The Investigation Begins
I flipped through the pages again, still only finding blank pages after that last entry.
Kyle asked, “Is that the end?”
I nodded, “It looks like it.”
He stuttered, “But… but what happened? Where did Walter go? What about Ellis?”
I shrugged, “I don’t know. God Kyle, do you think he killed himself?”
Kyle looked at me in disbelief, “Jesus, I don’t know. Do you think his dad was the asshole that beat him up?”
“Do you think Ellis got beaten up too?” I asked.
Kyle said, “Damn it, this sucks. How are we going to find out what happened?”
I just sighed, “I don’t know bud, I don’t know.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I said, “Murph and Bug will be back in a couple of days; we should see what we can find out before they get back. We sure as hell aren’t going to tell them about the journal.”
“Or us.” Kyle added.
We stashed the journal away and headed home.
My mind was racing as I walked back to the house. What did Walter mean when he said he was going to end it all? God, did he really kill himself? How was I going to find out what really happened? I walked into the house just as mom was finishing getting supper ready. I helped her set the table without saying a word.
I just picked at my food until mom said, “Mike, what is wrong? You aren’t eating anything.”
I said, “Sorry mom, I’m just not very hungry.”
Dad said, “Eat your supper, Mike.”
“Yes sir,” I took a bite of my food and then asked, “Dad, is there a way to check with your boss to see if he has any records of his employees from the 20’s?”
He said, “Well I guess they do somewhere, but my boss wouldn’t know where they are. You should ask your friend Kyle, his dad is the head of the personnel department. He might know where the records are. Why?”
I said, “Well, I just heard a story about someone who worked at the mill in the 20’s and I was just curious.”
He lit up another cigarette and went back to reading his paper as he said, “Just finish your supper.”
I felt a little bit better, and I finished eating and helped mom do the dishes. I went to my room and got ready for bed. At least I had a place to start in solving the Walter and Ellis mystery. I couldn’t wait until morning to talk to Kyle to see if his dad would help us.
I woke up early and did the chores that my folks wanted me to do. I ran to the shed and grabbed the journal. I couldn’t wait for Kyle to show up, so I walked to his house. He was coming out the front door as I walked up the driveway. I ran up to greet him and asked if he thought his dad would help us find Walter’s dad.
He said, “That’s a good idea, I never thought of that.”
I said, “Well, it was kind of my dad’s idea.”
I explained the conversation I had with dad the night before as we walked the two miles to the mill. We walked into the office and Kyle asked the receptionist if he could go see his dad.
With a smile she said, “Sure Kyle, you know where his office is.”
Kyle’s dad smiled as we walked into his office.
He asked, “Well this is a surprise, what are you two up to today?”
We told Kyle’s dad what we were looking for.
He said, “All the old personnel records are in the basement, but we really aren’t supposed to show them to anyone outside the company.”
Kyle said, “We just want to look at the dates that he worked here dad. We won’t take any records out of the building.”
Kyle’s dad said, “I guess that won’t hurt, I’m not sure we will find anything anyway.”
He led us to the basement, turned on a light to a large room with rows of shelves filled with boxes. Each box had a number, a description of the contents, and a year in bold letters.
We walked to the row that he thought held the year we were looking for. We searched down the aisle until we got to 1922. We found the personnel records section and the box that contained all the “H” employees. We sat on the floor and started to pull all the files out, being careful to stack them in order. Finally, there it was.
Hankins, Elmer R.
Kyle’s dad gave me the file, “Was Walter’s dad named Elmer?”
I said, “I don’t know, he never said in the journal.” I opened the folder and started to scan the pages. I found the address, 608 Mulberry Road.
I said, “That’s the right address.”
The next page had a space for family members, it listed a wife, Lois A. Then one child, a son, Walter N.
I said, “This is it Kyle, this is his dad’s file.”
Kyle said, “Ok, so what does that solve. We already knew he worked here.”
I looked at a few more pages and found his employment dates. March 1914 start date and July 1922 termination date.
I looked to Kyle, “What does that mean, termination date?”
Kyle shrugged, “I don’t know. Dad what does it mean when it lists a termination date in the file?”
He said, “It just means that was the date that he left the job, whether he quit or was let go by the company.”
I asked, “So we don’t know if he quit or was fired by looking at his file?”
