Aunt Maggie hurried pass me, and ignored my presence after she got off the train. What happen? She walked so quickly it was as if someone or something was after her, she had the most distressful look on her face. The train station was filled with activity, it was thirty degrees, foggy, and misty in Portland this evening and everyone was trying to stay warm until their train arrives. People were busy on their computers; some were buying snacks and drinks. I notice the smell of fresh pretzels, and popcorn. A big red sign in the middle of the station indicates where to go for tickets.
I watch Aunt Maggie to see if she would turn around when I called out to her, but she didn’t, she entered the cab as swiftly as she walked, and then she was gone. On November 20, 2014, I agreed to pick my aunt Maggie up at the station. She arrived on the 10:00 evening train coming from Rutland, Vermont to Portland, Maine. She normally comes for a visit every year around the holidays.
This is not like my Aunt Maggie; she must have encountered a problem on the train. She is a lovable person, honest, and apparently afraid of something. I better go home, because that is where she will be. When I got home, there Aunt Maggie was waiting on the cold leaf covered damp terrace.
My Aunt Maggie’s name is Margret Johnson. She is a 55-year-old and very mature. Aunt Maggie has a rose pink complexion with brown eyes, shoulder length auburn hair, and she is 5 feet 7 inches tall. She loves people and works as a Registered Nurse. She has a brown and blonde colored chow dog name Snow. She reads a lot in her spare time and likes horses. She lives in Rutland, Vermont. She eats a boiled egg, toast, and two strips of bacon almost every morning for breakfast. She loves iced tea with lemon. When she is nervous, she grinds her teeth. Her husband died a couple of years ago, that was a very sad time for her.
“Aunt Maggie, are you alright?” Charlotte asked worriedly.
“I’m sorry Charlotte, no I’m not alright,” Aunt Maggie replied with her head in her hands.
“Well will you please tell me what is wrong?”
“Could I have something to drink first?” asked Aunt Maggie.
“Sure,” replied Charlotte.
“I saw a man get strangled to death while I was on the train. The man who did it knows I saw him.”
“I heard a strange noise, and I turned around, then I saw this man pulled the stocking from around the other gentleman’s neck. He looked up and saw me gazing at him, and I turned back around in my seat instantly.”
“That is the same man that got into the cab behind me. He followed me home, now he knows where we live,” said Aunt Maggie wiping tears from her eyes.
Aunt Maggie is so upset and frighten, we must call the authorities to alert them to what has happen, if not that man will get away with murder. I decided that we go down to the police station together, so Aunt Maggie can tell her story. She didn’t want to go at first, so I had to convince her it was important for our safety.
Once we got inside the police station, it was very busy: there were officers pounding away at their computers, people at the desk making complaints, and some were being hand cuff and taken down stairs to jail, and not freely, I might add, they were fighting it all the way. My aunt and I got in line to tell what she saw and there were at least eight people ahead of us. We waited and waited, and then finally it was our turn.
“Yes sir, after he killed the man, he sat him up in the chair and put newspaper in front of him to help cover up what he done. Then he looked around to see if anyone was watching, and he caught me starring in his direction.”
“He came over to where I was sitting, and he threaten me. He said if I tell anyone what I saw, he would hunt me down and do the same thing to me and my family.”
Just then a call came in on the radio saying an unidentified man was found dead on the train about an hour ago. That confirms my Aunt Maggie’s story. Now they just need to find the man who did it. The officer advised us to stay with other family members or check into a hotel, since this man knows where we live. We took the officers advice and went to a hotel not far from the police station; the Comfort Inn is not a bad place to live for a few days, so we checked in and found they have lots of amenities. You get free breakfast, and free high speed internet. The beds are comfortable and the rates are reasonable.
My Aunt Maggie and I settled into our temporary quarters, and we decided to have some dinner. I ordered up dinner for my aunt Maggie and myself, so as to make everything as normal as possible. I didn’t want her to worry or be on edge. I turned on the TV, and then the murder’s face flash across the screen. His name is Clyde Broman.
“That’s him, that’s him,” Aunt Maggie screech.
I quickly turned the set off. After that, I tried to calm my Aunt Maggie again. Then I heard a knock on the door, “Dinner is here auntie.” I yelled. But when I opened the door, there’s no food. It’s a man holding a gun straight at me, and I backed up and let the man in the room.
“He’s the murder,” cried Aunt Maggie.
“Shut up, you nosey old bity, or I’ll blow your head off,” Broman said holding the gun on Aunt Maggie and looking around the room.
“Sir, please leave our room, we don’t mean you any harm,” I said nervously.
“Sit down and don’t say another word,” said Broman anxiously.
“I saw you and your aunt at the police station spilling your guts, but if they catch me you best believe my friends are going to take my place,” said the cruel man.
That dreadful man is holding us hostage; we are still waiting on dinner, hopefully they have not forgotten us. Maybe I could give someone a signal that we are in trouble. Everyone is quiet, looking at one another, no one knows what the other person is thinking, planning or what their intensions are, especially Broman.
Dinner came and as I got up to answer the door, Broman held the gun to my head, to make sure I don’t say any more than necessary.
“Enjoy your dinner,” said the waiter.
“Are you alright Miss Charlotte, is there anything else I could get you?” asked the waiter.
“Why yes, if you could bring me a cola instead,” giving the waiter a peculiar look and he agreed.
“Look Mister, you don’t have to keep waving that gun around. I said.
“If you know what’s good for you ma’am, (he poked her in the head with his gun) you will sit down and shut up, like your auntie over there”.
We tried to eat our dinner, but under the circumstances, neither I nor my aunt had any appetite. We just pick at our food, hoping something will happen to get this intruder out of our lives forever. He sat there and watched us the whole time. All I could do is comfort my Aunt Maggie.
I enjoy it when Aunt Maggie comes for a visit during the holidays, she spreads so much cheer, and it makes everyone around her benefit from the season. If you are feeling down or depress she’ll help you to snap out of it. There are so many things to see and do this time of the year. She has been coming here to celebrate the holidays for over twelve years now. She has made it a tradition to visit Maine annually.
The murderer still held the gun on us and he watched my aunt and me like a hawk watching a chicken. I thought about the waiter, did he think something suspicious when I looked at him strange?
The phone rang; it seems as if the ring is louder, than normal. I thought maybe that’s a sign we may get help. When I reach to answer the phone, Broman yelled, “Don’t even think about it.” So the phone rang and rang. Minutes after that, someone pound on the door.
“Open up,” said the loud roar of a voice on the other side of the door.
When I heard that sound, I silently rejoiced. Finally, we have help. But just at that second the murderer grabbed me and held the gun to my back. The police kicked the door open and shot the murderer in the head; he fell to the floor and was dead on the spot. The pictures on the wall shook when he hit the floor. I ran to hug the waiter, and thanked him. My Aunt Maggie is so relieved that the murderer is stopped. She ran and hugged everyone in the room.
“What a relief, let’s go home,” Aunt Maggie suggested.
“Not so fast, said the officer. I question people on the train, and they saw you sitting and having a conversation with this man.”
“Why that can’t be true,” said Charlotte.
“It’s not true,” Aunt Maggie declared.
“I’m going to have to take you in for questioning, there’s more to this murder. I found a woman’s personal item next to the same seat Broman was sitting in,” the officer said.
My Aunt Maggie was handcuffed and taken in for questioning. I can’t believe this is happening. Finally they got the true story that it wasn’t my aunt Maggie that sat next to the murderer, it was another woman. Thank God!
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