The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery

party line on how he died. Nobody saw it happen. He was alone in the auditorium. He fell off the balcony. His head hit the back of one of the seats. He broke his neck and the seat.” She recited the facts in a singsong voice, as if she didn’t necessarily believe them.
    “Why would he be alone in the auditorium?”
    Sylvia shrugged. “You were alone in the auditorium a little while ago.”
    “I was waiting for you.”
    “Maybe Ralph was waiting for somebody,” Natalie said.
    “I guess that’s possible. But who? A girlfriend?” Ed had mentioned a girl named Ruthie.
    “He was going steady with Ruth, I believe,” Sylvia said. She looked at Natalie.
    Natalie hesitated and then said, “Ruth Allen. Ruth is a junior now. She’s on my cheerleading squad. Did you go to Ralph’s funeral? She was there. A lot of the members of our class were there.” She shuddered. “That was the first funeral I ever went to.”
    “I was sick,” I said. “I had the measles. I had spots all over me. I wanted to go, but I wasn’t allowed to even get out of bed.”
    “There were a lot of people at the funeral,” Sylvia said. “Ralph was very popular. He played football and basketball, and he liked to party.”
    “I wonder if anybody talked to Ruth,” I said.
    “There was a police investigation,” Sylvia said. “They probably talked to her. They talked to all of us who knew him.”
    “Come out on the stage,” I said. “I want to look at the balcony.”
    When we were on the stage, I pointed into the shadows toward it. “The balcony isn’t all that high. Do you think somebody falling off it would get killed?”
    “If he landed on his head,” Natalie said. “But he looked okay. I mean, the casket was open. He didn’t have any visible injuries. He just looked like he was asleep.” She shuddered.
    “I’d like to talk to Ruth,” I said.
    “I can introduce you,” Natalie said.
    “No you can’t,” Sylvia said. “Remember that you two haven’t met.”
    I had an idea. I said, “Why don’t I show up at cheerleader practice this afternoon, pretending that I’m writing a story for the Carter Press? That will kill two birds with one stone. I can introduce myself to you, Natalie, and then we will have officially met. It’s too difficult to remember to ignore you, anyway. Then you can introduce me to Ruth.”
    “I doubt if Ruth will tell you if she had an assignation with Ralph in the auditorium,” Sylvia said.
    “Even if she just tells me what she told the police, I’ll be happy.”
    “Since you’re a reporter, why don’t you really write a story about the cheerleaders for the Press?” Natalie asked. “I’d like to get some publicity for the squad. The football players get all the glory.”
    “I can’t do that,” I said, quickly. I’d better explain. “Er, I’m concentrating on my studies this year. I don’t plan to do any actual writing. Just pretend.” It sounded lame.
    “How many people know that you’re Ralph’s cousin?” Sylvia asked.
    “You two and Dr. Graves. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it quiet for the time being.” And Ed Drucquer. But I didn’t mention him.
    “Any particular reason?”
    “I’m trying to keep a low profile, remember?” And I had a hunch I’d find out more about Ralph’s death if people didn’t know I was related to him.
    Then I remembered something else. Dr. Graves had stopped me in the hall yesterday and asked me how I was doing. Then he had asked me whether there was anything I wanted to tell him. The way he said it made me realize that I’d better come up with something. Fast.
    I said, lightly, “It’s show and tell time. I’ve told you about me. But I don’t know anything about you two. Tell me about your, ah, families.”
    “Not much to tell,” Natalie said. “I have two parents and an older sister who’s in college.”
    “What does your father do?”
    “He owns an Oldsmobile dealership.”
    “I have one older brother,” Sylvia said. “And the usual number of parents. My father is chief editorial writer for the Buffalo Express. My mother is a nurse.”
    “So your dad writes the editorials.”
    “He writes some and assigns others to members of his staff.”
    My aunt and uncle had the Buffalo Express delivered. I would have to start reading the editorials.
    “What about your family?” Sylvia asked.
    “I have two younger brothers. My father works for the mayor of Buffalo, but I’m not exactly sure what he does. Something to