The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery

wearing their good dresses, white gloves, and little white caps. Their hair was pulled up in buns. They also wore glasses.
    I said, “Thank-you for stopping.”
    The passenger turned around to look at me and asked, compassionately, “Were you in a fight?”
    “It’s a long story,” I said. “I’m trying to get to my aunt’s farm on Sugar Road.”
    “We’re going to the Mennonite Church.”
    That confirmed what I was thinking. The caps had given them away. Aunt Dorothy had told me that two large Mennonite families lived in Carter and the children went to Carter High. I had seen a couple of them in the halls. I didn’t recognize these girls. But the church was very close to the Drucquers’ house.
    “Great. My cousin lives near there. I can get a ride from his house.”
    I asked them what school they went to. They said Braden, which was in a town south of Carter. But they often went to the Mennonite Church in Carter and spent the afternoon with their relatives. At last it looked as if I were going to make it to the farm.
    I asked them what time it was. They weren’t wearing watches, but the girl in the passenger seat said she thought it was about quarter to twelve. I was glad we were approaching the Drucquers’ house. Maybe Ed would still be there. Maybe this was all a false alarm. But being locked in the bomb shelter was real, even if it seemed like a bad dream. No, he definitely was planning something.
    They said they would take me right to my cousin’s house. This would save me a few minutes and every minute counted, so I didn’t try to talk them out of it. They stopped in front of the Drucquers’ house, and the girl on the passenger side got out of the car again. I pushed the seatback forward and exited painfully, trying not to show how much I hurt. Then I thanked both of them.
    As the girl got back into the car, I turned and looked for my car. It was not in evidence. The door to the single garage was closed. That’s where the Drucquers kept their old clunker. I limped up to the house, trying to think of what to say. I couldn’t come up with anything brilliant. The place looked deserted. Perhaps they were all at church.
    I remembered that the doorbell didn’t work and knocked on the door. There was no response for thirty seconds. I knocked again, wondering how easy it would be to break into the house and use the phone. Fairly easy, I would imagine. Then I heard footsteps inside, and Kate opened the door. She was dressed in blue jeans and the old sweater with a tear in it that I had seen her wear before.
    “What happened to you?” were the first words out of her mouth as she stared at me in wide-eyed surprise?
    “Where’s Ed?” I asked.
    “He’s not here.”
    “Where is he?”
    “Gary, what’s the matter with you?”
    “Do you know where he is?”
    “No, he drove off in your car a while ago. I think he said he was going to return it to you. What’s going on?”
    My brusque manner was scaring her. I toned my voice down a notch or two and said, “May I use your phone? I need to call Aunt Dorothy.”
    Kate opened the door wider and let me in. She led me to the telephone sitting on a small stand in the combination dining room and kitchen. I was too absorbed in making sure my relatives were all right to give any word of explanation to her. I dialed the number and listened to the phone ring. And ring. I hung up. There was no sense calling my parents. They would be at the farm by now. Everybody must be outside. I hoped.
    “I’ve got to get to the farm,” I said to Kate. “Where are your parents?”
    “They’re at church. I didn’t want to go, so I told them I had homework. What…”
    “Did they drive their car?”
    “No, our neighbors picked them up.”
    “Can I borrow their car? Kate, this is important.”
    “Where are you going to take it?”
    “To the farm.”
    “I’m going with you.”
    “No.” Whatever happened, it was no place for her.
    “If you want to use the car, you have to take me.”
    No time to argue. “All right. Get the keys. Hurry.”

    CHAPTER 30
    “Now tell me what’s going on,” Kate said as I sped away from the house. “And try not to wreck the car. You’re driving like a maniac.”
    “Ed locked me in a bomb shelter last night,” I said, skidding around a turn and downshifting into second gear. “He’s up to something, but I’m not sure what.”
    “He said you lent him your car.”
    “That was a lie.”
    “So what’s he doing? Is it