Miss Dimple Disappears (11 page)

“Uncle Ed drilling with the Home Guard tonight?” Charlie asked her aunt in an effort to divert her mother from the warpath. God help them if the two sisters became involved.

“Lord, yes, if his feet don’t give out on him first.” Lou picked up the brown earthenware pot and added steaming tea to her cup.

Charlie had been happy to find her aunt in the kitchen drinking tea with her mother when she got home that afternoon. Lou’s husband, like many other men who were either too young or too old to serve in the military, belonged to the Georgia Home Guard, so he wouldn’t eat until after their drill that night, and Aunt Lou would be joining them for supper—which meant she probably would be cooking it as well. Now her aunt relaxed, with her stocking feet propped in a chair by the open oven door. The two women had walked the short distance from town after their bus ride from Milledgeville and both appeared tired after their shift at the ordnance plant.

“Remember it was just last Monday we had that air-raid drill,” her aunt added, “and Ed had to run all over creation to see if anybody showed a sliver of light. Ridiculous for a man his age! But let that man put on a helmet and an armband and he thinks he’s God Almighty!”

“Louise!” Jo protested. “For heaven’s sake, he’s just doing his job.”

“Well, he could start by fixing that porch railing that’s been loose since last spring,” her sister said. “Thank goodness he’s been assigned a shorter route now that Hiram Hopkins had that fall and can’t get around. I understand the Greeson boy—that pale little fellow who works for Harris Cooper—will cover Ed’s territory.”

“Jesse Dean?” Charlie took eggs and cheese from the Frigidaire. “I’m glad they’re giving him something that will let him contribute to the war effort. He’s had to put up with a lot of harassment.”

Jo snorted. “That crazy woman who raised him is responsible for a lot of that. His mother died giving birth to him, you know, and his father took off for who knows where. The grandmother brought him up. Put him in dresses until he was three years old!” She turned to her sister. “You remember old Addie Montgomery, don’t you? Died when the boy was about twelve or thirteen and a cousin took him in.” She shook her head. “Of course by that time it was too late.”

“Maybe not,” Charlie said, and hoped it was so.

Aunt Lou set eggs aside and began to grate the cheese onto a plate. “I don’t know what Ed will use for an excuse once this war’s over. Sure doesn’t look like that railing’s going to be fixed anytime soon. Looks like I’m gonna have to ask Ollie Thigpen to take care of it.”

In spite of her caustic remarks, Charlie knew her aunt adored her husband and worried about his health. The couple had no children, only each other, and as one of the town’s two dentists, he stood on his feet most of the day.

*   *   *

Silence lay like a pall as the three went about preparing their simple meal, and Charlie sensed her aunt was dying to ask if they had heard from Fain. Of course, Aunt Lou knew good and well they would’ve shared any news if they had any. War made everyone antsy and brought out emotions as sensitive as a toothache. She had seen her mother caress her brother’s photograph, running her fingers along the outline of his face; seen her stand in the door of his room with a look in her eyes that would wring out your heart like a dishrag.

She lined up slices of bread on a pan and shoved it under the broiler for toast. “We heard from Delia today,” she said. “She says the baby’s a real kicker. Ned thinks it’s going to be a boy.”

Her aunt made a mock sad face. “Then I guess they won’t be naming it Louise.”

Jo Carr set the table with the daisy spattered dishes she had collected from boxes of laundry detergent and a sudden smile transformed her face. “I don’t care if it’s Louie or Louise,” she said, scattering silverware at each place. “I just want to hold it and sing to it, rock it the way I did my own. I do wish she could come home for the delivery.”

Charlie knew from the impish look on her aunt’s face that she was going to start down a path she’d rather not go. And she was right.

“From what I hear, things are heating up between you and Hugh Brumlow,” she said, addressing Charlie, “so it looks like Delia might soon have some competition in the marriage department.” She paused, smiling. “A candlelight dinner at Rusty’s sounds mighty romantic to me, and I suppose he’ll be leaving for the service soon. Has he proposed yet?”

Charlie made a face. She dearly loved her aunt, but if they gave awards for being nosy, Aunt Lou would have to add a room to hold them all. “If he does, you’ll be the first to know,” she told her.

“Make that the second,” her mother said. “And it could happen yet. They’re going on a picnic Sunday.”

