Death and Deflection: A Ben Time Mystery

By T. A. Huggins

Ben Time, locomotive engineer, finds himself bumped from the Saint Louis board. He lands on the Toledo Board, a much longer route and rather unfamiliar territory for Ben. As he begins to become familiar with the new territory his conductor on his second trip is found dead in his hotel room. All the railroad men staying in the hotel are suspect along with some compatriots that visit the nearby bar. A goodly portion of the suspect list is made up of a single railroad family, reminiscent of days gone by when the railroads employed many from the same family. Ben, being a member of the suspect list this time, has good reason to look into the third murder of his sleuthing career. Lurch, Ben’s friend, assistant, and favorite conductor, isn’t left out of the sleuthing. He continues to offer Ben helpful suggestions, even though he is on a different board. The two men continue on successfully in their new avocation of crime solving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665563673

T. A. Huggins

T.A. Huggins is a writer and Christian speaker. Huggins has her PhD in Leadership Administration in Higher Education from Indiana State University and has also written more than fifty Christian articles. Huggins is also the author of Murder and Misconception, and Bridges and Bodies both in her Ben Time Mystery series. Huggins lives in Avon, Indiana for most of the year, and in Florida during the winter months. Huggins is married to a retired locomotive engineer and has two daughters.

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© 2022 T. A. Huggins. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/28/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-6368-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-6367-3 (e)

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1 Indianapolis, June 9, 0800 EST

Chapter 2 Indianapolis, June 9, 1500 EST

Chapter 3 Toledo, June 11, 0730 EST

Chapter 4 Indianapolis, June 12, 0800 EST

Chapter 5 Toledo, June 13, 2300 EST

Chapter 6 Toledo, June 14, 1400 EST

Chapter 7 Toledo, June 15, 0700 EST

Chapter 8 Indianapolis, June 16, 0800 EST

Chapter 9 Indianapolis, June 19, 1100 EST

Chapter 10 Toledo, June 20, 1300 EST

Chapter 11 Indianapolis, June 21, 0800 EST

Chapter 12 Indianapolis, June 22, 0500 EST

Chapter 13 Toledo, June 23, 1030 EST

Chapter 14 Indianapolis, June 24, 1130 EST

Chapter 15 Toledo, June 25, 1400 EST

Chapter 16 Toledo, June 26, 0400 EST

Chapter 17 Indianapolis, June 28, 0830 EST

Chapter 18 Toledo, June 29, 2215 EST

Chapter 19 Indianapolis, June 30, 0940 EST

Chapter 20 Indianapolis, July 1, 1130 EST

Chapter 21 Toledo, July 2, 1400 EST

About the Author

PREFACE

H aving been married to a locomotive engineer for over forty years, I have tried to be true to the lifestyle of modern-day railroad employees, especially those in the transportation department. The incidents included in this book have had the facts changed to some degree so as not to embarrass, incriminate, or undermine those involved (mainly my husband); however, the murder is purely fictional. Any resemblances to actual events, organizations, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

The home life described is very factual with the coming and going of the locomotive engineers and conductors, entering and exiting family life like weary sailors on leave.

Finally, the facts concerning families employed by the railroads are well documented in railroad history.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my husband, who dutifully reads and rereads the entire manuscript for railroad technicalities. He put in his nearly forty years of railroad service only to retire and become my faithful proofreader. Thank you, dear, for your love, expertise, and help. I would also like to thank my editor, Lisa Lickel, for her work, suggestions, and kind words of encouragement. In addition, I would like to thank Authorhouse Publishing which provided invaluable service and suggestions as we moved from manuscript to the final product. Finally, I want to always include a hallelujah for my Savior and Lord, who guides and directs my path.

CHAPTER ONE

INDIANAPOLIS,

JUNE 9, 0800 EST

I rolled over onto my left side and opened my eyes. There, before me, bathed in the morning light, was my antique dresser, wallet, cell phone, and alarm clock radio. It was good to see familiar surroundings rather than those of yet another hotel room. I rolled over onto my right side and looked out the picture window with the blackening drapes pulled wide open. The window allowed full view into our perennial garden. Two weeks ago, I mulched it with extra thick black fertilizing mulch. The irises were up but now fading with a modicum of purple blooms and the lilies were leafed out but void of flowers so early in the summer season. The lilacs had finished their perfumed show of violet but were covered in a shade of green leaf that looked great against the deep black mulch.

I’d like to take credit for the perennial garden but the majority of credit of the plant selection and placement belonged to my wife, Deb. She loved to take trips west of Indianapolis into Amish country to choose flowers and drag them back for my brawny back to plant. She told me she likes to watch my muscles flex as I mulch and plant. I fell for this line each spring, wishing my brawny back wasn’t counter balanced by my protruding front. This morning as I viewed the spoils of labor and love it made the work worthwhile.

It had been some time since I had awoken slowly on a beautiful summer morning without a call from the railroad. I realized that I was even rested and thoroughly enjoying my leisurely rise. We had just returned from a visit to Oklahoma with my oldest daughter Trish. It was a great visit and I loved the slow beginning to my last day off. The smell of Columbian roast was drawing me into an upright stance. Deb must have started the brew before she left. She had warned me of her plans to rise early and go to some local garage sales with her two bargain-hunting cohorts, Linda and Connie.

I decided to go out to the glider in the garden with my coffee to enjoy the morning further. I walked through the great room toward the kitchen to pour my brew. As I filled my cup, the phone blared with the Don’t Worry Be Happy ring tone reserved for work. I was not expecting a work call so this was truly an intrusion. I answered, Ben Time here.

The deep male voice on the other end said, Mr. Time, you have been bumped from the Saint Louis pool. You have twenty-four hours to make a bump. Then I heard the distinct lack of sound that indicated the phone call had been terminated by my employer.

