“For heaven’s sake, Jo! All old buildings creak. This ladder is perfectly safe.” Lou put one foot on the bottom rung and pulled herself up. “See?” The ladder protested again.
Jo Carr glanced from her pudgy sister to the opening at the top of the ladder and estimated the distance in between. “Oh, all right!” she said, pulling her aside. “I’ll take a quick look up there, but I’m not doing more than that, and if I kill myself falling off this ladder, I’ll haunt you the rest of your life, Louise Willingham!”
Cautiously and steadily, Jo made her way up the ladder while Lou stood watch below. Could their car be seen from the road? And what on earth were they going to say if somebody found them here? Had the chickens already been fed? And who was taking care of the gray cat she’d seen earlier?
Finally reaching the top, Jo pulled herself through the opening and crawled onto a rough floor thick with dust. “I can’t see much of anything up here,” she said, coughing.
“Well, look, Jo!” her sister insisted. “It would be a perfect place to hide them. We have to be sure. And just think how exciting it would be if we really did find them!”
“There’s a trunk over there against the wall—or I think it’s a trunk.” Jo stood and tested the floor with an exploring foot. “There are probably rats up here, and no telling what else.”
“I’ve heard most farmers keep black snakes to keep down the rats.” Lou spoke before thinking. “Not that there are any here, of course, and black snakes aren’t poisonous anyway.”
Jo, who had made her way halfway across the floor, did an about-face. “That does it, Lou! I’m coming down right now!”
“No! No, stay there!”
Jo heard the creaking of the ladder as her sister made her way to the top, and huffing, squirmed through the opening onto the floor of the loft. “Oh, damn!” she hissed. “Quick, Jo! Get down and be quiet. Somebody’s coming.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Don’t you dare sneeze! Jo held a hand over her mouth and pinched her nose. If someone were to look up from below they would be able to see them, as the loft covered only a portion of the barn. Lou had made her way over to the trunk and knelt beside it and Jo, finding nowhere else to hide, lay facedown on the floor as someone walked below.
“Here, kitty!” a woman called. “I know you’re in here somewhere! Come on, now and get your dinner.”
Jo didn’t recognize the voice, but she did recognize the rat scat that was almost under her nose and forced herself not to jump up and exclaim in disgust. If there was a snake in here, it hadn’t done its job. Quietly moving her head an inch or so, she found she could see below through a crack in the flooring but her vision was limited, and she had no idea where the woman might be.
On the other side of the loft her sister was making frantic gestures that seemed to have something to do with her foot and the ladder. Naturally the loft had been used in the past for storing hay, and Jo pressed her hand against her mouth and nose to avoid choking on the film of dust and debris. She frowned. What was Louise trying to tell her?
Lou’s eyes widened in fear as the footsteps below came nearer, and it was then Jo realized her sister was missing one of her galoshes. She must have lost it in her hurry to get up the ladder.
Jo Carr held her breath and closed her eyes. What if the woman saw it? Would she pursue them into the loft? Heavy footsteps paused beneath them. “Kitty?” the woman called again and sighed. “Oh, well, I guess you’ll eat when you’re hungry.”
Jo squinted through the crack to see a large woman in a brown coat bend over and set a dish on the floor of the barn. She wore a green knitted cap over dark hair streaked with gray that had been gathered into a bun in the back, and looking about once more, plodded out of the barn.
After what seemed an eternity of waiting, Lou crept from behind the trunk and Jo rose and brushed herself off.
“I thought she’d never leave!” Lou said. “Were you able to get a good look?”
Jo finally allowed herself to sneeze. “It wasn’t anybody I recognized. Probably a neighbor. We need to get out of here, Louise, before she or somebody else comes back.”
“One of my galoshes fell off when I was trying to get up that blasted ladder and I didn’t have time to go down and get it. Do you reckon she saw it, Jo?”
“We’re lucky she didn’t seem to notice it,” Jo said, making her way to the ladder. “I know one thing—I’m going to soak in a hot tub as soon as I get home! Let’s go!”