“Would you two
please
drop it? For heaven’s sake, let’s talk about something else!” Charlie took the toast from under the broiler and spread the browned slices with margarine. She wasn’t ready to face that subject, and the thought of Hugh leaving for Virginia made her suddenly want to cry.

*   *   *

“Didn’t you tell me Miss Dimple has a brother?” Lou asked Charlie after they finished a hasty supper of rarebit on toast and applesauce. “I don’t know his financial circumstances, but if he’s wealthy it might be possible somebody’s holding his sister for ransom.”

“I haven’t heard if her brother has money or not, but they finally located him somewhere near Marietta, and he hasn’t heard from her, either,” Charlie told her. “And I’m not sure if this has anything to do with it, but today while we were all in assembly, somebody pried open Miss Dimple’s desk drawer.”

“Ye gods and little fishes!” her mother exclaimed. “What could they be looking for in there?”

“You mean somebody just walked right into the building?” her aunt Lou asked. “Did they take anything?”

“Nothing that anyone could tell.” Charlie told them about Geneva’s screwdriver and the missing key. “Bobby Tinsley was there all afternoon asking questions but none of us could imagine what anybody would be looking for. Now Froggie’s having the lock changed on Miss Dimple’s door.”

Jo groaned in irritation. “And I don’t suppose they have the least idea who might be responsible.”

Charlie cleared the dishes away and stacked them in the sink. “They’ve already hired a new teacher to take Miss Dimple’s place,” she said. “Woman named Cornelia Emerson. She’s supposed to start Monday.”

Her mother shook her head. “This quickly? Where in the world did they find her?” She sighed. “I can’t imagine anybody taking Dimple Kilpatrick’s place.”

“Nobody can,” Charlie added sadly. “And guess who started working as our new custodian today? Bessie’s boyfriend, Ollie! If you want him to fix your porch railing, Aunt Lou, you might have to wait a while.”

Her aunt’s eyes widened. “
Ollie Thigpen
? You don’t suppose he—”

Charlie shook her head. “Ollie has his own key to all the rooms, so why would he take Geneva’s? Besides, he was in the auditorium with the rest of us during assembly.”

“I guess there’s not a whole lot to do out on the Kiker farm now with winter coming on, so this should give him a chance to earn some extra money,” her aunt said.

Jo laughed. “Maybe he’ll buy a car and learn to drive. Take Bessie out somewhere nice for dinner. Lord knows she’s earned it with all the meals she’s fed that man!”

“I don’t know. I think he might have the right idea about that bicycle,” Lou said. “I’ve thought of getting one myself since gas is so hard to come by.”

Charlie tried not to visualize that.

Jo filled the kettle to heat water for the dishes. “I don’t think old Paschall will be doing much farming anyway. Looked awfully frail the last time I saw him. Jesse Dean’s been delivering their groceries from Cooper’s.”

“Well, Ollie didn’t come a minute too soon for me!” Charlie said. “This morning the building was warm as toast, and he was mopping the front hall when we left this afternoon.” She tied an apron around her middle and added soap to the dishpan. “Everybody was crazy about Christmas Malone but spit and polish wasn’t his strong suit.”

“Still, it seems obvious to me that
something’s
going on over there.” Her mother frowned. “What do you all know about this man who rooms at Phoebe’s? He hasn’t been there very long, has he? Wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on that one.”

“Elwin Vickery?”
Charlie laughed. “I believe he moved into Phoebe’s just before school started, and he’s always seemed fond of Miss Dimple. The man wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Lou, who had been swirling a soapy dishrag over the blue-and-white oilcloth table cover, looked up and frowned. “That’s exactly what they want us to think,” she said.

Charlie grinned. “They? They who?”

“The enemy,” her aunt said.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

It was here. He was really leaving. Thanksgiving would come, and then Christmas, and Hugh wouldn’t be here to sit by the fire after dinner and eat sweet potato pie with a thin slice of watermelon rind preserves on top like only Aunt Lou could make it. Who would go caroling with her and kiss her under the mistletoe? Who would help her find the perfect cedar tree on what was left of the family farm? Charlie swallowed hard and was certain he could hear her. Her mouth felt so dry her lips stuck together.

