Miss Dimple Suspects: A Mystery

by Mignon F. Ballard

  “I wonder…” Sheriff Holland turned to go.

  “Wonder what?”

  “If Rebecca Wyatt started that fire and then had second thoughts and put it out,” he said.

  “Huh! If she did, she sure took her sweet time doing it!” Charlie told him.

  * * *

  Emmaline Brumlow tucked three hefty books under her arm and planted her feet in front of Virginia’s desk. “Well, Virginia,” she said. “I hope now you’ll believe that Japanese woman is dangerous! I doubt if you and Dimple will make light of my little warnings anymore. Why, none of us is safe with that sneaky little Jap on the loose!”

  Virginia drew in her breath to answer, but Dimple, who had stopped in earlier, thought it best to ignore the comment. “I see you’re reading Mark Twain,” she said, peering at the titles. “I do so enjoy him. His stories never get old, do they?”

  “Oh, these are for Hugh.” Emmaline stroked the cover of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court as one might caress a loved one. “I never have time to read, but Hugh asked for these especially.”

  It amazed Dimple how quickly the woman’s expression changed from downright hateful to Christmas-morning happy. “You know he’s coming home tomorrow,” Emmaline said, “and Arden and I are trying to cook everything he likes—or at least as much as rationing will allow. I’m going home now to bake that jam cake he loves so. Marjorie Mote, bless her heart, insisted I take her last jar of blackberry jam.”

  Marjorie knew how important that jam was, Dimple thought, after losing one son earlier in the war and with another serving somewhere in the European Theater. “I can imagine how excited you must be,” Dimple told her. “I’m so pleased that Hugh will be here in time for Christmas and I hope to see him after he’s had a chance to settle in.” Dimple Kilpatrick had known and admired Hugh Brumlow since she taught him back in the first grade, and she, as well as others who had watched him grow up in Elderberry, was grateful he was coming home at last after losing a leg serving as a navy corpsman. And, as many others did, she often wondered how grumpy Emmaline had given birth to two such delightful offspring as Arden and Hugh.

  “We’ve moved his bedroom to that little study downstairs,” Emmaline continued, “but as soon as he’s fitted with a prosthetic leg and learns to walk with it, my brave boy plans to apply for medical school, so we won’t get to have him long.”

  Dimple smiled. “He’ll make a wonderful doctor,” she said, and meant it.

  Virginia agreed. “Please give him our love, Emmaline, and do let me know if he’d like more books and I’ll be happy to drop them by.”

  Virginia sighed as Emmaline left, balancing books under one arm and her huge purse, the other. Dimple hurried to close the door behind her. “Well, that’s a relief!” Virginia said. “Thank goodness Hugh will be here to keep that dreadful woman occupied for a while.” Frowning, she moved around her desk to face her friend. “Dimple, is it true what she just told me? Good heavens, you smell like you’ve walked through a forest fire!” Locking the door, she led Dimple to a comfortable chair. “Please, sit down now and tell me what happened out there yesterday.”

  Dimple permitted her friend to seat her. Although she was reluctant to admit it, she did feel a bit unstable on her feet. “I don’t see why we even need telephones or newspapers,” she said. “Emmaline Brumlow seems to know everything as soon as it happens. I wonder how she does that! I was hoping to tell you about it before the news got around, but it took longer than I thought to wash away all that smoke and grime.”

  Virginia poured coffee from her Thermos and opened a tin of molasses cookies Lou Willingham had brought her, and Dimple allowed herself to relax at least for a little while as she told Virginia what had happened at Rebecca’s Wyatt’s.

  “Somebody must think we know more than we do,” Virginia said. “I wonder if it’s one of the Ingrams? Esau suggested you go there for eggs, didn’t he? And his brother lives nearby.”

  “Don’t forget about Coralee,” Dimple reminded her. “She could’ve recognized Lou yesterday at the Curtises’ and her name was on that jar of chow-chow Annie left. Whatever they’re trying to cover up must be something terrible to make them set fire to that shed with us in it!”

  Virginia nodded solemnly. “And I think we all know what that is.”

