Miss Dimple and the Slightly Bewildered Angel (8 page)

“Have you seen the new boarder who's helping out in Odessa's place?” Lou asked. “I ran into Velma Anderson in Lewellyn's the other day and she said she was a wonderful cook—seems to come up with mouthwatering dishes from practically nothing.”

“Surely not better than Odessa's?” Jo's eyes widened. She could hardly cook at all and was in awe of Odessa's culinary accomplishments.

“No, no, of course not,” Lou protested, not wanting to be disloyal. “It just seems she showed up there … well … all of a sudden. Velma said Phoebe had posted a notice at Cooper's just as Harris was getting ready to close the day before.” She clicked her fingers. “And poof! There she was.”

“Charlie tells me everyone seems to like her,” Jo confided. “She's almost too good to be true. It appears odd to me, though, that she turned up the
very day
that poor woman's body was found, and now they say
somebody
tried to throw suspicion on poor Jesse Dean. At least Bobby Tinsley had better sense than to take it seriously; still, I don't like the idea that somebody
right here in Elderberry
would do such a thing. Why would he try to blame it on Jesse Dean unless he's the one who killed her?”

“Or
she.
” Lou rummaged in the refrigerator for leftovers to warm for supper. Her husband, Ed, was usually tired and hungry after standing on his feet at his dental office most of the day and would be ready to eat when he got home. She turned to Jo with a bowl of cold butter beans in her hand. “Surely you don't think there's a connection between this new boarder and that horrible thing that happened in the steeple?”

Her sister bit into another cookie and shrugged. “I suppose not, but still…”

“Still what?” Lou sliced leftover meat loaf into a pan and doctored it with catsup, waiting for Jo to continue.

“I know you can't believe half of what the child says,” she began, “and of course you have to take his wild imagination into consideration.…”

Lou slammed the meat loaf into the oven. “
What
child, Josephine? What on earth are you talking about?”

Jo paused. “Well, I wasn't going to mention it, but you know that funny Willie Elrod—lives next door to Phoebe?”

“Of course I know Willie. Seems to spend half his time reading the comic books in the dime store and the other half at Lewellyn's soda fountain. What about him?”

“Charlie taught him in her class a couple of years ago, so I suppose he's in the fifth grade now, so you'd think he would've outgrown this craziness, but the boy told Charlie the wildest tale! I can't imagine how he makes them all up.”

Jo eyed her sister silently and waited.

“He said,” Jo began, “he saw that new boarder—what's her name? Augusta? Anyway, he saw her hanging out laundry one morning early. Seems Willie had gone out to feed his dog, and he told Charlie she hung clothes on the line, and then—
whiff!
As soon as she finished hanging them out, she turned right around and took them down, and Willie swears they were
dry
!”

Lou smiled. “And you believe him?”

“I'm only repeating what Charlie told me.”

“The woman probably noticed it was going to rain and took the laundry in.” Lou shook her head. “That child watches too many movies, and I'm sure he listens to all those wild radio programs like
Captain Midnight
and
The Green Hornet.
”

“Probably. But it's odd, don't you think, that we haven't heard anything more about this woman who was killed and what she was doing here in Elderberry?”

“I doubt if the authorities have learned any more details.” Lou dropped a handful of silverware on the table and Jo took the hint and set two places for her sister and her husband.

“Charlie told me Miss Dimple and Virginia Balliew were going to try to speak to the woman's husband while he's here to make arrangements with Harvey,” Jo said. “Wonder what they'll find out.”

“Whatever it is, they won't tell us.”

“Maybe they will, and maybe they won't.” Jo smiled. “What's the name of that town where this woman lived? Somewhere in south Georgia, I think.”

Lou nodded. “Fieldcroft,” she said.
Now, what did her sister have up her sleeve?

