Free The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery by Alan Cook Page A

juggle more exotic items. Like knives. I would run away and join a circus.
    But right now I would rather be backstage with Sylvia and Natalie. We hadn’t met this morning, the first time in four mornings that some combination of us hadn’t gotten together. As far as I knew, Dr. Graves wasn’t aware that I had been meeting with them. Even if he should happen to find out, I could justify my behavior. After all, I was spying on Sylvia, at his request. And a spy had to be granted a certain amount of leeway concerning school rules. This made me feel a little better while I rehearsed what I was going to say.
    Dr. Graves finally glanced up and stopped tapping his pencil. Looking at me over his glasses, he said, “Good morning, Gary. How are you adapting to life here at Carter?”
    “Fine, sir. It’s smaller than Atherton and a little easier to get around.” That was innocuous enough.
    “Yes. Well, what can I do for you?”
    “I want to tell you what I’ve found out about Sylvia and her father.”
    Dr. Graves quickly got up from his chair, walked around the desk, and closed the door. He had a long, athletic stride and was back in his seat in about eight seconds. He took off his glasses and gave me his full attention.
    This intimidated me because it implied that what I was about to say had a lot more importance than what I wished to give it. I swallowed and started talking. “I don’t think Mr. Doran is wholeheartedly behind the Korean War.”
    “The Korean War is over.”
    “I think he believes that it was a bad idea for us to send troops to Korea.”
    This wasn’t based on anything Sylvia had told me. I had been reading the editorials in the Buffalo Express. One of them had been about the Korean War. Although the editorials were unsigned, Sylvia had said that Mr. Doran, as chief editorial writer, assigned the editorials to be written. From that I inferred that they reflected his point of view. Of course, Dr. Graves also had access to the Buffalo Express and could be reading the editorials. This might be old news to him. Because the information was common knowledge, I could rationalize passing it along. It wasn’t as if I had actually dug up any new dirt.
    “That sounds like a commie point of view,” Dr. Graves said. “North Korea is supported by China, the biggest communist country there is. Do you have anything more specific than that?”
    “He thinks that we can’t be the policemen of the world. We shouldn’t get militarily involved in any foreign countries unless our freedom is at stake.” I was paraphrasing and generalizing, but I thought I had the gist of it correct. And I still wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t common knowledge.
    “Isolationist. That kind of thinking plays into the hands of the Communists who want to take over the world. Good job, Blanchard. What about Sylvia?”
    “Uh, I’m not sure she shares the same opinion. Her boyfriend enlisted in the Army and apparently wants to go to Korea.”
    “Erskine. Yeah, I know him well. He was on the swimming team. I’d sometimes go to swimming classes just to watch that boy swim. He’s got beautiful form. Graceful as a porpoise. What have you learned about what Sylvia is up to at school? A while back she was trying to get some teachers fired.”
    I stared at Dr. Graves. This had nothing to do with Mr. Doran or the communist conspiracy. And I was supposed to be helping Sylvia gather information on Mr. Plover, although I hadn’t had time to start. I decided to play dumb.
    “She hasn’t said anything about anything like that. Maybe…she’s stopped doing that.” When the truth came out, I wanted to be completely dissociated with it.
    “I don’t believe it. She’s always up to something. Trying to undermine my authority. Well, keep up the good work, Blanchard. Remember: eyes and ears open. Get along to your homeroom now.”
    He dismissed me with a wave of his hand.
    ***
    On Saturday afternoon, Carter played Atherton in football. At Carter.