The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery

located, so we entered them almost immediately. The ground was soft from the rain and littered with fallen branches. Some had been blown down by the wind that had accompanied the rain.
    When Kate stumbled over a branch, I grabbed her hand. She righted herself but didn’t let go, and so we walked to the railroad tracks hand in hand. When we got to the tracks, the train was just coming into view down the line.
    Kate was still holding my hand. She turned toward me and said, “Gary, why don’t you like me?”
    I should have seen this coming, but I was unprepared. I said, “I do like you,” although it didn’t sound convincing.
    “You couldn’t wait to get out of the fort and away from me.”
    “That’s because…because you’re my cousin.”
    “Eddie says we’re fourth cousins. Big deal.”
    She had me there. “Well, you’re young yet.”
    “I’m very mature for my age.”
    I couldn’t dispute that, either. I was struggling for something more to say when she said, “I’m not asking that we go steady or anything like that. I just want you to like me a little.”
    “All right, I like you a little,” I said. “About this much.” I held up my thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart.
    She shoved me, feigning irritation, and said, “Then give me a little cousinly kiss.”
    I bent down, intending to give her a peck on the cheek, but her idea of a cousinly kiss was more than a peck and involved lips. I broke away after a few seconds, saying, “That’s about all the cousinly kisses I can take for one day.”
    “Then write me a limerick. You wrote one about Ed.”
    The train sounded its horn as it approached, as if warning us to be discreet. We waved to the engineer as it rolled slowly by. When the noise subsided and we could talk again, I said:
    “ There is a young lady name Kate,
    Who all the boys wish they could date.
    She’s funny and charming,
    Completely disarming;
    I’m sure she will find a good mate.”
    “Okay, I get the picture,” Kate said. “Come on, let’s go back to the house.”
    She turned and walked away from me.
    ***
    Dinners with my aunt and uncle were improving. They were talking more and smiling more. Although I certainly wasn’t a replacement for Ralph, I think they were glad to have me staying with them.
    That night we ate roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and squash, with a salad of lettuce and tomato, a common meal in farm country. I asked them what kind of job Mr. Drucquer had at the gypsum plant.
    “There’s a mine, but he doesn’t work in it. He works on the surface in the factory and warehouse,” Uncle Jeff said. “That’s where the gypsum is made into wallboard used in construction.”
    “What does he do?”
    “He told me he’s had a number of jobs. He’s a member of the union and the workers can bid on jobs as they become available. Anything from the assembly line where the wallboard is made, to stacking the wallboard on skids, to driving lift trucks that are used to carry the full skids into the warehouse, to loading trucks and freight cars.”
    “Those jobs don’t sound like they require a lot of training.”
    “They’re basic laboring jobs. And you’re right. Most people can learn to drive a lift truck in a day.”
    “So how much does it pay?”
    “About two dollars an hour. Time and a half for overtime. Lots of overtime is available during the summer when business is good, but they often cut back to three days a week in the winter when not much building is going on in this part of the country. Why do you ask?”
    “I saw the house where they live, today.”
    “Yes, that’s unfortunate. Hopefully, that’s temporary.” Uncle Jeff smiled a wry smile. “Although it’s been temporary for two years.”
    “John didn’t finish the English equivalent of high school,” Aunt Dorothy said. “He had to go to work because his father got sick. But he’s studying accounting and should be able to get a better job one of these days.”
    I hoped that was true, for the sake of the kids. I decided to try another subject. But I had to approach it carefully.
    “Aunt Dorothy, what do you think of the stories about the diamond necklace?”
    “Old wives’ tales. I don’t believe there was a necklace. If there had been, it would have surfaced long ago. And probably been sold, since my ancestors often didn’t have two coins to jingle in their pockets.”
    That didn’t leave much room for discussion. I decided it was time for a second helping of