Miss Dimple Disappears (18 page)

Miss Dimple fluttered her eyelids and allowed a low moan to escape her pale, dry lips. She had no intention of starving. She had saved an apple from an earlier meal, dry cereal from her breakfast the day before, and a slice of buttered bread from last night’s supper, and stored them in a fruit jar beneath the underwear in her dresser drawer.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I were contagious,” she croaked. “Weakness … loss of appetite … you’ll know when it happens to you.”

She heard his impatient intake of breath as he turned away, heard him pace to the stairs; she counted his steps as he moved to the outside wall where the small high windows let in cobweb-filtered light, then back to the table where he’d left the tray. “Then tell me what you want and I’ll try to get it,” he said through his teeth, and Dimple Kilpatrick knew by her captor’s tone of voice that if he didn’t need her alive, he would gladly lock her away in this dank room with no hope of ever being found.

Sitting on the side of her bed, she took paper and pen from her handbag to make a list of some of the ingredients she used in her muffins, hoping that the person who held her hostage wasn’t aware that Dimple Kilpatrick was identified by her Victory Muffins almost as closely as Wimpy in the Popeye comic strip was famed for his love of hamburgers.

She gave him the list when she finished and watched him while he read it.

“Soy flour!” he exclaimed. “Where in the world do I find that?” He mumbled as he read: “Whole grain cereal, light molasses, raisins, whole wheat flour, honey, dried figs … 
dried figs?
Are you being serious?”

Miss Dimple nodded solemnly. “I most certainly am. You’ll not find a better aid for digestion, and I can tell by the way you walk you’re not eating the right kind of foods. It’s in the slope of your shoulders. I had a cousin who walked like you do. Planned to be a doctor …” She shook her head. “Such a shame!”

“I don’t care about your blasted cousin—” he began.

“Of course if Mr. Cooper doesn’t have the figs, I’ve sometimes substituted dried apples. And a dash of cinnamon if you have it,” she said, ignoring him. “Oh, and don’t forget the tray!” she added as he turned to leave.

When he’d brought her breakfast of lumpy oatmeal that morning she’d made a point of thanking him for remembering her tea. It wasn’t ginger mint but it was hot and it was good. She wondered where he’d gotten it. Now, Miss Dimple sat in her chair near the gas heater counting the colored rings in the braided rug at her feet: blue, red, green, yellow, purple, and then blue again. Is this what she had come to? She closed her eyes and recited aloud the whole of “Thanatopsis,” by William Cullen Bryant, a poem about death she’d had to learn in school. Miss Dimple shuddered. Death? What on earth was she thinking? There must be
some
way to call attention to her plight, and taking a careful inventory of the room, she was struck with an idea. It might not work, but one had to try.

*   *   *

“You’re back!” Charlie met Geneva with a hug in the hallway. “I didn’t think you’d be here until Monday.”

Geneva rubbed her head. “Well, the lump’s going down, so now I just have half a headache.”

Charlie gently touched the tender knot. “Wow! That must’ve been some limb that fell.”

“Fell, nothing!” Geneva muttered. “Whatever hit me had some elbow grease behind it.”

After their janitor’s death and Miss Dimple’s disappearance, Charlie thought she was prepared for just about anything, but she gasped in spite of herself. “Did you have a chance to see who it might’ve been?”

Geneva unlocked the door of her room and unloaded a stack of papers onto her desk. “I thought I saw somebody moving under that big magnolia—the one to the right of the bridge—but it was too late to turn and run.” She shrugged. “I just walked a little faster and hoped it was the wind or Sam playing a trick—and then I heard footsteps behind me.”

Charlie frowned. “But why? Did they take anything? Say anything?”

“Nary a mumblin’ word. Must’ve been the strong, silent type.” Geneva managed a slight grin. “Well, strong at least, and I didn’t have my purse with me, so if he was after money, he was out of luck.”

“I suppose you’ve told Bobby Tinsley about this.”

“Uh-huh.” Geneva nodded. “But I could tell he didn’t believe me. There was a place right over the pathway where a limb had broken earlier, and maybe that
was
what hit me, only somebody used it to knock me into next week! I know the police have their hands full dealing with what happened to Miss Dimple, but Bobby as much as told me I’d have to get in line.”

*   *   *

“I just can’t imagine
why,
and I haven’t even gotten around to wondering
who,
” Annie said when Charlie told her about her conversation with Geneva.

It was morning recess and Charlie stood at the top of the back steps watching Lee Anne Stephens jump rope at “hot pepper” forty-six times before she missed. “I think whoever hit her did it to keep her from seeing something,” she said.

“Or someone,” Annie added. “Do you think it could’ve been somebody she knew?”

“Anybody’s my guess,” Charlie said. “What about Elwin? He lives in the same house as you. Any idea where he was at about that time Wednesday night?”

