzer someday photographing what's going on in Africa, where people are dying by the thousands every day from starvation or at the hands of some maniac dictator. It's called photo journalism and it's more rewarding than playing detective in some high school vendetta you have going on."

Rick stared at her, blinking several times before responding. "I had no idea you had such high aspirations and low opinion of me. I thought we worked pretty well together on the campaign. But if you don't think it's important, I can get somebody else."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, but you didn't deserve that," Candi said, softening her voice. She liked Rick, thought he was a good journalist, but his obsession with Tank Johnson was something of a mystery to her. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. I'll go with you if you still want me to."

Rick smiled like he'd expected it to go this way from the start.

Rick and Candi arrived at Benny's Brew and Beanery early. Each nursed a beer, against company policy, while waiting for George to show up. The atmosphere between them had warmed and they were actually enjoying a non-work related conversation.

"You must find life down here boring after living in New York City," Rick said.

"Life does move a little slower, but that isn't all bad. College in the big city can wear on you. I just needed to get away from a lot of stuff when I graduated."

"But why Raleigh?"

"Dan made me an offer, and here I am. What about you? What did a small town reporter have to do to get the City Desk as his first job after college?"

"I covered a pretty nasty strike at the Coastline Railway Shops in my home town. Coastline was the only employer in the town. It boomed during World War II, but after the war the obsolete steam engines were replaced by diesels and they wanted to shut down the Shops. Sam Johnson was Chief Superintendent, which is the equivalent of vice president of operations in other industries. When the strike got violent, he had the governor call in the National Guard to put down the violence."

"Wow, some story. Is Sam Johnson's involvement why you're going after his son?" "That's a long story. I'll give you the short version. Tank broke me and my girlfriend up by having his dad move their family out of town."

"Why would he do that?"

Rick shrugged. "Tank had it out for me in high school. He just picked on me nonstop. I guess when he saw me happy for once, he had to stop it any way he could. My girlfriend's father, like everyone's fathers, worked for Sam. So . . ."

"So he had her family moved? Sam Johnson has more leverage than I thought."

"You could say that. I covered the strike while a student at the local college and worked part-time at the town newspaper. I interviewed Sam, and he dropped several bombs in my lap during the strike that torpedoed the Union's bargaining position. Anyway, I was covering the strike every day, and the Raleigh Times Herald paid a nice fee for rights to run my stories, which they then fed to the a.s.sociated Press. It was a good deal. They didn't have to send a reporter and we made some money. Dan liked my work and dangled a job in front of me if I would transfer to N.C. State. And the rest you know."

"Pretty neat story. I think I like you better out of the office. You turn into some little Dan Jenkins robot back there."

"Be careful. Dan's my best friend. You'll see what a good guy he can be the longer you work for him."

"I hope that won't be too long. I was serious about going to Africa. I want to feel like I'm really doing something worthwhile."

"Like getting yourself killed? Do you know how much bounty those rebels put on capturing a white woman over there? They don't play by the rules and thumb their nose at any effort by the U.N. to settle the civil war."

"Why, Rick, you sound like you care what happens to me. I'm flattered."

"Well, there are things you don't know about me too. I do care. I cared deeply about my high school girlfriend, too. We were going to get married. Tank and I had fights over the lies he spread about Ann. He did everything he could to break us up. He said or did something to her that she wouldn't talk about. She was upset for several weeks. The next thing I know she and her family were gone. I'll never forgive him or his father. And now Sam is running some kind of suspicious business that law enforcement doesn't seem to care about, but I care. "

Rick definitely liked Candi better in a relaxed atmosphere free of smoke. But their interaction came to an abrupt end when George Klinger showed up.

"Hi, guys, sorry I'm late. Had to interview some grieving mother for the five-thirty news." George settled into a seat at their table. "What are you up to these days, Rick, now that the campaign is over?

"Just looking for the next story."

George laughed. "I miss you guys hanging around, I really do. That was a fun gig. Sam gave me a free hand in handling the media campaign."

"I'm glad you brought that up," Rick said, opening up his notepad. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Sam's involvement in Tank's election."

"Off the record?"

"If that's the way you want it."

"Okay, shoot. What do you want to know?"

"I think we can all agree that Sam was the primary financial supporter for Tanks race, right?"

"Yeah, you could say that," George said with a bite of sarcasm, "but you know what? If I had that much money, I wouldn't blow it on a political campaign."

"Exactly. So why was Sam so willing to spend nearly a million dollars on putting his son in the General a.s.sembly?"

George put up his hands is false defense. "Hey, man, you got me. I didn't get involved in all the finance stuff. I just turned in a requisition for what I needed and got a check to pay for it. It was great. I didn't ask questions and they didn't bother me as long as Tank's poll numbers showed him leading by double digits."

