Suzy wiped her eyes and smiled. “I don’t want you—any of you—to think I haven’t been grateful for all you’ve done for me, but I’m putting you all in a dangerous situation. It will be only a matter of time before the neighbors across the street find out I’m here. Already I understand there’s a woman in town circulating a campaign of vicious rumors about me. I honestly don’t know what those people might do.”
“I think most people here would take anything the Kilgores say with a grain of salt,” Charlie said.
“And as for that other woman you spoke of, I haven’t noticed a large enrollment in the Select Society of Emmaline,” Miss Dimple said.
Annie giggled. “I doubt if she even serves refreshments.”
“They probably earn badges, though.” Charlie spoke with a straight face.
That brought a laugh, even from Suzy. “I know you mean well, but I think it’s time I turned myself in. Your sheriff seems fair, and they must realize they don’t have any evidence against me.”
The others exchanged silent glances sending a clear warning. “I don’t think you want to take that chance,” Miss Dimple said. “Not yet, at least. I want you to promise me you’ll give this a little more time. I think we’re closer than you might suspect to getting to the bottom of this.”
Virginia arrived soon after that and the others left for home and their midday meal. During the holidays Charlie didn’t eat at Phoebe Chadwick’s and she missed the good food as well as the company. Her mother usually worked three days a week at the munitions plant in nearby Milledgeville, but due to a temporary lull in the manufacturing process, Josephine Carr had spent that morning rolling bandages for the Red Cross instead.
“I hope Delia remembers to warm up that leftover vegetable soup,” Charlie said as the three paused in front of Phoebe’s. “I’m starved and I know Mama will be hungry when she gets home.”
Annie smiled. Everybody knew Charlie’s mother disliked cooking and until Delia had finally started pitching in, it had been up to Charlie to take care of most of the meal preparation. “I almost forgot we have to pop and string that popcorn,” she said, “and with the mood Odessa’s in, I sure don’t want to get in her way.”
“Why not pop it at our house?” Charlie offered. “Aunt Lou gave us an electric popper a couple of years ago. All you have to do is turn the handle.”
“I’ll lend them a hand polishing the silver,” Miss Dimple said. “Perhaps that will smooth things a little. I know how Phoebe dreads it, and Odessa doesn’t have time, but I find it oddly restful.”
And so soon after lunchtime, Annie showed up at the Carrs’ house, popcorn in hand. Jo Carr greeted her and went back to writing the social news for the following week’s issue of the Elderberry Eagle. She found Charlie washing dishes while her sister put little Tommy down for his nap upstairs. To save precious coal, the family had put their tree in the sitting room this year instead of heating the larger living room, and Annie thought it looked festive in the corner by the window while across the room a low fire burned cheerfully in the grate.
Charlie rummaged in the pantry until she found the popper and it took only minutes to pop enough to string garlands for several trees. Sitting at the kitchen table, the two munched as the snowy ropes grew longer and longer.
“I wonder…” Charlie began as she slid the fragrant corn along her thread.
“Wonder what?”
“I wonder what Miss Dimple knows that we don’t,” Charlie said. “She seems to think it won’t be long before we know who killed Mae Martha Hawthorne. I hate to admit it, but I thought it might’ve been Bill—poor thing!”
“You’re right. He didn’t seem very likeable, but it’s beginning to look like this all hinges on those missing paintings—”
“And Mae Martha’s decision to leave her money for a scholarship fund,” Charlie added. “Isaac said several of her paintings went missing earlier and that was why he took the others to a dealer for safekeeping right after she died.” She paused. “So how do we know he’s telling the truth?”
“Both the nephews seemed genuinely fond of her,” Annie admitted. “Even Bill Pitts, from what I’ve been told.”
Charlie looked up. “Suzy thinks he knew something—or saw something. But what?”
“Do you think he might’ve found out where the paintings are being stored?”
“Hidden, you mean.” Charlie tied off her popcorn chain and eased it into a paper bag. “He was killed on Isaac Ingram’s property. I suppose they could be in an outbuilding somewhere.”
