Miss Dimple Rallies to the Cause (30 page)

They ordered coffee and, at Jordan’s insistence, apple pie. Dimple knew it wouldn’t be as good as Odessa’s, but it proved to be a fair competitor. She told him that, yes, she had come to the conclusion that Millie had taken the money while Buddy was in the restroom, and they were relieved to have it returned.

Jordan put down his coffee mug and stared silently at his plate before continuing. “There’s a name for what Millie had, Miss Dimple. It’s called kleptomania. She took things that didn’t belong to her.”

Miss Dimple was familiar with the term and nodded sympathetically.

After a minute, Jordan continued, and it was obvious he was having trouble with his emotions. “Earlier, you asked me about my time in New Guinea, and it led me to believe you might’ve been misled.” Flustered, he paused and ran an index finger around the rim of the mug. “You see, my wife … well, sometimes Millie exaggerated. She’d enlarge on a story if she thought it would bring more attention. In this case, I’m afraid she did, and I have no idea how many other tales she embroidered. It was an illness, and I know now she needed help, but she resisted that, and I was afraid I would lose her if I persisted … of course, in the end I did, didn’t I?”

Dimple Kilpatrick knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, no matter the situation. Such a long, long time ago in another war she had lost someone, too. Reaching across the table, she took his hand. No words, just a brief gesture, but Jordan’s face softened. “I was never in New Guinea, Miss Dimple. My unit was scheduled to go there, but there was an accident at the base—nothing dramatic or heroic. We were on maneuvers and the truck we were in turned over and crushed my leg. Frankly, all of us were lucky to get out alive, but it finished me for the army, I’m afraid.” Jordan took a swallow of his coffee and faced her across the table. “Others have told me they heard the same story from Millie. I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t enough of a hero to suit her.”

“Sometimes it takes a hero to admit the truth,” Miss Dimple said, “and to deal with our troubles during difficult times. I think you’re doing just that. Our young boys need you, Coach McGregor. Our town needs you, and I hope you’ll come to call Elderberry home.”

“Thank you.” The coach’s smile was brief. “I hope the money was all there.”

“That and more,” she told him. “Virginia found seventy-five dollars over what had been missing. Do you have any idea where that might’ve come from?”

He frowned. “I have an idea, but I don’t know what to tell you to do about it. I suppose I’ll just have to leave that up to Virginia.”

During the drive home Miss Dimple was pleased to hear Jordan McGregor relate how supportive his fellow faculty members had been and how touched he was by the comfort he’d received from members of the high school football team. “Already some of the boys are talking about enlisting,” he said. “Such fine young men! I just hope this war will be over by the time they’re old enough for the draft.”

Jordan didn’t mention the manner in which Millie had died until they drew up in front of Phoebe’s home and he walked with her to the door. “I don’t know what Millie was doing in that empty lot that night when she fell and struck her head, but from what I’ve heard, it seems she was being pursued. It drives me crazy wondering why and by whom, yet there’s nothing I can do but hope and pray the police will deal with it soon. First I think it might be one person, then another. It just doesn’t make any sense!”

Miss Dimple agreed. “Everything seems to have come to a boil all at once,” she said. “I hope we’ll have some answers soon.”

The coach paused as they reached the door. “There’s one more thing that bothers me,” he said before leaving, “Unfortunately, my wife was in the habit of saying things that weren’t true, but she did tell me something that has since caused me to wonder. Millie said she saw the person who put that rifle in Reynolds Murphy’s car the night of the follies … it wasn’t the one I might have suspected.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SEVEN

Harris Cooper’s wife, Angela, stood in the bedroom doorway watching Jesse Dean pack his bag. “Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” she asked. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your kindness,” Jesse Dean said. “You’ve both been so good to me, but it’s time to go home. I can’t stay here forever, and my neighbors tell me the damage to my roof has already been repaired.” Jesse Dean closed the suitcase with a feeling of finality. He didn’t want to leave this safe place and these loving people who had become like parents to him, but it was time to face his fears. “Doc Morrison says I can even come back to the store next week,” he added, smiling.

He flushed as Angela gave him a parting hug. “Harris is waiting in the car,” she told him. “And I think you’ll find a surprise there as well.”

