The Hayloft: a 1950s Mystery (19 page)

“Naw, it’s too shallow for a big fish,” I
said. “And a small one wouldn’t make bubbles that size.”

“It’s natural gas,” Ed said. “You saw how it
burned.”

“How did you know about it?” I asked.

“From the letters your great grandfather
wrote to my great grandfather. My dad has a box full of them. They
make interesting reading. He told about the bubbles coming from the
stream on the farm. I read something recently about how natural gas
is being used for heating homes. A description of how one person
found it under a creek convinced me that these bubbles must be
natural gas. And now I know they are.”

“You almost burned yourself up to prove it,”
Sylvia said. “You and Ben Franklin flying a kite in a thunderstorm.
You’re either mad or you’re a genius.”

“I lean toward the latter appraisal,” Ed
said, grinning.

“So, is this gas worth anything?” I
asked.

Ed shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? But I
suspect that your aunt and your dad don’t want to tear up the farm
to find out. And they still own it together, don’t they?”

I nodded. Not wanting to get into that
discussion, I said, “Are you ready to go back?”

“Sure. I’ve proved my point.”

As we walked down the lane toward the house,
Sylvia and I continued to hold hands.

Ed said, “You guys look good together. Like
Mutt and Jeff.”

“I love you, too,” Sylvia said, “but I’ve got
a dog at home.”

***

At dinner, Aunt Dorothy was the one who brought up
Sylvia. She said, “Does Sylvia talk about her father?”

That sounded like a loaded question. I said,
“Not much. I believe he’s doing some freelance writing.”

“You have to be very careful. When you
associate with the devil, you’re going to get burned.”

I kept quiet. Although I had never been
loathe to argue with my father, my aunt was a different story.
Especially since she was giving me a place to stay.

Uncle Jeff said, “I take it you like
Sylvia.”

“She showed me around the school and made me
feel at home.”

He smiled. “That’s probably more of an answer
than I would have gotten from Ralph. I understand she’s president
of the student council.”

“Yes.”

“How are the students treating her?”

“Many of them won’t talk to her.”

“But you do. I think that’s admirable.”

“Your father isn’t going to like it,” Aunt
Dorothy said.

“Does he have to know?”

“He’s your father.”

That seemed to end that discussion, and I
didn’t dare say anything more. To talk about something more
comfortable, I told them about the natural gas Ed had
discovered.

“Yes, we know about that,” Uncle Jeff said.
“It’s sort of a tourist attraction. We take visitors down the lane
and show them the bubbles.”

“I understand that natural gas is being used
to heat homes,” I said. “Is there any money in it?”

“You mean, is it the next oil? Possibly so.
It’s too soon to tell.”

“I don’t want people coming and drilling
holes all over the farm,” Aunt Dorothy said.

“Even if it would make you a millionaire?”
Uncle Jeff asked, teasingly.

“Well…we could travel more.”

I liked the idea of having money, especially
since my father owned half the farm. I would have to talk to him
about it.

CHAPTER 19

I figured the best time to talk to Willie was
at cross-country practice. The team usually had a meet on Friday
afternoons, but there had been a meet against several other teams
yesterday, so they just had a light workout scheduled.

Sylvia had agreed to ride the bus home. She
no longer cared what the other students thought. Or so she said. I
took my sneakers to the practice, thinking that I might run
alongside Willie and talk to him then. I was a basketball player,
and he was a smoker, so I shouldn’t have any trouble keeping up
with him. The coach was a volunteer from the community, and I
doubted that he would mind if I participated in the practice.

I joined a dozen or so boys behind the
school. I wore long pants, because I thought it was too cold to run
in shorts, but there they were with their legs hanging out,
although most of them were wearing sweatshirts. I went up to Willie
and said hi.

He looked surprised and said, “It’s too late
to join the team.”

“I know, but I’d like to get in shape for
basketball.”

“I’m too short to play basketball.”

“Can I run along with you?”

“Be my guest.”

