The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery

stuck searching for the necklace. You would be amazed how much they all love you, Gary. I’ve got your whole family right where I want them. Only the Drucquers will be left to inherit the farm.”
    Ed continued hammering. The volume of smoke was increasing rapidly. Ed had obviously started the fire in a number of places, and the dry hay was catching fast. I could tell from the yelling that we weren’t going to be able to put it out.
    There was one thing Ed didn’t know. “Ed, Kate is up here,” I yelled over the hammering and the shouting. “Kate is up here,” I called again when the hammering stopped.
    “Nice, try, Gary. But pulling my leg won’t work.”
    “Kate,” I yelled. She had tried to get to the fire, but had been driven back by what was now thick smoke. “Come here.” I motioned frantically to her. “Tell Ed you’re here.”
    Kate ran over to the trapdoor, heard the hammering, and called, “Eddie?” as if she didn’t believe what was happening. “What are you doing?”
    “Katie? Katie? You’re not supposed to be here.”
    Kate clawed frantically and ineffectually at the door. “Eddie, the barn is on fire. We’re all going to die.”
    “I can’t pull the nails out,” Ed called. Now the panic was in his voice. “I put them in too tight.”
    “Release the bolt,” I said.
    I heard some more hammering and the bolt popped up. But when I pulled up on it, the door didn’t move. Ed had nailed the wooden crosspieces of the door to the boards surrounding it. I pulled harder and lost my grip on the bolt. This was as bad as trying to open the door at the bomb shelter by pulling on the hasp.
    Archie and Tom stumbled out of the space between the wall and the haystack, coughing, driven out by the smoke. The men followed them. I heard screaming and confusion. We didn’t have much time.
    “Ed, knock the slats out of the door with the hammer,” I called.
    The wooden slats were nailed in from above, and he should be able to knock the nails out. I heard pounding, and the door jumped a little. The nails were in tight, and it would take forceful blows. More pounding, then a yelled curse from Ed and a muffled plop that sounded like something hitting the concrete floor down below. Then silence.
    “Ed,” I called. I repeatedly called his name, but there was no answer.
    “What’s the matter with the door?” Uncle Jeff asked.
    He grabbed the bolt and tried to pull the door up, but he couldn’t get a good enough grip. The door didn’t move.
    “Ed nailed it shut,” I said. “He wants us to die. He knows Kate’s here, and he was trying to knock the slats out, but I think he fell off the ladder.”
    Uncle Jeff shouted Ed’s name several times. Still no answer.
    “He must have hit his head,” Uncle Jeff said.
    The smoke was now swirling around us. It would get us before the fire would. The women and my brothers and Kate were huddled together, coughing and crying. I thought of Uncle Jeff’s words about looking for the weakest link. The trapdoor was no longer the weakest link.
    What other possibilities were there? There was the door at one end of the barn. It opened at the top of the barn to let the conveyor belt bring hay into the loft. It was on the wall behind the haystack. The door was also well above the ground and below it was a hard gravel driveway. But the worst problem was that the smoke was too thick to allow us to climb the haystack and the whole pile of hay would burst into flames at any moment.

    CHAPTER 31
    There was one other possibility. That was the window above the hay bales at the other end of the barn. We could get to the window, but how could we get down from there? It must be at least twenty-five feet to the ground. But maybe it was better to jump than face certain death from smoke and fire.
    I looked up at the window and saw the rope hanging from the rafters near it. That had to be the answer.
    “We’ll go through the window and down the rope,” I said to Uncle Jeff and my dad, who were both trying to lift the trapdoor, in vain.
    “Is there enough rope to reach the ground?” my dad asked.
    “I don’t know but it’s our only chance. Bring everybody up on the bales.”
    Without waiting for a reply, I ran to the bales and climbed them as fast as I could. The smoke wasn’t heavy here yet, although it was starting to drift over from the haystack to this end of the barn. The window was a little above the top of the bales, but the wooden slats nailed to the side of the