What she did not know at that time and would not know until it was too late was that the boys had discovered they weren’t necessarily called in for work that Friday. Couple days before, Miss Mailley had strangely noticed something missing, and only noticed it after a customer had driven over thirty miles with his son in search of a prized toy she was sure she had: the brand-new 1891 Maerklin model train set, only one year in the making, powered by steam and the first model to run on tinplates. Puzzled after a thorough search, she realized she had been robbed. She didn’t think to question her sons, their friends, or even Darlene for any strange faces that might have come into the shop and made their way out with a conspicuous package stuffed under their arms. Her first thought had been to the New Africa boys, though she couldn’t imagine how they could have gotten into the special locked glass cabinet where she kept the high-ticket items. After all, they were unintelligent, colored, poor, ugly, regularly unemployed, really only good for lifting her boxes, certainly not to be totally trusted. She kept her suspicions quiet until the thought wouldn’t leave her mind and she told her husband, who spread the news in less hours than it took her to think to tell him. Suddenly, their neighbors complained of missing silver, remembering one of the New Africa boys had delivered milk last week. An antique urn was out of sight at another home, although the lady of the house couldn’t remember seeing any Black boys around lately. One family’s dog had run off, at least that’s what the family had thought until this new explanation presented itself.

By the time a town meeting was held Thursday at the Baptist church where the Mailleys attended every Sunday, all the town Whites had scoured their homes in search of things they suddenly remembered they couldn’t find: fancy pipes, brass watches, special china, gold cuff links, inherited cameos, rare coins, handguns, silk ties, and of course hundreds of dollars. By Friday morning, Miss Mailley had reluctantly come to a conclusion as to how they could have gotten into her special cabinet. Or better yet, who could have gone in for them and just passed the box along. Later, after Darlene had returned to work and dried her eyes, blaming their redness on dust energized by an especially hot, dry day, Miss Mailley cornered her.

“I seen you make friendly with them boys come by here to help me,” she said.

“Yes ma’am, sometimes, but just on my break,” Darlene replied, sorting buttons by color on the counter and afraid to look her boss in the eyes.

“How friendly are you?” Miss Mailley wanted to know, coldly.