The coach was also wearing running clothes.
He often ran with the boys. I introduced myself to him and asked if
I could run with them. He said sure and joked that if I was good
enough, I could join the team next year. I told him I was a
senior.

We started out at an easy lope, taking a path
around the Carter playing fields. First we went around the football
field where the team was practicing for a big game on Saturday. I
also saw the cheerleaders doing their thing, led by Natalie. I’d
lost my desire for cheerleaders recently.

We headed toward the baseball diamond and the
tennis courts. My plan was to go out for the tennis team in the
spring. I ran alongside Willie, but the group was too closely
packed for me to talk to him about Dr. Graves. However, the boys
gradually strung out enough so that we were separated from the
others, although we were in the middle of the pack. I was surprised
that Willie was running easily and didn’t seem to be breathing
hard, although I was starting to pant.

It was hard to talk normally while panting,
but I attempted to, explaining that another boy had been found who
had gone up on the catwalk with Dr. Graves.

Willie shrugged and said, “Not surprising. He
gets around.”

I explained that the other boy would testify
about what had happened if Willie would.

“What’s the point?” Willie asked.

“Of testifying? To bring it to the attention
of the authorities. Possibly to get him fired.”

“What would that accomplish?”

“Well…it would put him out of business. Keep
other boys from getting hurt.”

“One, what makes you think he wouldn’t go and
get a job at another school? Two, do you think the boys are hurt
all that much?”

“What about you?”

“It didn’t exactly stunt my growth.” He
laughed. “Or maybe it did.”

I was no psychologist. And I was having a
hard time keeping up with Willie. I said, “Well, what do you think?
Will you do it?”

He looked at me and said, “Yeah, I’ll do
it.”

“Thanks.”

Having accomplished my purpose, I dropped
back. I kept running, but I was soon last among the runners and
losing ground. Cross-country was harder than I thought. We circled
the high school property and then headed toward Main Street. The
others obviously weren’t going to stop anytime soon. As we passed
the student parking lot, I saw my car beckoning to me.

I stopped and tried to catch my breath. By
the time my heart had slowed down to something approaching normal,
the runners were long out of sight. I was glad my sport was
basketball.

***

I grunted as I lifted a bale using two hooks, one at
each end. This was hard work, too. My plan was to remove enough
bales to create steps down to the corner of the hayloft. I had
promised Sylvia I wouldn’t try anything foolish. This wasn’t
foolish; it just involved massive physical effort. Well, maybe it
was foolish.

I had to carry the bales uphill, and the hill kept
getting higher as I needed more places to restack them. I moved a
few and then, as the job got harder, I had to stop and rest for a
few seconds each time I moved a bale up one tier. At this rate, it
would take me hours to complete the job.

My rest periods became longer and longer. I
rationalized that I didn’t have to finish today. Even if it took
several weeks, that shouldn’t be a problem. What if Ed came up here
and saw what I was doing? I would calmly tell him that I was just
helping him out. Helping us all out. I didn’t have to tell him that
I was skeptical about his story of the necklace being in the
hayloft. And the note supposedly written by Ralph? I hadn’t gotten
a close enough look at it to form an opinion. And Ed didn’t seem to
want me to look at it closely. I didn’t believe that Ralph was a
thief.

***

The horn of the peanut train woke me up. That was
unusual; I had been sleeping through the noise. But something about
it didn’t feel right. I turned on my bedside lamp and looked at my
Baby Ben windup alarm clock. It was almost 3 a.m. The train usually
went through about midnight. What had delayed it?

***

I went down to breakfast about eight. On
Saturday mornings I was allowed to sleep in a little. Aunt Dorothy
and Uncle Jeff were already up, of course. Aunt Dorothy was in the
kitchen when I went in to eat breakfast. She had the radio on.

When she saw me she said, “There was an
accident last night. Two boys from Carter were in a car that hit
the peanut train.”

“Who?”

She hesitated, not wanting to be the bearer
of bad news. She said, “The boys whose house you went to last
Saturday for the party.”