I could hardly believe my ears. I had held my position on the Saint Louis pool, the list of workers that make the same run, for eight years. In my case the pool consisted of locomotive engineers running from Indianapolis to Saint Louis and back.

I wondered who had the seniority to bump me from the Saint Louis board. It was a shock interrupting an otherwise great morning. I noticed that age was taking its course because I had lately begun to respond to change with dread, fear, and trepidation. I needed to investigate this ugly turn of events and find out if this was a legitimate bump and if so where I could bump.

I added milk to my cup and walked out to the garden still pondering my displacement from the pool. Our pools on the railroad were governed by union rules. One had the right to a position based on years of service. One had the right to bump or displace, a man from the pool position if he or she had more years of service. Men often bump to change the amount of time he was on a trip or to gain a different day off. I was two years from retirement and was quite confounded at the recent turn of events. In my confusion, I wandered toward the glider, sat for a few moments sipping at my coffee, and decided prayer would be a good place to begin my day.

As I looked at the beauty of the garden I was reminded that God the creator was in control of all things. I praised Him for who He was, for His goodness to our family, and for His mercy. I asked for His wisdom, care, and protection as I anticipated yet another change in my work life. After placing my concerns in His care, I felt ready to tackle the new turn of events.

Just then a crimson cardinal swopped down from the walnut tree and began to feed on fallen sunflower seeds. Cardinals always gave me hope. The mere glimpse of the bird, combined with prayer, had assured me that everything would be all right. I walked back to the house ready to take hold of whatever today, tomorrow, and the next would bring.

I showered and dressed in my round-the-house-wear, blue jeans and a pocket T-shirt. This outfit wasn’t really any different from my work wardrobe. Other than Sunday-church-wear I pretty much always looked the same. Deb said she would fall over in a dead faint if ever I robed otherwise. I didn’t want her fainting so I kept up appearances for consistency’s sake. My wife and I met when she was fifteen and I was eighteen years of age. We married after she finished undergraduate school. I began working on the railroad while she was in college. I had managed to keep her thirty some years now. She raised our two kids, worked, got a Ph.D. and remained in wedded bliss all these years, or so I tell myself.

I checked our computer for the newest roster on the Saint Louis pool. There it was, a new name, one I never heard of: Dale Newburn. My name was missing from the list. It was confirmed, I had been bumped from the pool. I needed a place to bump, myself. I looked over the Roselake pool, the Toledo pool, and the yard jobs. I decided the Toledo pool would be the one in which I could make the most money and, most importantly, where there was a man with less seniority that I could bump.

The Toledo runs were long and I would have to make a qualifying run first. I would like more than one run to learn the track but the railroad was currently busy and I was sure would not allow it. I made my decision, the Toledo pool it would be, and called the dispatcher and made my bump. I would be running from Indianapolis to Toledo either tomorrow or the next day.

I decided to call several of the guys to see if they knew who this Dale Newburn was and where he came from. I called my buddy, Lurch, first. Lurch was my favorite conductor and a good friend on the Saint Louis pool. He was six feet, seven inches tall, hence his nickname Lurch. He was a good worker with an agreeable personality. He and I had solved several crimes on the rails. Lurch had a logical mind and was a good asset in our crime-solving avocation.

When he answered, I asked, Hey Lurch, did you see that I’ve been removed from the Saint Louis pool?

Good morning to you, Ben, and no, I hadn’t called the stand number or searched the computer. Who could bump you with your seniority?

A fellow named Dale Newburn. Do you know him or have you heard from where he hails?

Never heard of him. He must be an old soul. Sorry to remind you of your age but you are old, Ben.

I have a great number of years of service. That’s the correct way of saying I’m old, buddy.

Yep. I’ll keep my ears open on the next run. I’ll most likely be called out within the next couple of hours. Have you made a bump yet?

I bumped onto the Toledo board just before I called you. I’ll need a qualifying run and hate to leave our pool. I’m going to give our pal, Indiana, a call and see if he knows this Dale Newburn. He’s been around longer than I have.

I think Indiana is over in Saint Louis. He may be sleeping off his last trip. Check his stand number first.

I will and have a safe run. I hung up and dialed the stand number. The stand number was helpful for both locomotive engineers and conductors. From this number we got the number of times out before we are called for our next trip, when our last trip finished, and how long it lasted. Basically, we can get an idea of when we might be next called to be on a train run. Indiana was a fellow locomotive engineer. He had been a loud nemesis at one time, always making fun of me and my faith in a voice as high a decibel range as he could muster at any given moment. After helping him get exonerated from a murder charge, he became a loud and faithful friend.

I called the stand number and learned that his last run was to Saint Louis at 2100 EST yesterday and he was eleven hours on duty. I decided to call him later today after he got some rest.

I looked on the computer to see who was on the Toledo roster. There were nine engineers listed. I knew five of them. I looked over the conductor roster and there were twelve names listed. I knew eight of them but didn’t know most well. I planned on checking the roster in the afternoon and letting the crew dispatcher know that I would need a qualifying run or two.

Just then I heard the garage door open. Deb must have returned from her treasure hunt. I went down stairs to greet her.

She placed her treasures on the kitchen table. I looked at the strange assortment. I learned some time ago that to remain in wedded bliss I should not refer to her treasures as junk. So, I just repeated the same phrase I used on my kids when they were young and brought home their art work. Tell me about these, I said as I kissed her on the cheek.

"That’s a plate that I’ll hang in the kitchen. It was created in occupied Japan by the Merit China company. Someday I hope to be able to paint flowers on china with detail just like that. The metal utensil is for slicing hard boiled eggs, and the paper cutter I can always use for school work. I only