“Whoever is doing this certainly waited a long time to try and take advantage of the situation,” Dimple said. “Think, Phoebe. It must be someone new to the area, perhaps someone who lived here before and knew you in the past.”
Phoebe frowned. “Buddy Oglesby was raised here and lived away for several years, but he wasn’t even born when—well, when I went to stay with my aunt and had Kathleen, and I think we can rule out Sebastian, since he spent most of his life in Austria.”
“What about Coach McGregor and his wife?” Miss Dimple hadn’t told anyone what she suspected of the new coach, and didn’t plan to until she had a chance to speak with him privately. She liked Jordan McGregor in spite of her doubts and was reluctant to pursue her suspicions without further evidence.
“I don’t think so. At least I hope not. I hear he’s doing wonders with the football team this season.” Phoebe rose to set a stack of plates at the end of the table and added a basket of napkins. She didn’t have fifty more dollars to give to the person behind this faceless threat, and if it weren’t for Kathleen and Harrison, she wouldn’t concern herself about it at all. But the fact that someone would circulate vicious gossip about those she loved best spread like poison through her thoughts.
* * *
“They were there!” Lou Willingham spoke in a triumphant voice over the telephone Saturday morning.
“Who was there?” her sister asked.
“You know,” Lou whispered. “The people we talked about on the bus yesterday.” One had to be careful when using the telephone in Elderberry as you never knew when Florence McCrary, the local operator, might be listening in. “You promised to go with me tonight, remember?”
Jo sighed. “Oh, Lou, you know how you imagine things. I want to write Fain, and if I don’t finish that article about the Woman’s Club’s Harvest Social for the Eagle, it won’t get in next week’s edition.” Jo Carr took her part-time job as society editor for the local weekly seriously. “I don’t have time to go riding around in the middle of the ni—”
“Shh! I tell you they were there again last night, and you did agree to go with me. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
Jo had to admit that she was. “But I can’t stay out to all hours.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t have that much gas,” Lou said.
“What does Ed think about it?” Jo asked. Lou’s husband didn’t always go along with her outrageous ideas, but he seldom had a choice in the matter.
“Oh, Ed will be asleep. Conks out as soon as he listens to H. V. Kaltenborn and the news. He’ll never know I’ve been gone.”
Jo tried to think of a thousand reasons why she couldn’t go along, but she knew it was no use to argue.
“I’ll come by there in about an hour and we can go over our plans,” Lou said, and hung up before her sister had time to answer.
* * *
Annie hadn’t been home a day before nearly everybody in Elderberry knew that Buddy Oglesby was seen at a store in a little town not far from Atlanta. Some said he had already spent all the bond money and was driving a fancy new car (although it was a mystery where he’d gotten it as American manufacturers had begun putting all their materials into the war effort soon after Pearl Harbor and drivers had to make do with the ones they had). A few even claimed he had gone over to the other side and was spying for the Germans.
Josephine Carr dismissed all that, however. She really didn’t think Buddy would go over to the enemy and wasn’t even sure he had taken the money. She did wonder, though, if he might’ve had something to do with putting that shotgun in Reynolds Murphy’s car. “I think Buddy ran away because he was frightened,” she said as she and Lou discussed their nocturnal surveillance plans that afternoon.
“Frightened of who? Of what?” Lou wanted to know.
“I don’t know, but Charlie, and Annie, too, said he’d been acting strangely before all this happened. They told me Buddy said something that gave them the impression he might even know who killed Cynthia Reynolds.”
Louise peeled an apple and cut off a wedge. “Huh!” she said. “They must think Reynolds did it since he’s only out on bail. I wonder if Buddy was referring to him.”
“I guess Bobby Tinsley and his bunch must have their reasons, but if they ever do find Buddy, he’ll have a lot to answer for.”
“I sure do feel sorry for Reynolds’s son,” Lou said. “How old you reckon he is now? Twelve? Thirteen?”
“Ross? Well, he was around ten when his mama ran off—well, we thought she’d run off, so that would be about right,” Jo said. “Reynolds sent him to that military school, remember? Said he couldn’t give him the care he needed at home. I always thought that was a mistake.”
“I never understood that, either, but I guess he did what he thought best at the time. I wonder if the boy knows about his daddy being arrested.” Lou popped a slice of apple in her mouth.
“I hope not. At any rate, he’s out of jail now, and a good thing or that fire at Jesse Dean’s might’ve been a lot worse than it was. I hope they can get all this mess cleared up soon. Don’t we have enough to worry about with this horrible war?”
Lou noticed the catch in her sister’s voice and covered Jo’s hand with hers. “What do you hear from Fain?”
“As you know, we don’t hear often, and then he can’t tell us anything, but we did get a short letter a few days ago. He sounds all right, but of course that’s what he wants us to think. We don’t know anything until we hear it on the news, but I guess that’s the way it has to be.”
Charlie and Delia had taken the baby out in his carriage to visit some of the neighbors, and Jo and her sister visited in the sitting room, where a small coal fire burned on the hearth.