“Wait. First I want to see what’s in that trunk. For all we know it might be crammed full of expensive paintings.” Lou carefully raised the lid of a battered chest of peeling leather that appeared to have been there at least a hundred years, and yelped as a mouse scurried from a hole in the bottom.
“Oh, lordy! That scared me so I nearly wet my pants!” Lou said, letting the lid slam shut with a bang.
“Well, if anybody’s still around, they’ll know we’re up here now.” Jo hesitated at the top of the ladder. “Did you see what was in the trunk?”
“Just some old clothes and a lot of rat mess. They’d have to be crazy to store paintings in there.” Lou glanced behind her with a shudder. “Hurry up, will you, Jo? And for heaven’s sake, don’t let me forget that other galosh!”
Jo waited impatiently while her sister retrieved the rubber shoe covering and put it on again. It must be close to noon or even later, as her stomach rumbled in expectation. She was standing near the open door to the barn when she heard someone approaching.
“There’s somebody up there, Esau! I just know it!” The woman spoke in a near whisper. “And I think I saw one of those rubber boot–like things at the bottom of the ladder. Now, why would anybody leave that there?”
Heart thumping, Jo turned and dragged her bewildered sister into the closest stall. Lou didn’t go willingly. “What are you doing, Jo? Leave me alone! I thought you were ready to get out of here.”
“Shh! Be quiet! Somebody’s coming.” Jo pulled Lou into a nest of hay and hastily threw a smelly moth-eaten blanket over the two of them just before footsteps sounded on the floor nearby.
“I don’t see anything under that ladder.” A man spoke as the two walked past. “Are you sure you heard something, Coralee?”
“I tell you it was there! And now it’s gone! They’ve got to be here somewhere.”
Jo’s nose itched and Lou’s elbow jabbed into her side but she didn’t dare move. Please, oh please, don’t let them look in this stall!
Jo felt her sister’s hand reach for hers and she clasped it tightly. How on God’s green earth were they going to explain this?
“I reckon you heard that cat,” Esau said. “Must’ve been hungry. Look at him eat.”
“How could a cat get up in the loft? I tell you I heard something moving up there!”
“This old barn is probably overrun with rats, but you’re welcome to go up there and look. My back’s been acting up all week.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Esau. I know what I saw.” From the sound of her footsteps, Coralee seemed to be walking about the barn.
“Well, if somebody was here, they’re gone now and no harm done. Come on now. Let’s go or I’m gonna miss the farm report on the radio.”
Coralee’s reply was muffled and the footsteps finally seemed to be fading, but neither Jo nor Lou dared to move. What if they’re just pretending to leave? Jo thought, because that’s what she would do. She squirmed and her sister kicked her. If only her nose would stop itching! How long were they going to have to crouch under this suffocating blanket?
“Ugh! I can’t stand this any longer!” Lou stood and tossed off the offending blanket. “If we get arrested for trespassing, at least the jail will be more comfortable than this!”
Jo looked at her sister and laughed. Lou had a smudge of dirt on her cheek and straw sticking out of her hair.
“What’s so funny?” Lou said.
“I wish you could see yourself, Louise. If you had a
straw hat, you’d make a good scarecrow,” Jo told her as her stomach rumbled again. “I wonder if they’ve served dinner yet at the jail?”
Fortunately, no one came but they waited a few minutes longer just to be sure before bolting for the car. “Good thing we parked here in the trees,” Lou said as they made their escape. “I guess they weren’t looking for a car.”
Jo looked behind them as they turned into the road. “I hope they didn’t see us leave.” She pulled off her hat and gloves and crammed them into her coat pocket. “Wonder what time it is. I’m famished.”
Lou groaned. “I hope Ed ate at the drugstore. He’ll take one look at me and know I’ve been up to something. And we forgot all about getting that holly. We’ll have to think of something, Jo.”