  “I’m hoping Rebecca Wyatt will be able to help clear this up,” Dimple said, deciding one more cookie wouldn’t hurt just this once. “I can’t imagine where she might be, and frankly, I’m afraid she might be in danger herself.”

  “I imagine she’ll turn up soon,” Virginia assured her.

  * * *

  Although later that afternoon when Dimple spoke with Sheriff Holland, he still hadn’t been able to locate the missing woman.

  “Someone has to be looking after her animals,” Dimple said. “Cows have to be milked, chickens fed, and then there’s the cat. I can’t see her going off and leaving them.”

  “The Fuller boy is taking care of that, I understand. Abbott Fuller, lives about a mile or so on the other side of the hill. Esau Ingram said he helps out at the Wyatt place on a regular basis and the boy’s mother told me Rebecca had left a note in the barn asking him if he’d see to the animals for a few days.”

  “What about the Ingram brothers? I assume you’ve spoken with Esau.”

  “Said he was at the barber’s and then picked up a couple of things from Clyde Jefferies at the Feed and Seed, and his alibi checks out. Still haven’t been able to find Isaac, but his brother said he thought he went into Atlanta to see a customer about a wrought-iron gate.”

  “I see,” Dimple said, but of course she didn’t.

  “When we learn anything more, we’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, I want you ladies to promise you won’t go roaming around where you don’t belong.” Sheriff Holland paused. “I mean that, Miss Dimple. I’d have to find me another job if I let anything happen to you!”

  * * *

  “My goodness, the sheriff sounded rather short with me,” Miss Dimple told Annie after relating the conversation. “You’d think he would welcome our help.”

  Annie finished wrapping a teapot for Odessa and slipped it under the tree. No kitchen should be without one, Odessa claimed. This one was dark blue with yellow flowers and Annie knew she’d been admiring it at Murphy’s Five and Ten. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve and everyone had been saving their ration stamps to buy sugar for fudge, and she and Charlie, with some of the other teachers, planned to go caroling after the evening church service. For a couple of days, at least, Annie Gardner didn’t even want to think about the fact that somebody wanted them dead.

  * * *

  “It’s a shame Virginia and Suzy won’t be able to have Christmas dinner with the rest of you at Phoebe’s tomorrow,” Charlie said as she and Annie walked home together after caroling the following night.

  Annie agreed. “Virginia’s planning on having a baked hen with dressing and cranberry sauce, and Phoebe sent one of Odessa’s sweet potato pies, so at least they’ll be able to enjoy a traditional dinner, even if it’s just the two of them.” She knew it wouldn’t be the same, though, and hoped Suzy would never learn Virginia had turned down an invitation to be with friends.

  The two had stopped at Virginia’s after caroling and stayed long enough to enjoy a mug of mulled cider. Earlier they had delivered small gifts of chocolates for Virginia and a colorful scarf for Suzy. Dimple had also left a package under the tree so the young doctor would have something to open Christmas Day.

  “Do you think it’s safe to walk home?” Virginia asked as they prepared to leave, the other carolers having gone their separate ways earlier. “I never thought I’d feel unsafe in Elderberry, but after that dreadful thing that happened the other day, I don’t know what to believe.”

  “It’s only a couple of blocks and if we see anybody suspicious, we’ll just run in somebody’s house.” Charlie smiled when she said it, but as they began walking down the dark street, she was tempted to look
over her shoulder. “Just think, Annie!” she said, in an effort to think happy thoughts, “This time next year Will and Frazier might be with us. As soon as I get home I’m going to sit by our lighted tree and write Will a long, long letter. Oh, I wish they could be here for Christmas!”

  As soon as she said it, Charlie regretted the words because Annie hadn’t heard from Frazier in several weeks and only knew he was on his way to somewhere.

  But that didn’t stop her from writing. “I wrote Frazier this afternoon,” she said. “Of course I have no idea when he’ll get it.”

  “You didn’t tell him what happened yesterday?” Charlie asked.

  “Absolutely not! What good would that do?”

  Charlie agreed. “They don’t need that worry on top of everything else, but it’s going to be hard to pretend everything’s all right.”