“I think we should wait until it’s good and dark before we go tonight,” Lou said, tossing her apple core into the fire. “We don’t want anyone to see us.”
“What if Virginia and Dimple see us? They might be curious as to why on earth we’re following them,” Jo said. “Frankly, I’m not one bit sure they were the ones you saw, Louise. Any number of people have cars the same color as Virginia’s, and what if these people are up to no good? You know, black market or something?”
But Lou brushed that aside as she stood to leave. “It was them, all right, no doubt about it. And what if they’re in some kind of trouble? They might need our help, Josephine.”
From what she’d heard of Miss Dimple’s past adventures, Jo thought she could probably take care of herself, but her sister was already on her way out the door muttering something about fixing Ed something to eat for supper.
* * *
“Where are you going so late, Mama?” Charlie looked up from the rolltop desk in the sitting room, where she was writing letters.
Jo hesitated. Should she tell her the truth? Uh-uh! “Oh, you know your aunt Lou—she’s found these old pictures in the attic, and it’s driving her crazy to know who they are. She thought maybe I could help.”
Charlie started to rise. “Do you want me to—?”
“No, no. I’ll be all right and the walk will do me good, but I think little Tommy’s fretful tonight with teething and your sister could probably use a hand.” She paused before leaving. “Writing to Will?”
“Will, and Fain—and Hugh, too. I promised I would, and he likes to hear all the hometown news. I worry about Hugh, Mama. He’s always going to be in the middle of some kind of terrible battle.”
“That’s why he trained for the Medical Corps, Charlie. It’s what he wanted to do. Emmaline won’t let on how she feels, but I know she worries about Hugh as much as I do about Fain.”
For a while Jo thought her daughter was in love with Hugh Brumlow, and Charlie thought she was, too, but one short afternoon with Will Sinclair had changed all that. Charlie still cared for Hugh and had corresponded with him faithfully, especially after he had been assigned to a ship a couple of months before. Neither Charlie nor his mother knew exactly where he was.
* * *
“What’s so funny?” Lou asked as her sister joined her in the car.
“Nothing, why?”
“You were smiling. What is it?”
“I wasn’t smiling, Louise. I was shaking. It’s freezing out here.” She was not going to give Lou the satisfaction of knowing she kind of enjoyed the risk of danger. After all, they were two middle-aged (well, all right—a little past middle-aged) women who had no business prying into things that didn’t concern them.
The car smelled of buttered popcorn and Ed Willingham’s pipe tobacco and, because it had no heater, was probably a lot colder than the inside of the Carrs’ Frigidaire. For comfort, Lou had brought along an ancient hand-knitted afghan and two bags of popcorn from the picture show. (Bessie Jenkins, who worked there Saturdays, would let you in to buy it if she knew you were of good conscience.)
“Have you seen them?” Jo asked, helping herself to the popcorn. If she could bottle the smell of it, Jo thought, she would make a fortune.
“Not yet. I drove around the block a couple of times. They might already be there. I can’t see a thing from the road.”
“Then how are we going to know?” Jo asked. “And if it turns out not to be Miss Dimple and Virginia, then what?”
“We don’t have to go all the way in, Josephine—just far enough to see if there’s a car back there. We’ll pretend we’re just turning around. Then we can park around the corner and see who comes out.”
Jo sighed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. “For heaven’s sake, what good will that do?”
Apparently Lou hadn’t thought of that because it took her a while to answer. “Then I guess we’ll follow them, Josephine, or come back in the daylight and try to find out what’s going on here. Maybe they’ve left some kind of evidence behind.” And, as if taking her sister’s silence for agreement, she started the car and drove into the weed-choked driveway of the vacant lot in question.
“Oh lord, Louise, how can you see where you’re going? It’s pitch-black dark. Turn on the headlights!”
“In a minute. I don’t want them to know we’re coming,” Lou said as a sapling bent and crunched under the left front tire. “Uh-oh! What’s that?”
“You ran into a tree, that’s what!” Jo strained to see in front of them but could see nothing. “There’s no car back here, Louise. Turn on the headlights and let’s get out of this place!”
“Don’t yell! I’m trying.” Lou switched on the headlights, but the engine stalled as she attempted to shift into reverse. “Something’s caught under the car. Oh, lordy! Ed will kill me.”
But that wasn’t the least of their troubles at the moment, Jo realized, as a dark figure dashed in front of the yellow glow of the headlights and disappeared in the surrounding darkness, and there was something vaguely familiar about the way he moved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Damn! The Prince Albert can was empty! Looks like the old girl wasn’t as rich as she’d thought and probably needed more time. Well, Phoebe Chadwick had better come up with that fifty bucks—and soon—if she knew what was good for her.
But there should be even more money in this other one. And easy! Why, it had dropped into her lap like pennies from heaven—better than pennies! She giggled at the thought. Well … maybe not heaven. She’d been walking through the parking lot beside the auditorium the night of the follies when she saw him put the shotgun in the trunk of that car! And how lucky was that?