“And don’t forget about the Curtises,” Annie reminded her. “Their land backs right up to Isaac’s. Maybe they know more than they’re telling about those eight paintings Isaac claims are missing … but they seem so nice, don’t they? Of course, you never know.”
“What about Rebecca, the milk and egg lady?” Charlie asked. “Maybe we should try and talk to her.”
“Maybe. Let’s wait and see what Miss Dimple says.
“Ouch!” Annie stuck her finger and popped her thumb in her mouth. “And don’t forget,” she said. “Esau has outbuildings, too.”
* * *
In the hallway on the other side of the closed kitchen door, Jo Carr quietly picked up the telephone receiver. “Florence,” she whispered. “Ring Lou for me, would you, please? If she doesn’t answer, just keep on ringing. I need to talk with her right away.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“They’re up to something, Louise. I just know it!” Josephine Carr sat in her sister’s sunny yellow kitchen while Lou peeled and sliced sweet potatoes for supper. She didn’t risk talking about what she suspected over the phone, as everyone knew Florence McCrary at the telephone company listened in on any conversation she found interesting.
“Who’s up to something?” Lou didn’t look up.
“My daughter and your niece. Charlie, that’s who! Annie Gardner, too, and frankly, I’m getting curious.”
“Really? About what?” Lou’s smile lit up her whole face. There was nothing she liked better than a hearty taste of adventure.
Jo told her what she had overheard in the hallway. “They’ve been finding some excuse to go out there where that artist woman lived ever since the night Miss Dimple found little Peggy Ashcroft. And Miss Dimple’s in on it, too!”
“Now, really, Josephine!” Louise paused, knife in hand, with a half-peeled potato. “What do you suppose they’re doing?”
Jo helped herself to a couple of grapes from the bowl on the table. “I’m not sure, but it has something to do with the Hawthorne’s woman’s death. They went to her funeral, you know—Charlie and Annie, and of course Miss Dimple, too.
“And right after that they found that man’s body in the creek.” She shuddered. “Charlie won’t say much about it, but I’m telling you, Louise, there’s something peculiar going on out there and I’m … well … I’m uneasy about it.”
Lou slid the sliced potatoes into a bowl of salted water to keep them from turning brown and washed her hands at the sink. “Have they found out how that man died?”
Her sister shook her head. “I don’t know for sure, but from what I’ve heard, it sounds like murder.”
“I wonder…” Lou absently dried her hands on her apron. “That Japanese woman—what’s her name? I wonder if she had anything to do with it. They haven’t been able to find her yet so she must be hiding somewhere. Maybe this man threatened to tell, and—”
Jo ate another grape and helped herself to a few gingersnaps from the cookie jar. Unlike her sister, who seemed to put on pounds at the very thought of food, Jo’s metabolism allowed her to eat as much as she wanted without gaining weight. This was sometimes a source of friction between them. “I can’t be sure,” she said, “but it’s beginning to look to me like those three might know something.”
“About the Japanese woman, you mean? How could they possibly know anything about that?” Lou rinsed a small chicken at the sink, slammed it onto a cutting board and, with a large
knife, cut it into pieces for frying while Jo watched in fascination. She had never learned to cut up a chicken properly.
Jo lowered her voice, although there was no one around to overhear. “Louise, I’m sure I heard them say something about Suzy! That is her name, isn’t it?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, Jo, she’s not the only Suzy around.”
“No, but they’re always going over to Virginia’s—even when she’s not at home. Charlie said they were working on some kind of project for school, but school’s out for the holidays, Lou! Delia told me they’d been over there all morning.”
“Well, my goodness, Jo, why don’t you just ask her?” Lou put the salted chicken in a bowl, covered it, and set it in the refrigerator, shutting the door with a nudge of her hip.
“I’ve tried, believe me, but you know how stubborn Charlie can be.”