  “I guess that’s what they have to do all the time,” Annie said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Phoebe Chadwick looked around her table and, beaming, raised a glass of blackberry wine. “Thank you all for being a part of my Christmas! I do dislike an empty table, and with three of our guests away, Odessa and I wouldn’t have known how to prepare for the few of us remaining.”

  “I propose a toast to the cook,” Lottie Nivens said, raising her glass. “Where is Odessa?”

  “Spending Christmas with her family,” Phoebe explained, “but she did some of the baking ahead and left me detailed instructions on how to deal with the rest.” She smiled. “With help, of course, from Miss Dimple and Annie. But let’s first drink a toast to our brave men and women in the service of our country,” she added with a catch in her voice. Everyone knew her grandson, Harrison, was just completing his training at Fort Benning.

  “And to victory and an end to this horrible war,” Miss Dimple added, and everyone echoed, “Amen.”

  The wine, musky and sweet with an essence of summer, came from Phoebe’s own cellar from berries picked before the war, and everyone drained their glass—even Bessie, who went to the Baptist church and claimed to be a teetotaler.

  After a brief blessing from Phoebe, the diners helped themselves to baked hen with corn-bread dressing and cranberry sauce—and, of course, rice and gravy. Bessie had brought yeast rolls made earlier that morning and everyone bragged on how light they were, although Dimple didn’t think they were nearly as good as Odessa’s. Jesse Dean contributed a jar of olives from Mr. Cooper’s store, and Lottie, a sweet potato pie—her first attempt, she said.

  In the parlor behind them a fire burned low in the grate, and lights on the tree reflected in the window while from the radio in the kitchen a program of carols played softly in the background. Dimple Kilpatrick served herself green beans canned last summer from Phoebe’s victory garden, admiring as usual the familiar violet-patterned china, and smiled at Jesse Dean across the table. The two had become good friends during a frightening experience the year before and she was glad to see him looking well and strong after a recent accident.

  “I imagine you’ve been busy at the store these last few weeks, Jesse Dean,” she said. “You must be ready to relax.”

  Usually good-natured, it was surprising to see him scowl. “We had to hide things from Mrs. Brumlow or there wouldn’t be anything left on the shelves,” he said, shaking his head. “I can understand why she wanted everything perfect for Hugh, but for goodness sake, a few other people live here, too! If I hadn’t put away those olives, there wouldn’t be a jar to be had.”

  Lottie laughed. “I’m glad you did. I’ve always loved olives. They say most people have to develop a taste for them, but I don’t remember not liking them.”

  “Me, either!” Jesse Dean said. “I was told my mother craved them when she was … well … when I was on the way.” His face turned pink and he suddenly concentrated on helping himself to the cranberry sauce.

  “I’m surprised Emmaline Brumlow has time to shop, she’s been so busy passing out flyers,” Annie muttered.

  Bessie looked up from buttering a roll. “Dimple, do you believe that Japanese woman they’ve been looking for had anything to do with that fire? My goodness, what a fright that must’ve been! Thank goodness you were all able to escape!”

  Miss Dimple, with a knowing glance at Annie, admitted she was kind of glad of it, too. “Right now we just don’t know who’s responsible, but the sheriff’s working on it, and if the woman is a suspect, he hasn’t said anything about it.”

  “Then where is she?” Lottie asked. “She simply seemed to disappear after that artist was killed. If she didn’t have anything to do with it, why doesn’t she come forward?”

  “I imagine she’s afraid to,” Phoebe said. “After all, it seems there are those who’re ready to lynch her, guilty or not.”

  Thank you! Dimple thought, and smiled at her friend. Did Phoebe suspect? “And how is our little Peggy?” she asked, turning to Lottie. “Have you spoken with Kate Ashcroft recently?”

  Lottie Nivens smiled. “From what I hear, they’re having a hard time keeping her still, and she simply adores that dog! Kate says he follows her everywhere and they’ve had to move everything breakable because of his constantly wagging tail.”

  “Max is a gentle soul,” Miss Dimple said. “I had a feeling those two would become friends.”

  “I expect Peggy will be ready to come back to school after the holidays, but Kate has asked me to stay on for a few more weeks while she takes a brief leave of absence.”

