The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery

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