Candi cut in with a quick question. "Who coached Tank and wrote his speeches? And why didn't we ever see him with the campaign entourage?"

"Some Italian guy named Deano pretty much called the shots," George said with dismissiveness. "They were big buddies in college. He stayed out of sight most of the time. I don't know what his deal was, but when he talked, Tank listened. On the bus or in the hotel when we were on the road, he was in Tank's ear all the time."

"Is this guy still Tank's quarterback?" Rick asked.

"He's some kind of special a.s.sistant, so his name doesn't show up on the organization chart."

"Where does Sam's money come from?" Candi jumped in again. "He's a big shot at Coastline Railway, but he can't afford to sh.e.l.l out nearly a million from his own pocket."

At that question, George took his time to forming a response. Finally he said, "He owns some kind of distribution company on the side, a warehouse somewhere," and then stood. "Look, I have to run and edit that interview. It's been fun. Check you guys later." He headed for the door.

"Where?" Rick shouted after him, "Where is his warehouse?"

Klinger hit the door and yelled back over his shoulder, "Winston-Salem, I think."

"Well," Rick said, turning toward Candi, "I believe we got enough information to at least know where to start looking."

"A warehouse in Winston-Salem. Could be anything."

"You did okay back there, good questions. You might make a journalist yet," Rick teased.

"I listen in on you and Dan and pick up pointers when you have your little office huddles. I think it went well, except I didn't get any pictures."

"This was off the record, remember? There will be other chances. We might stakeout some spots to see who Tank hangs out with."

"This is getting creepy. You've been watching too many Crime Stopper TV shows," Candi chuckled.

Rick joined in her laugh. "This was good. We need to do this more often."

"Talk to Klinger?"

"No, no. I mean you and I need to get out of the office more. We make a good team." Rick smiled and carefully slipped his pocket recorder out to check the quality of the taped conversation.

"You liar," Candi said in feigned disgust. "You said this was off the record."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't use it in print, but it will help us crack their security wall and get some answers."

"And what would that be?"

"Proof of what kind of business Sam is involved in and why it was worth the better part of a million dollars to make sure his son won the General a.s.sembly race. If we solve that, you'll see the biggest scandal that has ever hit this state. It won't only bring down Tank and his General a.s.sembly cronies but also shake up Coastlines corporate offices in Was.h.i.+ngton. And for that, my friend, we may win the Pulitzer."

Chapter 24.

"Thaddeus Banks poured millions of dollars into his town, and these Shops to provide the best life style that could be found anywhere in this state."

Called home Newspapers were strewn across Rick's desk. A half-full cup of yesterday's coffee sat on the right side of his typewriter. Copy sheets liberally sprinkled with red marks lay in the middle of his desk. Usually in his chair checking copy by eight o'clock, it was almost nine when Rick walked stiffly into his office. Before he could get a fresh cup of coffee, Candi was standing in his doorway.

"What's up? Are we still working together?"

"Let me get some coffee first," Rick said as he brushed past her and headed for the break room.

Armed with a steaming cup of special blend of South American Chicory coffee Dan provided to his staff, that only the two of them could stomach, Rick stopped by Dan's office first.

"Glad you could make it," Dan said, "I was beginning to worry about you." He acknowledged Rick's presence without looking up from his Charlotte Observer, their compet.i.tion for best newspaper in the state.

"Sorry. I got a call from home this morning. My father is back in the hospital, and the doctor doesn't give him much longer. His lungs are just about gone, and the oxygen machine is all that's keeping him breathing. That puts a strain on his bad heart. It's just a matter of how long his heart will last. But, don't worry. I'll stay on top of Tank's story."

"I'm sorry to hear about your dad." Dan put down his paper. "Look, he won in a free election, so we're stuck with Tank for at least two years. There's nothing we can do about that. If you need some time off, take it. Your family is more important than any story. When you come back, I've got something else I want you to look into. Point shaving at State. We can talk about it when you get back."

"Thanks. I want to make sure everything is in place, just in case anything happens. It shouldn't take more than a few days. What about Candi?"

"She can go back into the photo pool until you need her. Take your time and give your mom my regards."

Candi was propped on the corner of Rick's desk when he returned, tapping her foot impatiently. She took a deep drag from the new filtered Pall Mall and exhaled the same time Rick walked through the door. He fanned the cloud of blue smoke with both hands to disperse it.

"Do you have some kind of death wish?" Rick asked, continuing to fan the smoke.

"No more than you do drinking that stuff. It's strong enough to rot your guts."