Her sister agreed. Before the war it was perfectly natural to go pleasure riding, but with gas rationing that was unacceptable if not impossible. “We’re not too far from our little patch of land,” she reminded her, speaking of what was left of the family farm. “It shouldn’t take long to grab a few branches of pine.”
It didn’t, and they were soon on their way again, the car smelling strongly of mule sweat and pine rosin. Jo rubbed her hands together in an effort to remove the sticky smears. “Well, at least we know where the paintings aren’t,” she said.
Lou turned down Katherine Street. “That was a close shave, Jo! I think I lost a year off my life back there. I’ll swear, I don’t know how I let you talk me into all these crazy things!”
* * *
“You know, Virginia, I could be happy living right here in this library,” Dimple said, looking around at the book-lined room where a wood fire leaped in the stone fireplace and evergreens festooned the mantel. She stooped to stroke Cattus, the rotten spoiled library cat who slept on the braided rug before the fire. Cattus twitched and ignored her. “If there’s such a thing as reincarnation,” she said, laughing, “I’d like to come back as Cattus the Second.”
Virginia stepped down from the stool she used in reshelving books. “I suppose you finished decorating the tree at Phoebe’s last night.”
“With Annie and Charlie helping, it didn’t take long. They strung so much popcorn we even decorated a small tree outside for the birds.” She sighed. “Phoebe mentioned inviting you for Christmas dinner and I do wish you could come, but I didn’t know what to tell her.”
“Tell her I appreciate the invitation but I’m expecting a visit from my cousin.”
“Which cousin?” Dimple asked.
Virginia shrugged. “I have several. Let’s see, how about my cousin Roberta? I always liked her. Unfortunately she died several years ago.
“Really, Dimple, Suzy would be most upset if she thought her being there was depriving me in any way,” Virginia said with a frown. “But as much as I would love to accept, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave her—not on Christmas Day. I hope she doesn’t learn of this, Dimple.”
“We’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t.” Dimple joined Virginia at the window where afternoon shadows spread a splotchy cloak across the lawn. “Isn’t that Annie coming now? And Charlie, too.”
Virginia glanced at her watch. “And just in time if they want a book. I was thinking of closing a little early today. I have several errands to run and Jesse Dean’s holding a few things for me at Cooper’s.”
* * *
“Well, they know.” Charlie stood in the doorway with Annie standing behind her.
“Know what? And who is they?” Virginia wanted to know.
“My mother, that’s who!” Charlie announced, flinging herself onto the old cracked leather chaise longue. “And Aunt Lou, naturally. I’m pretty sure they know we’ve been looking into what happened to Mae Martha Hawthorne.”
Miss Dimple took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “And Suzy? Do they know about Suzy?”
“I’m not sure, but they might suspect,” Charlie said. “And knowing those two, it won’t be long before they do.”
Virginia calmly collected the pencils and pens on her desk and put them into a can a young reader had decorated for the season. “You could be jumping to conclusions, you know.”
“I hope you’re right, but they came back from some excursion this morning they said to collect greenery for the church altar and all they had was a puny little bucket full of pine boughs.”
Miss Dimple nodded. “Pine is lovely at Christmastime and so fragrant, too.”
“But it shouldn’t take all morning to collect it—especially since we have a good-size tree in our own backyard. Mama tried to sneak in the back door, too, so we wouldn’t notice how she looked—all dusty and grimy with straw sticking to her. No telling where she’d been.”
Virginia shrugged. “Certainly not Christmas shopping. So … what should we do?”
Annie, who had been standing by quietly, spoke up. “I think we should tell them—not about Suzy—not yet, but we might as well take them into our confidence and share what we’ve learned about Mrs. Hawthorne. After all, we can use all the help we can get, can’t we?”
“You’re right,” Miss Dimple said. “They might know something we don’t, and frankly, I’d be glad of their assistance.”
Virginia nodded. “I agree. Christmas is almost upon us, and the longer this drags on, the less chance we have of finding out who’s responsible for all this grief. It stands to reason that whoever took the paintings is the one who killed Mrs. Hawthorne, and probably that fellow, Bill, as well.”