T
hey drove down familiar streets past the yellow Victorian house on the corner, where years ago she and Delia had picked daisies from the neighbor’s yard and sold them back to her for a nickel a bunch. There was the stone arch at the edge of town, the bright blue water tower. Things she loved. Things Hugh loved, and soon he would be leaving all this behind and facing a dangerous and unfamiliar world.

C
harlie clutched the cold quart jar of potato salad her aunt had made as if it were a cherished treasure. It’s a normal day, she told herself. Act as if it’s just a day like any other with many picnics to follow.

*   *   *

It was the Sunday afternoon before Hugh was to leave and they were on their way to picnic at Turtle Rock a few miles outside of town. Charlie struggled to speak in a light voice. “I’m going to have to keep a close eye on Mama and Aunt Lou,” she said finally. “They’re suspecting practically half the town of snatching away Miss Dimple. It wouldn’t surprise me if the two of them didn’t take matters into their own hands and go sleuthing.”

Hugh laughed and reached for her hand, covering it with his own. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I know them, and they don’t have enough patience between them to fill a thimble. Nobody, it seems, can do anything fast enough to suit them. If Aunt Lou weren’t too old and too … well … out of shape, she probably would’ve joined the WAACS the day after Pearl Harbor.”

A cat streaked across the road in front of them and Hugh braked to avoid it. Charlie was glad it wasn’t black. “And who do they suspect?” he asked.

“Elwin Vickery, for one. Poor man! I don’t know when they think he’d have time to do it … and where would he take her?”

To Charlie’s surprise, Hugh didn’t laugh, but kept his eyes on the road in front of them. “He does own some land, you know. It used to have a house on it but I haven’t been there for a while, so it might not be there anymore.”

“Where? And what would Elwin Vickery want with land?”

“Off the Covington Highway, not too far from here. He bought it for an investment, I guess. Rents out the pasture to somebody else.”

Charlie studied his face. “Are you making that up? How do you know all this?”

Hugh laughed. “Because my uncle Martin sold it to him back in the spring. We used to go out there every fall to pick cotton … and wade in the creek. Mostly wade in the creek, but he always gave us fifty cents anyway.”

“Still, I can’t see him kidnapping Miss Dimple. Besides, I think he has a crush on her,” Charlie said.

“You see! You have your motive already.” Hugh smiled when he said it, but the image of Miss Dimple being held prisoner in an abandoned farmhouse did occur to her, however fleetingly. Elwin Vickery worked alone, selling insurance in a small office above the jewelry store in the middle of town, and he had a perfect reason to make sales calls that took him all over the county and beyond.

Charlie was beginning to wish she’d never mentioned it to Hugh when he brought up the subject again. “Who else?” he wanted to know.

“Who else what?”

“Who else do they think might have made off with Miss Dimple?”

“The milkman, of course. Amos Schuler. Really, Hugh, you need to bone up on your detective skills. He’s always out at an early hour like Miss Dimple, and he has a grouchy expression on his face.”

“I’d be grouchy, too, if I had to get up before dawn and milk all those cows.” Hugh made a face. “Of course, it won’t be long before I’ll be rising with the sun as well.”

Charlie didn’t want to talk about that.

“And then there was that problem with his son,” Hugh added. “Boyd. A year ahead of me in school. Bad news, that one—got into some kind of trouble in Atlanta. Woman said he sexually assaulted her, and he was convicted and sent to prison. Claimed he didn’t do it, of course.”

Charlie frowned. How terrible it would be if he really didn’t! No wonder the milkman never smiled.

“Looks like I’ll be missing all the excitement,” Hugh said. “With any luck, your mother and Aunt Lou will have all those problems solved by the time I finish my training in Virginia.”

“Well, if they don’t, Willie Elrod will.” Charlie told him about her student’s recent preoccupation with trailing ‘spies.’ “I ran into his mother at church this morning and she said he’d taken every one of her aluminum pots to the salvage drive. She had to go down there and reclaim a few so she could cook supper!”

The sun had come out after several days of rain, and now in the afternoon, the temperature had climbed into the sixties, unusual for mid-November. It was almost as if Mother Nature were blessing them with a farewell gift before Hugh left for his training. The fried chicken Hugh’s sister Arden prepared for their picnic filled the car with its tantalizing smell, and, when she learned of their plans, Aunt Louise had insisted on contributing potato salad.