“Willie and Dennis? Were they…?”

She nodded. “They were killed. The police
said the car was going about eighty miles per hour when it hit the
train. And they had been drinking.”

***

I picked up Sylvia to take her to the
football game. When we had discussed the game, yesterday, she had
said she didn’t want to go. She had lost her school spirit.
Although I didn’t have a lot of school spirit, myself, I saw it as
an opportunity to show the student body that she had support in an
“up yours” sort of way. She agreed to go if I went with her.

She came to the front door after I rang the
bell, wearing her red skirt. Her first words were, “Did you hear
about Dennis and Willie?”

“Yes,” I said. I was having trouble
speaking.

“Come in. I want you to meet my mother.”

Sylvia’s mother was a no-nonsense woman with
short, graying hair. She was a little taller than Sylvia, but not
much.

“Sylvia’s been talking about you,” Mrs. Doran
said after Sylvia introduced us. “I wanted to put a face with the
name. She says you’re a good driver and you don’t drink.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. From the way she looked
at me, I was sure she could see into my mind.

“I work in a hospital. I see the results of
auto accidents like the one last night all the time. Kids who had
been healthy and happy an hour before, arrive in pieces. If you
wonder why your parents worry about your safety, that should tell
you.”

“Okay, Mom,” Sylvia said. “That’s enough of a
lecture for today. We’re pretty broken up about this.”

“I know, honey.” She kissed Sylvia. “You two
have good heads on your shoulders. I know you won’t forget the
lesson. Nice to meet you, Gary.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Doran.”

Mr. Doran came into the hallway and shook my
hand.

“Thank-you for standing by Sylvia,” he said.
“You have a warm place in our hearts just for doing that. Unlike
some people I could name.”

“How are you doing, sir?” I asked.

“Oh, they can’t keep me down. I’m still in
business. I have to be a little clandestine right now, but things
will get better. I have great faith in the people of the United
States to do the right thing in the long run.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“It’s what keeps me going.”

After we got in the car, Sylvia gave me a
quick kiss and said, “Thanks for putting up with my parents.”

“I like your parents.”

“They can be a little preachy at times. I
hope I get a chance to meet your parents.”

“I hope so, too.” Under favorable
circumstances.

***

The mood at the game was somber. The chief
topic of conversation was Dennis and Willie, with the game, itself,
taking a backseat. It overshadowed Sylvia’s ostracism, at least for
the moment. Everybody was talking to everybody else. Natalie even
came up to us and said how terrible it was.

I gathered from the gossip that the brothers
had been at a party—not at their house, but at the house of a
friend. The beer flowed freely, and they were on their way home
when the accident occurred.

I was recognizing more and more faces of the
Carter High students. I looked around the stands as we climbed to
our seats and thought that, whether I wanted to or not, after three
weeks here, I was becoming adjusted to Carter. Perhaps this
accident was bringing me closer to the others. Then I saw Kate with
a bunch of girls. She was wearing a red skirt, with a pink sweater
under her jacket that went with her hair. She knew how to dress
well on a limited clothing budget.

She looked in my direction, and our eyes met,
briefly. Then she turned away. I knew she had seen Sylvia by my
side. Perhaps Ed had told her about our lunch bunch, but seeing us
together would be more forceful to her than picturing us as part of
a larger group.

The public address announcer asked for a
minute of silence before the singing of the National Anthem. The
crowd quieted down immediately. The football players of both teams
bowed their heads and held their helmets in their arms. Even the
cheerleaders stood uncharacteristically quiet and immobile.

Barney came and sat on the other side of
Sylvia. She mentioned something to him about the accident.

“They called my dad to go to the scene of the
accident,” he said, soberly. Barney’s father was one of the few
doctors in the town of Carter. “He was the one who pronounced them
dead. They looked horrible. Blood and guts all over the place.”

“All right, Barney,” Sylvia said, covering
her mouth with her hand. “That’s enough of that. We already got the
lecture from my mother.”

“Sorry. But there’s a lesson to be learned
here.”