  “She’s lucky you were available,” Annie said. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

  “If Miss Bessie will have me.” Lottie looked around the table and smiled. “I enjoy working with the children, of course, and my cousin Thelma lived here a few years back and she’s talked about it so much, I feel right at home. There’s something about…”

  “About what?” Jesse Dean asked, spearing another olive.

  Lottie shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I can’t exactly put it into words, but the other night the Ashcrofts invited me over to have supper and help decorate their tree, and Peggy brought out her doll—”

  “Lucy,” Miss Dimple said. “Odessa made it for her soon after her mother died.”

  “I had a rag doll named Lucy, too,” Lottie said, toying with a stalk of celery. “She had yellow yarn hair and wore a red-and-blue-striped dress.” She shook her head. “I wonder whatever happened to her.”

  “My favorite doll was named Dorothy,” Bessie mused. “Her body was stuffed with sawdust but she had a china head. I made the mistake of letting my cousin play with her and she tried to give her a bath.” She shook her head. “Poor Dorothy!”

  Everyone laughed but Jesse Dean. “Your doll,” he said to Lottie, “I wonder if that particular kind was made in the thousands—you know—like Raggedy Ann.”

  Lottie shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen another.”

  “What do you hear from your husband?” Miss Dimple asked her, and Lottie Nivens frowned. “Not much lately. I know Hal’s on a ship somewhere and when he does write, he has to be careful not to give anything away. He usually writes about his shipmates and the crazy things they do to entertain themselves—and the food, of course. I think they eat a lot of dehydrated stuff. I sent him a box with some of his favorite things for Christmas and I hope he’s received it.”

  “I’m sure it will be welcome whenever it gets there,” Bessie said, “and you’ll be welcome in my home, too, for as long as you’d like to stay.”

  Phoebe asked about Lottie’s cousin Thelma and discovered they had once worked together on the same committee in the Woman’s Club.

  “She’s really Hal’s cousin,” Lottie admitted, “but I feel as if I’ve known her all my life.”

  During the remainder of the meal the discussion continued on reports from friends and loved ones in the armed services. Annie’s brother, Joel, would soon complete his flight training, along with Charlie’s fiancé, Will. Annie’s Frazier was already on his w
ay overseas, and Phoebe’s adored Harrison soon would be. Jesse Dean, Miss Dimple realized, became unusually quiet and ate little of his dessert although they had a choice of three kinds. Jesse Dean only nibbled on his sugar cookie while Dimple and Phoebe did themselves well with Lottie’s gingery sweet potato pie, and the others chose Phoebe’s rich molasses pecan pie with dollops of whipped cream.

  Dimple knew that the young man suffered emotionally from being turned down by the draft board because of his poor eyesight, but he had become a dedicated air-raid warden and served in many other areas to help in the war effort. “Well, Jesse Dean,” she began, in an effort to draw him out of his doldrums, “I imagine you’ll be in charge of the store until the Coopers return from their visit. When do you expect them back?”

  “Not until the middle of next week,” Jesse Dean answered. He concentrated on his angel cookie, breaking it in two and nibbling on a wing.

  “That’s a lot of responsibility!” Bessie said, apparently realizing the situation. “Harris Cooper is fortunate to have someone he can rely on.” Jesse Dean smiled as the others all agreed but still had little to say.

  “I’m sorry Virginia couldn’t join us today,” Phoebe said, replenishing Bessie’s coffee, “but I can understand why she wants to spend time with her cousin—Roberta, isn’t it?”

  “Who?” Annie looked up from her pie, noticing, belatedly, a warning look from Miss Dimple.

  “Her cousin is visiting from out of town,” Phoebe explained. “I can’t remember where … somewhere far away, I believe.”

  “Very far,” Miss Dimple said.

  “I told Virginia her cousin would be welcome as well, but I think they planned on spending a quiet day together,” Phoebe continued.

  Dimple was relieved when Lottie made everyone laugh with a story about her young students rehearsing for the school assembly program. “They were supposed to enter singing and circle the tree on the stage,” she told them, “but instead of walking, they ran, and the poor tree was in danger of toppling.”