Murder At The Job!



  Murder at the job!

  By

  David Jensen

  Copyright 2016 by David Jensen

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  This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

  Samuel walked along the long row of old lathes, milling machines and came to the area of Plant 2 where all of the newer machines were. His job was to control the coolant needed in the work processes in the machines. Most of the time Samuels job was so boring. Taking samples of the coolant to check if the lubrication percentage was in tolerance, the Ph level and the concentration of Nitrite in the sample. Sometimes it got somewhat interesting when technical problems occurred, but when things were worked out, the interesting problems became less and less as the time wore on. So when things were all 'in the green' it was a routine job which any idiot could do. Measure, calculate, and write it in the company log and on to the next machine! Menial work for someone who studied chemistry in college, but upon getting his degree, the job market had totally dried up. So any job is better than going downtown and standing on the colored bar at the Welfare office. That was simply a matter of intellectual pride!

  Samuel had always had problems with making friends, or keeping them for that matter, and his interaction with his other coworkers at least, was not on a friendly basis. He generally considered everybody under his level of intellect and was unfriendly and ignorant towards his coworkers. As the old saying goes; “What you scream into the woods is the echo which comes back to you!” So generally speaking, everybody treated him the same way in return, and after a while, more so. The bullying started about a year ago during their lunch break, and although anybody can go into the cafeteria for lunch hour, it was made clear from a few that he suddenly wasn't welcomed to join in with the others at the big dining table. Comments flew to the tune of; “Who let the dog in here!” Or; “You get mixed up and take a wrong turn?” He thought it would be better when springtime came, for then Charlie's Hot-dog Truck would be parked in front of the building, ready for the lunchtime run. Last year it was great to get one of Charlie's foot-long doggies and go sit on the cement planters to eat in peace. Little did he know how horribly different it would be for him this year.

  The sun was shining through a cloudless sky, but there was still the cool breeze of winter coming off of the shore of Lake Michigan. When the lunch-bell rang, everybody started running towards the door, as if the whole place was on fire! Samuel walked casually for there would already be a long line of customers, and at the front would be all the office workers. Nobody said anything when they left the workplace Five or even Ten minutes before the lunch-bell rang! Finally after almost half of the lunch break was over, Samuel had his Foot long in his hand, but before he could bite into it, Marcus was standing almost right next to him, grinning. “Go for it man!” Marcus said loud enough so that everybody would hear. “Come on Refugee! Show us how a Foot-long fits in your mouth at one time! Who o-wee man!” Marcus said as he was dancing around and holding his crotch. The flame burned in Sam's head and his appetite was now gone, but he bit into the Hot dog! He snapped his teeth as hard together as he could and simultaneously ripped the rest of the Hot dog brutally out of the bun and let it fly across the parking lot. Then he spit the bitten piece out and stomped it to mush on the concrete. Seeing the shocked face of Marcus was heavenly! “That's how we do it where I come from!” Samuel said and as he walked away, he knew the laughter was not directed at him. That was the first mention of his newly ordained nickname. “After that day, he was referred to as the refugee.” This coming from men who, for the most part, didn't even finish High School, not to mention any Vocational schooling! And although he wasn't to blame for the color of his skin and couldn't change it, they utilized it to forge their new name to bully him with.

  Marcus was always the biggest instigator of the whole bunch, which was in his blood as a country raised hick, (Sam figured his parents must have been siblings!), and he always had additional words to tack on to the 'the refugee' nickname. Such as Morocco, Nigerian, or one time even 'The Syrian Refugee. Aggression breeds the same, and as time went by, Samuel became more and more quiet, reserved and introverted. Sometimes he was not in a mentally good state of mind, especially when his medication wasn't working like it normally should, and he would react belligerent towards them when the bullying really got heavy, but mostly he tried to keep his head low. Until Marcus decided to start his second plan of attacks against him.

  “The coolant in my milling machine is bad and it stinks, and your job is to change it!” He said, “So do it!” Simply his attitude, which radiated off of Marcus like some kind of halo was enough to bring Samuels blood to a boil, but to be ordained from him what his job is or is not was the epitome of all that had till yet happened. “You haven't got shit to say about what I do or what my job is!” Samuel retorted. “And the coolant in your machine is totally okay, so shut your trap you dimwitted hillbilly!” Samuel thought that the subject was closed, but Marcus let the next bomb fall. “You know that my brother is the company representative for OSHA, so all I have to do is file a complaint to him that you're not doing the job correctly, and out the door you go, on your black ass!” He said, smiling like Garfield the Cat. “Do it!” Samuel said, and walked away, leaving Marcus fuming mad. The next day came and went without any new attacks and Samuel figured that Marcus was like all the others. All mouth and no action! But on the second day came the surprise.

  Samuel's boss called him into the office and showed him an E-Mail from the company Safety Officer in which it stated that after his visit to the workplace, he was ordering `the coolant from Marcus's machine shall be changed and freshly filled by the end of the week'. “They can't demand that because they don't even know if the coolant is good or bad!” Samuel said. Sam's boss calmly replied; “They can, and they did. And Marcus has the Ace card with his brother, so save us all a lot of hassle and simply do it.” So the next two days Samuel was busy 'doing his job' and the machine was finished, and back in production by the end of Friday. It was during the weekend that Samuel just couldn't forget about it and let it go. Lying awake, unable to sleep, it was like a lightning bolt idea which popped into his head. He was taking prescription medication and he had once joked with the Doctor about selling some of the pills on the Black Market. Whereby his Doctor said that; “although they calm you down a little, for a normal person with normal brain synapse it would be one of the best sleeping pills. Because nobody knew that he was taking medications, he figured that Marcus would be the perfect guinea pig on Monday. Just to see how damn good they work!

  On Monday while checking the machine where Marcus was working, Samuel took his sweet time controlling the coolant from the freshly filled machine. As Murphy's Law would have it, Marcus hung around and watched with eagle eyes what Samuel was doing. But then, luck was with him as he was going to walk to the next machine, for at that moment, Marcus left to get a coffee. This had freed Samuel to attempt his little experiment. On Sunday he had ground up almost fifty of his pills into a fine powder which he had filled into a small plastic envelope. Now as he reached over the coolant tank as if to take a sample, he let the powder slide into the tank. Walking away, Samuel started to sing; “Monday, Monday! So good to me!” He figured that it would be a good idea that he should check around here a little more often today, just to s
ee if by chance, it would work.

  And boy, did it work! Coming around the side of the machine, he could detect the strange taste in the air that he always got when the pills lingered in his mouth a little too long before swallowing them. And that was when he saw Marcus stumble around the corner of the table in front of the machine, as if he had already put a six-pack of beer away before noon! He'd been breathing it in with the vapors from the coolant, so he had to leave his workplace before the lunch break, and on orders from the boss he had to be driven home by someone else. But hey, the other worker took his time because drivers get reimbursed from OSHA, but Marcus lost hours of pay! Samuel just loved it knowing that he now had a form of revenge. And what if they had taken Marcus to the Doctors office? What would they find other than apparently he was drinking, or was coming down with influenza, or some