The surprise waited on the front seat, but happily moved over to make room for Jesse Dean. He had brown floppy ears, a wet pink tongue, and a tail that wouldn’t stop wagging.

“His name’s Jake, and don’t ask me what breed he is because I don’t know, but he’s all yours,” Harris said.

And Jesse Dean enfolded the puppy in his arms and laughed. Now he wouldn’t be alone.

*   *   *

Shame on you! Josephine Carr told herself. She had been putting off going to see Emmaline Brumlow, when she, of all people, knew only too well the worry and uncertainty a mother endured after receiving tragic news from the front. Charlie, her own daughter, had called on the family twice and said Emmaline was beginning to face what had happened and was attempting to come to terms with it. That morning Jo had made up her mind to do her duty and was on her way with a loaf of cheese bread she’d made with Charlie’s help from a recipe they’d clipped from
Good Housekeeping
.

She remembered the sympathetic looks, the clumsy words of comfort, the hugs and the tears she had received from well-meaning friends when they learned Fain was missing, and she remembered how she’d wanted to run away; hide in some dark, quiet place and shut out the world. Above all she remembered the agonizing hurt and the near-impossible challenge of going on with her life.

Emmaline was a royal pain in the rear, but she was a mother and she was suffering. Bread in hand, Jo knocked at the door.

Arden, looking flushed and prettier than Jo had ever seen her, answered the door. “Mrs. Carr, please come in. I think there’s still some coffee left from breakfast. Why don’t I pour us a cup?”

Jo followed her into the kitchen, looking around for Emmaline. “Your mother? How is she, Arden?”

“Oh, she’s at the store.” Arden indicated a chair and turned a flame under the coffeepot. “I don’t guess you’ve heard, but we got some wonderful news late yesterday—well, maybe not the best news, but Hugh’s going to be all right, and he’s on a hospital ship on his way back to the States! They’re sending him to the army hospital at Camp Shelby in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and if we’re lucky he might even be home for Christmas!” Arden sat across from Jo at the kitchen table, her expression now serious. “Hugh lost a leg, Mrs. Carr, but he could’ve lost his life. They say they can fit him with an artificial limb and he’ll be able to walk again … he wants to study medicine, you know.”

Josephine Carr did know, because for a time she thought perhaps Hugh might become her son-in-law and Charlie had continued to correspond with him. She opened her mouth to tell Arden how glad she was to hear the news, but instead began to cry.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what made me do that,” she said after wiping her eyes. “I guess those were tears of relief.”

Arden stood and put her arms around her, and Jo saw that she had been crying, too. “I’m used to it,” she told her, laughing. “I never know when it’s going to happen.

“I have some other good news as well,” Arden added as she filled their cups. “I can finally plan my wedding. I wrote to Barrett last night and told him that as soon as he comes home after this war, we’re going to walk down that aisle.” She paused. “Or, at least I’m going to walk down it. I guess the groom just waits at the altar, doesn’t he? And Hugh can give me away. I don’t care if he has to escort me on crutches as long as he’s here for our wedding.”

Jo thought of Barrett Gordon, who was on a ship somewhere in the Pacific, and prayed that Arden’s wishes would be fulfilled. “Oh, Arden, how exciting for you! It’s never too soon to plan a wedding,” she said, not wanting to dampen the young woman’s enthusiasm. “And just think—since you’re in the retail business, I imagine you’ll be able to have your choice of wedding gowns.”

Arden nodded. “Maybe after the war. There’s not much to choose from now. I thought I’d have my bridesmaids wear yellow. It’s such a cheerful color, and my college roommate promised she’d be my matron of honor. She’s expecting her first child around Christmastime, and if the baby’s a girl, maybe she’ll be old enough to be my flower girl—but heavens, I hope we don’t have to wait that long!”

“You might want to change your mind about having a flower girl,” Jo said, and told her about a wedding she’d attended where that young member of the wedding party wet her pants on the way down the aisle and left a puddle at the altar.

“Oh, dear!” Arden said, laughing. “That sounds almost as outlandish as those nutty men in the womanless wedding.”