Kyle’s dad shook his head, “Sorry guys, that’s true. He could have been fired, quit and moved away, or he may have even died.”
Damn, I hadn’t even thought of that. Could Walter’s dad have died? We thanked him for all his help and helped him put the files back in the box. We left and walked back to the shed.
Planning Our Next Move
Once we were back in the shed, I pulled out a pad and pencil and started to write all the information we had up until this point. It wasn’t much, but it looked like Walter’s dad no longer worked at the mill after the date of Walter’s last entry. We quickly read through some of the entries again, just to see if there was anything we missed. Searching for any clue that would help us track down Walter. Dang, I hope he was still alive and just left town. Now I just had to figure out how to track him down.
I sighed after we finished rereading parts of the journal. I asked Kyle, “What do you think?”
He shrugged, “Where else can we look for clues?”
I shook my head, “I have no idea.” I thought for a few minutes and said, “What if we check at the library?”
Kyle said, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Do you think they will have anything?”
I said, “I know they have a book about the history of Westburg. They printed it a few years ago for the town’s centennial.”
Kyle chuckled, “I doubt there is anything in that book about an abusive drunk.”
I nodded, “You’re probably right, but we have to start somewhere.”
We reread a couple more entries and sat back in our chairs, still thinking.
Kyle broke the silence, “So have you ever tasted cum?”
We had just read the entry where Walter and Ellis sucked each other and swallowed their cum. I shrugged, “I guess so, I mean I had some on my hand one time and I kind of licked it, just to see what it tasted like.”
Kyle asked, “What did it taste like?”
I said, “Kind of like Walter described, a little salty and maybe a bit sweet. It’s sort of hard to describe.”
He nodded, “Have you ever had anyone suck you?”
I chuckled, “No, you are the only other person to ever touch me. Have you had your dick sucked?”
He shook his head, “No, you are the only one I have ever done anything with too.”
We sat in silence for a few moments and at the same time asked each other, “Do you want to try?”
We chuckled and stood to drop our shorts. Kyle sat back down when I said, “I’ll suck you first.”
He spread his legs as he leaned back, his cock was already rock hard. I took a deep breath as I went to my knees in front of him. I have to admit, my dick was just as hard. I took a minute to admire Kyle’s erection; I noticed a drop of clear liquid formed at slit of his member. I thought back to the journal and remembered Walter saying he licked that from Ellis. I stuck my tongue out and leaned in, savoring the taste of the first fluid I had ever licked from another guy.
Klye swallowed hard as he stared down at me, he shuddered as my tongue touched him for the first time. I swallowed Kyle’s precum and opened my mouth, closing it around a cock for the first time in my life, not sure what to expect. I gave it a little suck, and my instincts kicked in. I took Kyle as deep as I could before gagging and started to bob up and down. Once again, Kyle shuddered as I picked up the pace. His breathing increased and he started to moan; his hands were now on the back of my head.
I was really enjoying sucking my first cock, I wasn’t sure that I would. The taste, the smell, the feel of Kyle in my mouth was intoxicating. Any doubts that I was gay suddenly vanished, I knew I would want to do this again. I hoped Kyle was enjoying it as much as I was.
That question was soon answered when he gasped and said, “Oh shit. I’m going to…”
I clamped my lips tight around his pole as he started to shoot his cum down my throat. His grip on my head tightened as the convulsions continued until his nuts were empty. Kyle fell back into his chair and his hands released my head as I swallowed the last of his love juices. I looked up at him as he was trying to catch his breath.
He panted, “That was incredible.”
I asked, “Did I do ok?”
He nodded, “Oh yeah, you were amazing.”
Once he was breathing normally again, he smiled and said, “Ok, now it’s your turn.”
He stood up and turned me to take his place in the chair. The thought of what was coming, caused another drop of precum to leak out of my rock-hard pole. I braced myself as Kyle leaned in, just as I had done, he licked the tip of my dick first to taste my precum and then wrapped his lips around my cock. I had to hang on to the arm rest so I wouldn’t jump out of the chair. Kyle was right, this was incredible. My hand would never satisfy me again.