*   *   *

“If anyone has mending or something that needs hemming, pass it along to me,” Augusta announced that evening. It was Friday, the school week over, and everyone relaxed in the parlor after enjoying a savory vegetable omelette with homemade bread and a piquant salad of apples, nuts, and bananas. And after halfhearted protests, Phoebe Chadwick and her boarders filled Augusta's mending basket to overflowing.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” Lily asked, tossing in a blouse with a torn buttonhole; others soon added a skirt with a jagged tear, another that needed hemming, and an assortment of holey socks. Phoebe was reluctant to contribute her old tweed jacket with a rip in the sleeve. “I don't even know if this can be fixed, Augusta, and I hesitate to ask you to take the time,” she said.

Augusta shook her head and smiled. “Idle hands are the devil's workshop, they say, and I surely don't want any dealings with that fellow, so let's at least give it a try.”

The house was quiet the next morning, with Augusta tucked away in her room with her sewing basket, and others busy with various tasks. Dimple, with a stack of workbooks to grade, took advantage of the spacious dining room table and had settled down to work, when someone knocked at the front door. Being the closest to answer, she was surprised to find Jo Carr and her sister on the porch, and of course she invited them in, as it was a chilly October morning.

Jo came directly to the point. “You're just the person we wanted to see,” she began. “Miss Dimple, I have an offer for you—”

At that point, her sister gave her a jab with her elbow and Jo stopped abruptly and then continued. “Excuse me …
we
have an offer for you.”

What in the world are these two up to? Dimple wondered. They were too old to be selling Girl Scout cookies, and the Scouts had even discontinued that and switched to calendars because of war shortages.

The two women hesitated in the entranceway and looked about. “We were hoping to meet your new guest,” Jo said. “We've heard such lovely things about her.”

Miss Dimple nodded, smiling. “And I'm sure there'll be other opportunities, but Augusta has retired to her room to catch up on some mending. It's been a rather hectic week, and I imagine she needs the rest.” Augusta hadn't asked not to be disturbed, but Dimple had a feeling she needed this time alone.

Shoving the workbooks aside, she cleared a space on the table and pulled out a couple of chairs. “I hope you'll allow me to offer you a cup of ginger mint tea and some of my Victory Muffins,” she said.

“Muffins?” Lou looked hopeful, but her sister knew better. “Oh, no thank you, Miss Dimple. We both had a late breakfast, and I honestly don't believe I could hold another crumb.”

Lou frowned at her sister. “But, I—”

“And we really have to rush if we're going to get to the telegraph office before it closes,” Jo hastened to say.

“Telegraph office? Oh dear!” Dimple clasped her hands under the table. “Not bad news, I hope.”

“No, no. Nothing like that. But that's why we're here, you see.” Placing both palms on the table, Jo took a deep breath. “My late husband, Charles, had a cousin who lived in south Georgia. Still lives there, as far as I know. I've looked at the map, and you won't believe this, but it's very near that little place that poor woman was from—the one who died over there in the church.”

Dimple waited silently. Surely this woman would eventually come to the point.

“Claudia has been begging me to come for a visit,” Jo continued, “and now, if you'll agree, I'd like to take her up on it.”

Dimple frowned. “I don't understand…” she began.

Jo pulled her chair closer to the table and leaned forward. “Lou and I have come up with a plan.… Well, really, it's more of an idea. I'm sure you're as concerned as we are about that woman falling from the steeple ladder—
if, in fact, she did fall.
From everything we've heard, it sounds like the poor thing was afraid for her life. She seemed to be running from somebody, and we're supposed to believe she
fell
? How do we know the person who killed her isn't still around? Why, it might even be someone we know.”

“Frankly, this has created quite a stir at our church,” confided Lou, who had abandoned the Methodists for the Presbyterians when she married Ed. “Poor Evan—you know Evan Mitchell, our minister, and a finer man never graced a pulpit—well, it's near about worried him to death with such an awful thing happening not twenty feet from where Mildred Hufstetler was just getting ready to play the prelude.

“The congregation's up in the air about it, that's for sure, and I'm afraid things won't settle down until we find out who's responsible.”