Lou tossed off her apron and smiled. “And loyal to a fault. She must have a very good reason for keeping quiet about whatever’s going on. I feel better, though, knowing Dimple Kilpatrick is involved. She’s as sensible as that old umbrella she carries around. I can’t see Miss Dimple leading anyone into danger.”
Jo’s eyes widened. “Then you have a short memory,” she said, and reminded her sister of the teacher’s recent narrow escapes.
“Oh, dear! I suppose you’re right. She has such a proper demeanor, it tends to make one forget her inclination to delve into risky detective work.” Lou laughed. “But then who am I to talk?”
Jo Carr sighed. “At least it’s keeping Charlie occupied so she doesn’t have as much time to worry about her brother and Will.”
“What do you hear from Fain, Jo?”
“Nothing recently. We know he’s somewhere in Italy but when we do get a letter it’s been censored so much it’s hard to tell much of anything.” She shrugged. “Not that I care if it keeps them safe. Delia’s Ned’s over there, too. We shipped packages to them for Christmas weeks ago but God knows when they’ll get them—or even if they’ll get them.”
Lou Willingham linked an arm in Jo’s. “Come on, let’s go and sit by the living room fire awhile and think up some devilment to get into. It sounds to me like Charlie and that bunch could use a little help. What else did you overhear in the hallway?”
Jo, momentarily relieved to have her mind off her soldier son, spoke before thinking. “It seems to have something to do with some missing paintings,” she said.
“Really?” Lou gave the wood fire a hearty poke. “Where do you suppose they might be?”
“They were talking about some outbuildings near where Mrs. Hawthorne lived.”
“Whose outbuildings? I know her nephews live somewhere close by.”
“They mentioned them,” Jo said. “And somebody named Rebecca.”
Lou frowned. “I wonder who that could be.”
“And … oh, yes, those people who let us cut down a Christmas tree—the Curtises.” Jo stretched her feet to the fire. “I do hope it doesn’t turn out they had anything to do with it. It’s really a beautiful tree.”
Lou was quiet as she watched the logs crackle and blaze. “Oh, Jo, wouldn’t it be fun if we could find them?” she said finally.
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Jo Carr tried to ignore the warning bells going off in her head.
“You just said they might be in an outbuilding. We could start with one of the nephews, or see what we can find on the Curtis property.”
“I suppose we could look there,” Jo said, rising to her feet. “Charlie said they weren’t going to cut down a tree because they were leaving town for the holidays. We should be able to look around all we want and nobody will be there to see us.
“But, Lou…” Josephine Carr forced her sister to meet her gaze. “We are not going to take any silly chances. Do you understand? This will be a quick—what do they call it in the army? Reconnaissance! We’ll go there only to scout out the area, and then come home—that’s all!”
“Well, of course, Josephine, I don’t know why you would assume I’d do otherwise.”
Lou’s offended demeanor seemed to have no effect on her sister, who continued to drive home her case. “I mean it, Lou! Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten that horrendous night you got the car stuck in—”
“And a good thing I did, too,” Lou reminded her, “or we never would’ve found what we did.” She gave the fire a final poke and replaced the poker with a clang. “You’ll have to admit it, Jo, the police never would’ve figured out that one if it hadn’t been for us.”
“And Miss Dimple,” Jo said, smiling. “Don’t forget Miss Dimple.”
* * *
“Theee holly and theee ivee, when they are both full grooown…” Jo sang, making herself comfortable beside Lou in the Willinghams’ car the next morning as they drove through the streets of Elderberry. “Remind me to look for some holly while we’re out there, will you, Lou?”
“Is that what you told Charlie and Delia we were doing this morning?” Lou stole a glance at the brick building on the corner where her husband practiced dentistry and hoped he wouldn’t be glancing out the upstairs window overlooking the street. It wasn’t that Ed Willingham minded her using the family car as long as she left gas in the tank, but whenever Lou and her sister went on one of their rambling adventures, he sprouted additional gray hairs on his head and the car ended up being more worse for the wear than before.
“I had to tell them something,” Jo admitted. “And I don’t mind stretching the truth one bit after all Charlie’s hush-hush goings-on.”