It didn’t take long for my juices to start to flow. I announced I was close as Kyle took me as deep as he could. I held his head as I erupted, sending my seed flying. Kyle caught every drop. Once my spasms stopped, he gave my dick another lick, wiped my cum from his chin and smiled at me. He stood and leaned in so we could share a cum flavored kiss.
He broke our kiss and asked, “how was it?”
I grinned, “I want us to do that again. A lot. Anytime you want to.”
Kyle chuckled, “Yeah, me too.”
We kissed for a bit and got dressed. We needed to get home; our dads would be home soon. We made plans to meet again tomorrow to go to the library.
Next Stop: The Library and the Newspaper
After I had finished my morning chores, I grabbed the notepad that I had started with our notes in it. Just in case we found any more clues to add. I walked to Kyle’s house, and we headed to the library and found the book about the history of Westburg. For the next two hours we poured over every page of the book. Kyle was right, there wasn’t anything about Walter or his family. It was obvious that Franklin Thornhill’s family contributed a lot to the writing of the book.
There were lots of former mayors, other politicians and business owners mentioned, but there was very little written about the regular working families. There was a section with pictures of a lot of the houses around town, including pictures of the houses on Mulberry Road. Kyle and I both found pictures of our houses. In one of them, we saw a picture of Water’s house, it even had the shed in the background.
We asked Mrs. White if there were any other books about Westburg, and after a quick search, we learned there were not. We thanked her and left to head back to the shed. On our way home, we passed the drug store and decided to get a Coke. As we walked out of the drug store, there was sign across the street that caught my eye. “The Westburg Reporter”
I said, “Look, the newspaper.”
Kyle looked at me, “Yeah, so?”
I said, “They probably keep old issues of the paper. Let’s go see if Mr. Johnson will let us look at the papers from 1922.”
We ran across the street; The Reporter was a typical small town weekly newspaper. Russell Johnson was the owner, editor, writer, and sole employee. The paper covered only things going on in Westburg, if you wanted state or national news you would have to find a different paper. The Reporter mostly had the current high school sport season’s highlights, plus local weddings, births, and deaths. The bell jingled as we walked in the door.
Mr. Johnson looked up from his typewriter, “Hi boys, what can I do for you?”
I smiled back, “Hey Mr. Johnson, do you keep old copies of all the papers you print?”
He nodded, “Sure Mike, I have all the ones printed since I took over in ’59 on those shelves over there. The ones from the previous owner are bound in books in the back room. What are you guys looking for?”
I said, “It might be kind of a long shot, but we are looking for papers from July 1922. We are trying to see if there were any articles about a guy we heard about.”
He smiled, “That’s easy, I have the book with 1922 right here. I was working on this week’s “looking back” section. I reprint the bigger stories from 10, 20, 30, 40 and 50 years ago. I am finished with 50 years, so help yourself. You can look at it over at the other desk.”
Kyle said, “Thanks Mr. Johnson.”
The whole year was bound in one large volume, starting with week one. We turned to the middle of the book and found the week that included July 8, 1922. Each issue was 8 pages, and we started to scan the stories. There were a couple weddings, one birth and four funeral notices. None included Elmer, Walter or Ellis or any others that may have been related. There were no other stories that fit anything in Walter’s journal. We looked at the weeks after and before the current week. There just was nothing that we could find that would answer any of our questions.
We thanked Mr. Johnson again and headed back to my house. Mom made Kyle and me a sandwich. Kyle left to go home, and we made plans to meet at the pond the next day.
Maybe the Neighbors Can Help
After Kyle left, mom was putting frosting on a cake that she had just made. She put the cover on the cake plate and handed it me.
She said, “Mike, will you take this cake down to Clara Emerson’s house? Her husband just got of the hospital and I’m sure she hasn’t had time to bake anything. I just know he will be getting visitors, and she should have something to serve her guests.”
I smiled, “Sure mom.”
I headed down the road, thinking about Walter and Ellis and where to look next for clues. The Emerson’s were in their 60’s and as I walked up on the porch, it dawned on me that they might know something about Walter. I knew they had always lived in Westburg, so it was worth asking.
Mrs. Emerson smiled as she answered the door, “Hi Mike, what have you got there?”
I returned her smile, “Hi Mrs. Emerson. Mom made a cake for Mr. Emerson. I hope he is feeling better.”