"How many times do I have to ask you not to smoke in my office?" Rick settled into his chair, still fanning the smoke. "If you want to kill yourself, do it in your own s.p.a.ce, I hate walking around smelling like a dirty ashtray."

"Gee, and all this time I thought we were getting to be friends."

Rick ignored her sarcasm. "I'm going to take a few days off, so you'll be back in the photo pool for a while. I appreciate your help and good work covering Tanks race," he said in a more serious tone. "We're not through with him yet. But right now I have some family matters to attend to."

"No problem. I'll be here when you bet back. Sorry about your dad. I heard you telling Dan. I lost both my parents when I was in college-killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. They were on their way to visit me. If you ever want to talk about it, I have a years' worth of therapy I can share with you."

She didn't wait for a reaction. Candi left Rick's office with a fog of blue smoke hanging like a dark storm cloud over his desk.

Surprised at her openness, Rick rocked back in his chair and wondered what else he didn't know about his photographer. He pounded the desk with his fist. Why couldn't he be more civil to Candi? In spite of her New York brashness and disregard for social courtesies, she was beginning to grown on him. He knew she was a great photographer, pretty, and had a keen sense of observation. Her myopic eye for detail let her notice that every time Tank was nervous or unsure of himself, he tended to blink his eyes faster than usual.

Ever since that day in Benny's, Rick arranged a.s.signments so they could be together, but neither would let the other get too close. The little annoyances about Candice kept her at a safe distance, at least for now. It had been over six years since he last saw Ann. Dan was right, he needed to get on with his life, and she was the closest thing to a relations.h.i.+p he had had since Christmas of 1955.

Chapter 25.

"He built one of the best schools money could buy while running three s.h.i.+fts a day to keep up with the demand of the war effort."

Sad Return Things had changed since Rick had left Bankstowne. People were resigned to the fate that awaited them when the Shops shut down operations at the end of the year. A few homes were already empty with For Sale signs in their front yards. Others were getting rundown because laid off workers hadn't found work yet. The beautiful city park that had been paved over for a shopping center was half empty now.

It was strange not to see steam engines lined up waiting their turn in the roundhouse, belching out their acrid black smoke. He actually missed those dark clouds of smoke and soot that covered the town.

The lawn in front of his parents' home was overgrown and brown. He could tell it hadn't been mowed for a while before cold weather killed it off. Mary Beth's flowerbeds were full of weeds, and her annuals hadn't been dug up to make room for next year's planting.

The front door wasn't locked. Rick paused a moment, shook his head, and then walked into the house without knocking. It was good to be home again.

He found his mother sitting at the kitchen table. She looked up when he entered, momentarily startled, and then rushed to him for a big hug.

"Hi, Momma. How's Daddy doing?"

"About as good as he can," she said as she held onto the embrace. "They sent him home with one of those breathing machines like he had at the hospital. But I'm afraid he's given up."

Tears welled up in Mary Beth's eyes. Rick looked away; he had never seen his mother cry.

Mary Beth let go of Rick and pulled out a handkerchief to dab her eyes dry. "He didn't want to go to the hospital, told the doctor he wanted to die at home." Her voice was stronger now. "He sleeps most of the time. I'll be fixing his lunch in a few minutes and will wake him up so you can visit with him. Don't expect too much. He can hardly speak and is so weak it tires him out to talk much."

Rick's attempt at conversation with his father proved frustrating. Even when Roy mustered the strength to respond, Rick couldn't understand what he was saying. He just smiled and shook his head as if he understood. The few ounces of broth from chicken noodle soup Mary Beth spooned into Roy were more for her benefit than Roy's. The IV was his real lifeline, but her effort to feed him kept her feelings of helplessness at bay. She knew it was coming but wasn't ready to admit that she was watching him die a little each day.

"How's your job going," Mary Beth asked after cleaning the broth that leaked from the corners of Roy's mouth and fluffing his pillow.

Rick and Mary Beth retreated to the kitchen table covered with the same worn gingham print plastic cover they used at the old apartment.

"It's going well, Momma." He never got into the details of his work, especially his ongoing pursuit of Tank's investigation.

"Gladys comes to sit with your daddy so I can go to the grocery store. With you boys gone and Roy not eating much, it doesn't take many groceries nowadays," she said wistfully. "Don't know what I'm going to do when he's gone. It will be lonesome here all by myself. Sometimes I wish I had learned to drive so maybe I could go to church once in a while."

"I'm sure you can get someone to pick you up if it becomes a problem. It'd be best if you kept up with some friends."

"I'll have my soap operas to keep me company. In the evenings I always watch The Lawrence Welk Show and GE Mystery Theater. I watched The Ed Sullivan Show when the Beatles were on, and I half liked them," she confessed.