This close to Christmas most people had completed their holiday shopping but a few shoppers looked for last-minute items at Brumlow’s Dry Goods, Murphy’s Five and Ten, or Bennie Alexander’s Jewelry and Gifts. Although many goods were in short supply, store windows, decorated for the season, displayed what they could offer, and as they passed the post office, Jo noticed that someone had tied a pine branch to the recruiting sign out front with a bright red ribbon.
The sun had been playing peek-a-boo since breakfast but by mid-morning seemed to have used up most of its light and the day turned gray and dreary. Both women wore warm—although worn—jackets, and, having learned from past experiences, had brought along hats and gloves as well.
“Looks like you’re in luck about the holly,” Lou observed later as they approached the Curtis farm. “There’s a huge tree right in their yard. I wonder if they’d mind—”
“Of course! Charlie brought some home the other day. This must be where they got it.” Jo tugged on her galoshes as she spoke. “She said the people told them they could take all they wanted.
“Don’t stop yet, Lou! First we have to be sure nobody’s there. Just slow down a little.”
“I don’t want to risk turning around in the road. I’ll just pull in their driveway and pretend we’re turning around. Look, now, Jo, and see if you see a car.”
“The garage is empty,” Jo said, stuffing salt-and-pepper curls under her hat. “Looks like we can pull around and park in that grove of trees behind it. Might look suspicious if we were seen from the road.”
Lou thought it probably looked suspicious anyway but she kept that to herself. “Oh, lordy, Jo! What if there’s a dog?”
“Charlie didn’t mention one.” Still, Jo stepped cautiously out of the car and looked about. “There’s a barn back there. Do you think the paintings might be stored in there?”
“We’ll never know if we don’t look.” Louise stopped still in her tracks. “Jo, what if somebody’s actually at home? What if somebody’s watching?”
“Guess we should’ve thought of that first. One of us will have to go to the door and knock.”
“Good idea.” Folding her arms, Lou leaned against the car. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
“You go ahead! Why do I have to do everything?”
“Oh, all right! We’ll both go,” Lou grumbled. “We’ll have to hurry, though, in case Ed decides to come home for dinner.”
“I t
hought you said he was going to get a grilled cheese today at Lewellyn’s.”
“He said he probably would, but he might change his mind, and you know he’s going want to know where we were.”
Leaving her sister behind, Jo marched right up to the door and knocked. Just then, Ed Willingham’s dinner was the least of her problems.
After knocking several times, the two waited a few minutes before walking around the house to the barn lot. Chickens, confined to a fenced area behind the barn, squawked wildly before returning to peck at whatever they could find on the ground, and Jo hoped that whoever was responsible for gathering their eggs and feeding them had completed their job for the day.
Closing the gate behind them, she looked around the barn lot. A rough-hewn trough was half filled with water but other than a gray-striped cat, there were no animals in sight. “I think the cattle must stay in the pasture,” she said. “Seems empty in here.”
“Still smells like horses, though.” Lou sniffed as they stepped inside the yawning barn where bridles and farm implements hung on the walls and wisps of hay were scattered underfoot.
“Or mules,” Jo said, peering into an empty stall. “I guess Mr. Curtis gave up plowing the old-fashioned way.”
“And here’s why!” Lou made her way to the other end of the barn to find a tractor tucked away to one side.
Jo sneezed and dug in her pocket for a handkerchief. “If there are any paintings in here, I don’t know where they’d be. Come on, let’s get out of here before somebody comes.”
“We haven’t checked everywhere yet,” Lou reminded her, looking up.
Jo spied the ladder that led to the loft from a wall of the barn. It didn’t seem too sturdy. “Be my guest,” she said with a bow.
“All right, I will.” Sighing audibly, Lou walked purposely over to the ladder and tugged on a rung. It creaked.
Jo sneezed again. “My hay fever’s acting up, Lou. I have to get out of here. That ladder’s probably been there for ages. Do you really want to chance a broken leg?”
Miss Dimple Suspects: A Mystery Page 15