“Which means we’ll have to find the paintings,” Annie said. “So, where do we start?”
* * *
“I can tell you where not to look,” Louise Willingham told them when they stopped by her house later that day. “You won’t find them in the Curtises’ barn!” And she told them about their narrow escape. “Esau Ingram and his wife must’ve been asked to feed the cat and chickens while the Curtises were out of town and unfortunately, we happened to show up at the same time.”
Charlie frowned. “Are you sure they didn’t see you?”
Her aunt gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I haven’t been sure of anything since that awful day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and turned our lives upside down, but I don’t believe they saw us.”
“Did you notice any other outbuildings where the paintings might’ve been stored?” Miss Dimple asked, and Lou thought for a minute. “Well … there was a garage, and the chicken house, but I can’t imagine them being stored there. And it seems there might’ve been a woodshed or something like that.”
“How do we know they aren’t being kept in someone’s house?” Annie said.
Charlie shrugged. “We don’t, but I don’t want to be arrested for breaking and entering. Besides, from what Isaac said, quite a few are missing. I’d think they’d need a lot of space.”
“It shouldn’t take long to check out the woodshed,” Dimple said, “but I really don’t believe Harriet and Stanley Curtis had anything to do with taking those paintings. Mae Martha trusted them enough to ask them to keep some of her artwork in their church, but still…”
“Still, what, Dimple?” Virginia asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing—nothing worth worrying about. First, I think we should see what we can find on the nephews’ properties and, of course, there’s the woman who sold milk and eggs.”
Lou, who had been hemming a dress she was making for Delia’s Christmas present, set her sewing aside. “I haven’t heard about her. What makes you think she had anything to do with all this?”
A warning glance from Virginia alerted Dimple she had probably shared more than was wise. “Mrs. Hawthorne happened to mention her when I was there,” she explained quickly. “She’s one of the few neighbors who live nearby—close enough for Suzy to walk there and collect what they needed from the springhouse.”
“It doesn’t seem likely either of the nephews would be bold enough to try to conceal those paintings on their property,” Virginia said. “They must be visiting back and forth all t
he time and it would be taking quite a risk, don’t you think?”
Dimple admitted that was true, but it was also a risk to take someone’s life. “We must be very, very careful,” she reminded them, setting aside the cup of tea Lou had served. “I learned today from Doctor Morrison that the man Charlie found in the creek, was indeed drowned, murdered. I fear we’ve been staring evil in the face.”
“But whose face?” Annie asked.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“We can’t go prowling around somebody’s property in broad open daylight,” Charlie said.
“Well, your mother and I are both working at the ordnance plant tomorrow, so we won’t be able to prowl anyway,” her aunt said.
Virginia smiled. “I thought you might take a few days off around the holidays,” she said, but Lou Willingham shook her head. “War doesn’t take a holiday,” she said. “I wish it would, but we do have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”
“Now that we know about what time Esau and his wife feed the Curtises’ animals, we might be able to examine their place in the morning if we do it quickly,” Miss Dimple suggested.
“And if we’re caught, it might be a good idea to pretend we’re calling on the bereaved,” Annie said. “We could bring a jar of jam or something.”
“We’ve already been there once,” Charlie reminded her, thinking selfishly about the two remaining jars of peach preserves on the pantry shelf.
“But we didn’t bring anything, and we don’t have to give it to them unless they show up,” Annie insisted.
Lou laughed. “Don’t worry. I can spare a jar of chow-chow.”
“What about the other nephew—the blacksmith?” Virginia asked.
“He has plenty of places out there to store paintings or anything else,” Charlie told her, remembering the buildings scattered about, “but why would he call attention to the paintings being missing if he took them himself?”
Dimple polished her glasses with a purple-bordered hankie. “I imagine he has a list of them. And his brother probably has one, too. Even if he doesn’t, surely he and his wife would know Isaac was keeping an account.”
Miss Dimple Suspects: A Mystery Page 16