She nodded, “Yes he is, thank you. Please come in. You can set the cake on the counter. I just made a pitcher of lemonade. Will you have a glass?”
I smiled, “Yes, thank you.” She poured a glass of lemonade and handed it to me. I asked, “Do you mind if I ask you and Mr. Emerson a few questions?”
She said, “Of course not. Harry is in the living room; you can drink your lemonade in there.”
Mr. Emerson turned as we walked into the living room and said, “Well, hi Mike. How are you?”
I said, “I’m well, I hope you are feeling better.”
He grinned, “Much better, thanks. I’ll be up and chasing this old girl around the house in no time.”
Mrs. Emerson scoffed, “Behave Harry. Mike brought us a cake, and he wants to ask us a few questions.”
He said, “Questions? About what?”
I asked, “I was wondering how long you have lived on Mulberry Road?”
He smiled, “I was born right here in this house. My folks built this house in 1905; I was born in 1910.”
I said, “So you were 12 in 1922. Did you know the Hankins family that lived just down the road?”
He thought a moment, “Oh, yeah. I do remember them. I think Mrs. Hankins died around that time.” He shuddered, “I know the old man was a bastard.”
Mrs. Emerson said, “Harry!!! Watch your language.”
He said, “Well Clara, he was just mean.”
I chuckled as I asked, “Did you know Walter, their son?”
He nodded, “Yeah, he was a couple of years older than me. We weren’t really friends, but I saw him around. I always felt a little sorry for him, he always seemed to have a black eye. My folks told me that his old man would beat him. See Clara, I told you was a bastard.”
She shook her head as I again chuckled. I asked, “Do you remember when their house burned down?”
He rubbed his chin, “Yeah, I guess that would be around that same time too. We could see the smoke from here, but my folks wouldn’t let me go to get a closer look.”
I asked, “Do you remember seeing Walter after the fire?”
He shook his head, “No, I don’t think I do. My dad said he thought Walter and his father were killed in that fire.”
I nodded, “I think the old man was killed in the fire, but I’m not sure if Walter was.”
Mr. Emerson asked, “What do you think happened to him, Mike? No one saw him after that.”
I sighed, “I know, I hope he just ran away.”
Mrs. Emerson asked, “Why are you asking about all of this, Mike?”
I shrugged, “I found an old journal that I think was written by Walter and it ended kind of abruptly. I am trying to find out where he went after he left here, if he did leave town.”
Mr. Emerson said, “I can’t say for sure he died in the fire or left town. I know that when the old man was drunk he sometimes would leave his cigarette burning when he passed out. So, the whole town assumed that was what caused the fire.”
I asked, “What about the Jackson family. Did you know them?”
He shook his head, “No, don’t remember them?”
I said, “They were a black family that moved here to work at the mill.”
Mr. Emerson nodded, “Oh, there were a bunch of those families that move to town to work at the mill. Old Man Thornhill bought those old houses on Wheeler Creek Road for them to move into. I’m sorry to say that my old man was a bit prejudice, he told me to never go on that road or talk to any of those kids. I would see them walking down the road going to the pond, but I never talked to them or knew any of their names.”
I nodded, “I understand Mr. Emerson. That is pretty much what I’m finding out from everyone.”
Mr. Emerson thought for a minute as I finished my lemonade. He said, “One thing has always bothered me about what happened after that fire.”
He had my interest piqued, “What was that Mr. Emerson?”
He sighed, “The old man drove an old Model T truck. I remember it because it was missing a fender on the front driver’s side. I always wondered why he didn’t fix it. Anyway, I never saw that truck after the day of the fire. I guess someone took it when they heard the old man died in the fire.”
I nodded, “Well, thank you for answering my questions. I need to get going, my dad will be home for supper soon.”
Mrs. Emerson took my empty and glass and said, “Please tell your mom thanks for the cake and I’ll bring the plate back after we’ve eaten it.”
I smiled, “I will tell her, and thank you for the lemonade.”
I walked back home thinking about our conversation. Mr. Emerson had confirmed most of what I already knew. The missing truck was a new piece of information though. I now had hope that Walter used the truck to make his getaway. I’ll tell Kyle about it and write it in my notebook as soon as I get home.
It didn’t solve the mystery, but it felt like I was gaining more information. I guess I will have to keep looking.
To be Continued…