Coffee sloshed into the saucer as Jo abruptly set down her cup. The womanless wedding … of course! Now she remembered where she had seen the man with the peculiar loping gait.

*   *   *

So Millie was dead. And they said she was the one who had taken the War Bond money, and she’d probably done other terrible things, too. Delia had a hard time believing it, but she knew it was true and it left her with upside-down emotions. She had liked Millie McGregor, really liked her, or she had liked being with her because she was fun and Delia was lonely and bored, but when it came right down to it, she had never felt she’d known the
person
who was Millie. She was sorry Millie had died the way she did and hoped she hadn’t suffered. Her mother had tried to assure her that she hadn’t, at least not for long; and she sympathized with the husband she’d left behind, but Delia Varnadore felt used, cheated. The woman she’d thought was a friend was not only a liar, but also a thief who had schemed the whole time to cheat the people who had been kind to her, and then she would move on. Charlie and her mother—and Aunt Lou, as well—seemed to think Millie McGregor was saving up to leave them all behind—husband included. Of course they would never know for sure.

As she walked to town pushing little Tommy in his carriage, it occurred to Delia that she had used Millie as well. Would the older woman still have seemed fun and appealing when her old friends came home from college? Delia drew in her breath.
I don’t want to ever be like that!
Steering the carriage around a rough spot in the sidewalk, she began to walk faster.

“Hey there! What’s the rush?” Leaning on his rake, John Mote waved to her from his front yard. “Isn’t that boy walking yet?” he joked.

Delia liked both the Motes, and it made her sad to see the gold star along with the blue one in their window. Their son Chester had been killed earlier in the war, and their other one, Jack, was somewhere in Italy. She smiled and wheeled the baby closer. “I see she has you working today, and I must say, it’s about time.” Mrs. Mote was usually the one outside working in the yard. She said it soothed her mind.

“No rest for the weary,” he said, mopping his face. “Marjorie fell and broke her wrist the other day, and she’s had me hopping ever since.”

Delia was sorry to hear that as she was especially fond of Marjorie Mote. “What can we do to help? What about supper? Don’t tell me she has
you
cooking?”

He laughed. “The church circle’s taking good care of us in that category, but if you’re going near the library, you might pick her up a couple of books. Virginia knows what she likes.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Delia promised, and decided to go there first. The night before she had heard Charlie and her mother laughing in the kitchen as they made cheese bread for the Brumlows. They seemed to be having fun, and Delia had mentioned that maybe it was time she helped out more with meals. During the first few months she and Ned had been married she’d learned to prepare the basic foods, but was afraid to try anything too difficult or fancy. At the time, Ned was too in love to care, but you couldn’t live off hamburgers and canned peaches forever, and this morning after Charlie left for school, Delia had found the cookbook open to a recipe for gingerbread at her place at the table. Well, how hard could that be? And if it turned out good, she’d take some to the Motes.

*   *   *

“I don’t know what to do. What if I’m wrong?” Jo had stopped by her sister’s on her way back from visiting with Arden and, although she had thought twice before telling Lou what had been worrying her, the burden of it was more than she could bear alone.

“Maybe we should go to the police,” Lou suggested, tossing her apron aside.

“And what would we tell them, that we suspect Reynolds Murphy of lying about buying ice cream and that the person I saw running away ran like one of the bridesmaids in the womanless wedding? They’ll laugh me out of the building.”

“Then we’ll confront him together. I’ll go with you. What can he do in broad, open daylight right there in the middle of town?”

“No, wait. Let’s think.” Jo was beginning to regret sharing this with her impetuous sister. “This will keep a few hours longer. Jordan McGregor told Dimple Kilpatrick that Millie said she’d seen the person who put the rifle in Reynolds’s car the night of the follies but he didn’t say who it was. She might have been trying to blackmail that person, too.”

“Why didn’t he tell Miss Dimple who it was?” Lou wanted to know. “And have you thought it might have been Jordan himself? He has a limp due to an injury—
and
he was one of the bridesmaids, too.”

“From what I understand, Miss Dimple tried her best to pry that out of him, but he said he wanted to be sure before he made an accusation. Jordan knows very well Millie’s tales weren’t always true. Besides, he was at a meeting of the school board that night, wasn’t he?”