Jo jumped in when her sister paused for breath. “Lou and I believe we need to learn more about this Dora's background. And that's where you come in, Miss Dimple.”

Dimple was beginning to wish she hadn't answered the door. “And how is that?” she asked, although she doubted if she wanted to hear the answer.

“You're so much more experienced at this kind of thing than we are,” Jo continued, “and, after all, three heads are better than two. We should be able to stay with Cousin Claudia, and we hope you'll come with us. It's a fairly long drive, but Lou and I can go in together on the gas ration stamps, and we'll take my car, of course.”

“I don't believe it will take more than a day or so to find out what we want to know,” Lou added.

“And why do you think I might be able to help?” Dimple concentrated on polishing her bifocals.

Lou sighed. “Well, let's face it. People trust you, Miss Dimple. They open up to you, and we need to find out what kind of person this Dora was. What was going on in her life that caused her to run away? Maybe you could talk with some of her neighbors and others who knew her.
Somebody
must have helped her between the time she left home and then ended up here in Elderberry.…” Lou caught her breath. “
Ended up
 … oh dear, I didn't mean to make it sound so final. But then it was final, wasn't it?”

“And when did you plan on leaving?” Dimple asked.

“Why, as soon as possible,” Jo said. “Tomorrow, if we can get in touch with Claudia this afternoon. I don't think she has a telephone, so we decided to send a telegram.”

“But there's no way we could get back here by Monday,” Dimple explained, “and I couldn't possibly take time away from school.” Why, the very idea, she thought. Except in cases of illness or extreme emergency, Dimple Kilpatrick would never miss a day of school of her own volition.

Jo shook her head sadly. “In that case,” she said, “perhaps you could give us suggestions on what to say, and some questions we might ask.” She wasn't ready to admit it, but Jo Carr had another reason for the impromptu trip to Fieldcroft. After serving for years as society editor of the
Elderberry Eagle,
Jo was ready to move on to more serious reporting with an assignment that didn't involve an excessive use of adverbs and adjectives. Not only would the experience allow her an opportunity to learn more about Dora Westbrook's mysterious past but, if she played her cards right, her story might even rate a front page byline.

“I can do better than that,” Miss Dimple said after several moments of reflection. I can give you Dora's address, but first you must promise to be careful. Be very careful.”

She hoped she hadn't made a mistake.

 

C
HAPTER
N
INE

“You did
what
?” Virginia said when Dimple dropped by the library that afternoon. “Why, Dimple Kilpatrick, you know how flighty those two are. There's no telling what kind of mischief they'll get into down there.”

Virginia had built a fire in the old stone fireplace to take off the late-autumn chill, and the two women pulled their chairs close to take advantage of the warmth, while Cattus slept on the rug at their feet.

Dimple watched a flurry of red sparks disappear up the chimney. “Oh, well,” she said. “I suppose I know them well enough to believe they'll go with or without my support.” She found it difficult to be distressed while staring into the lazy, flickering blaze. “Besides,” she added, “Augusta has a friend there who has promised to keep an eye on them.”

Virginia sat up straighter. “Augusta? That new boarder at Phoebe's? She knows someone in Fieldcroft?”

Miss Dimple nodded. “In her line of work, I suppose she's lived in various places.”

Virginia frowned. “Her line of work?”

“Cooking. Housekeeping. Filling in where she's needed. She tells me she's a temporary,” Dimple explained.

“And don't you find that a bit too convenient? What do you know about this woman, anyway?”

Dimple smiled. “I know she can cook, and she mended Phoebe's jacket so you couldn't even tell it had been torn.”

Her friend answered with a sigh—one that was louder and longer than usual.
What in the world was the matter with Dimple Kilpatrick? She had never seen her as unconcerned and nonchalant.

“Has this woman cast a spell on you? I do believe she's hypnotized the lot of you.” She shook her head and whispered, “Emma Elrod says her Willie believes she's a
witch.
”

Dimple turned to Virginia and laughed. “And since when did you become concerned about the things Willie says?”