The message should’ve arrived yesterday—plenty of time to get the money and leave it in a place where nobody would ever think to look, a place out of sight from anyone passing by. And there was money to be had—lots of it. No reason she shouldn’t enjoy some of it, was there? After all, think what he had done!
Making her way carefully around the tangled undergrowth in the front yard to the back of the house, she switched on her flashlight and threaded through long-neglected shrubbery to the place where she’d left the small metal box beneath sagging back steps. Straggly grass and vines concealed it so only she and one other person would know to look for it there.
Yes, there it was! She could see the glint of metal through the foliage.
But what was that? Something moved in the dry weeds behind her. The rustle of leaves and the faint snap of a twig sounded more frightening than cannon fire in this remote place. Someone was watching her. Waiting.
She ran, not toward the front but to the dubious safety of the vacant wooded lot behind it, where the cover of darkness and trees would protect her. It didn’t.
* * *
Josephine Carr cringed beneath the afghan. Would it be safer to stay in the car or make a break for it and run? And didn’t she swear she’d never let her sister lead her into a situation like this again? “Did you see that?” she croaked.
“I saw it. Probably some teenagers out sparking.” Lou pumped the clutch and managed to bring the engine to life, but the car wouldn’t budge. “Something’s stuck under there. We’ll have to get out and move it.”
“Maybe you didn’t see what I saw. There’s a man—well, I think it’s a man—out there, Louise, and for all I know, he might not be alone.” Where had she seen somebody run like that? She just couldn’t pinpoint it.
“Do you want to sit here all night? We’re going to have to do something soon because I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Well, just don’t think about it,” Jo said. “Sit on your foot or something.”
“I think he’s gone. It looked like he—she—it—whatever it was—was running away,” her sister said. “You can sit there like a bump on a log if you want to, but I’m getting out.”
What would be worse, Jo thought, getting out of the car to be murdered by an evil maniac or sitting safely inside while her sister was being attacked? Taking a deep breath, which she knew might be her last, she opened her door and felt her way around the car. The dim headlights did little to illuminate the ground in front of them, and she could hear Lou struggling with whatever was impeding their progress underneath the driver’s side of the car.
“You hold the flashlight,” Lou directed, “while I pull.” And that’s what they did, at least for a while, until Jo put down the light and joined in the tugging. Finally, something cracked, and they both fell to the ground with rosin on their hands and the strong smell of pine all around them.
“Hurry and get in and let’s try it again,” Lou said, pulling herself up with great difficulty.
Her sister needed no urging, but the stubborn car only shivered and lunged a few inches forward before digging deeper into its rut.
“It looks like we’re stuck,” Lou announced after the motor sputtered to a halt. “You’ll have to push, Jo.”
“Me? Why not you? You got us into this mess.” But she was cold and tired and wanted to go home, so Jo reluctantly climbed out of the car and began to push. However, after a few tries, the wheels only created a trench in the soft dirt.
Jo deliberately refrained from glancing at the darkness that surrounded her as she attem
pted to move the car from behind. If anything was out there, she didn’t want to know it. “I think we’re going to have to find some branches to put under the wheels to get some traction,” she said, hoping the imitation-rubber tires would hold up under the stress. Because of the war, rubber was in short supply, and what passed for rubber inner tubes required constant patching.
“Branches under the wheels? Isn’t that what caused this in the first place?” Lou said.
“Your driving into a tree is what caused it,” Jo said crossly. Her feet were cold, her hands were scratched, and she wished Lou hadn’t mentioned needing to go to the bathroom! She looked for somewhere to wipe her sticky hands but found nothing. “Come on, you’ve got to get out and help me find something that will do. I’m not wandering around here in the dark by myself.”
Using the headlights would drain the battery so, except for the flashlight, the two were in complete darkness. Stumbling into the undergrowth around them, Lou probed the area with the pale yellow beam, stopping now and then to break off a spray of cedar or pine, while Jo walked closely behind her, gathering what she could.
Neither of them noticed what appeared to be a fallen limb in front of them until they tripped over it and tumbled to the ground.
“Oh, lordy, what if there’s a snake in here?” Jo said as they struggled to help one another to stand. “Don’t they like to hide under logs?”
But just then the “log” groaned.
When she could think again, Jo wished her sister would stop that screaming, but it wasn’t Louise making all the noise, it was both of them, with Jo doing more than her share. Lou had Jo’s arm in a death grip and was attempting to drag her back the way they had come. “Forget the car!” she said. “We’re getting out of here.”
Stumbling along behind, Jo finally managed to wrench free. “Wait, Louise! We can’t. There’s somebody back there and they’re obviously hurt. We can’t just run off and leave them.”
The beam of the flashlight made erratic circles in the night as her sister attempted to plow her way through a forest of brambles and vines. “We’ll send help. Come on, Jo! We don’t know who that is back there.”
Miss Dimple Rallies to the Cause Page 18