Annie laughed. “Miss Phoebe doesn’t require us to sign in,” she reminded her, “but several of us did start a game of Monopoly after supper. I remember Velma asking Elwin if he wanted to play but he said he had a letter to mail and wanted to get it to the post office so it would go out the next morning.”

“Do you remember what time he left?”

“It was already dark but he didn’t take his car. Said he didn’t want to waste the gas and needed the exercise,” Annie said.

Charlie thought for a minute. “I wish we knew more about him. There’s something kind of secretive about Elwin. He never talks about where he came from or where he lived before now … there must be some way we could find out …”

“Oh, no, you don’t! I know what you’re thinking, Charlie Carr, so don’t even look my way!”

“Did I say anything?” Charlie pretended innocence. “But it would only take a minute to slip into his room while he’s out. We might find
something
we could go on.”

“
We
? You mean
me,
don’t you? And just what do you expect to find? I wish you’d leave poor Aunt Mildred alone! If Elwin Vickery is an enemy spy, he sure has a darn good cover … and what am I supposed to do if he walks in?”

“That’s where I come in,” Charlie said. “I’ll stand guard in the hall and—

“Marshall Dodd, don’t you even think about throwing that rock! Put it down this minute!

“Naturally we’d have to wait until everybody’s busy doing something else,” she continued.

Annie shook her head. “What about Jesse Dean? Didn’t you tell me your neighbor said he’d been prowling around her house after dark? And surely you haven’t given up on Amos Schuler.”

“Jesse Dean has an excuse. He’s taken Uncle Ed’s route as an air-raid warden and was just checking out the territory.”

“So he says.” Annie rolled her eyes.

“And I think Mama and Aunt Lou have put the fear of God into Amos—for a while at least.” Charlie laughed, remembering. “After they trailed him all the way to the end of nowhere, if he really is up to something, you’d think he’d be afraid to try anything right away.”

The bell rang just then and the children scurried to be first in line.

“Well, whatever we do will have to wait until tomorrow,” Annie said, clapping her hands for order. “Stop that shoving, Pricilla Jean!

“I intend to spend what little free time we have today getting ready for our Thanksgiving party for the troops, but for now, ‘I go, and it is done—the bell invites me,’ ” she added with a flair.

*   *   *

“Well, hi there, sugar! Are you rationed?” The young soldier looked as if he had barely started to shave and stood almost a foot shorter than Charlie. “I’m not today,” she said, and smiling, took his arm and led him to the punch table. His name was Paul and he was from a little town in Nebraska. Charlie danced with him to Dinah Shore’s “Blues in the Night” and part of Glenn Miller’s “At Last” before a tall red-haired soldier from Tennessee cut in. Alvin, she quickly learned, played basketball in high school, had an aunt who once met Eleanor Roosevelt, and apparently never tired of dancing. After the fourth number, Charlie begged for a break and passed him along to Annie. “Here’s somebody who likes to dance as much as you do,” she said as the two whirled onto the floor to “The Jersey Bounce.” After two cups of punch and an exchange of addresses with a serious young GI from Oklahoma, Charlie searched for the two on the dance floor but Alvin was dancing cheek to cheek with Loretta Scoggins, who clerked at the drugstore and Annie was deep in conversation with a dark-haired lieutenant who couldn’t seem to take his eyes from her face.

“Well, hi-de-ho! What’s buzzin’, cousin?” Charlie allowed herself to be led onto the floor by Skipper, an amiable sort from Kentucky who had dropped out of his junior year in college to enlist in the army. In the following hour, she danced with a “Biscuit,” a “Skeeter,” and a “June Bug.” She discussed movies with “Topeka Tom,” and with “Doc,” the pre-med student with earnest face and ready smile, talked of all the places they’d never been but would someday like to visit. Like personal trophies, their names had been earned and were as much a part of them as the color of their eyes, the way their ears stuck out or their hair grew. Labels of love, the nicknames had been given to them by the friends and family who knew them best and wanted them safely home.

During a quiet moment Charlie shared family photographs with a young father who had left a wife and two small children in a small Ohio town, and listened as he told her of his toddler son’s first words and his daughter’s first-grade accomplishments. “My wife’s parents live just a few blocks away,” he added, in an obvious attempt to be positive, “so I know they’ll be in good hands. I just wish I could be there for Christmas.” The soldier turned away, his voice thick with emotion, and Charlie was at a loss to comfort him.

“I hope by next Christmas you’ll all be home,” she said softly.

He put the pictures back in his wallet and nodded. “They know I had to go,” he said, and smiled. “Something sure smells good. I could eat a bear!”

Charlie laughed. “I hate to disappoint you but we’re having turkey.”

She looked for Annie and saw her still with the dark-haired officer dancing to Frank Sinatra’s “Night and Day.” Annie’s partner was so tall the top of her head barely came to his shoulder but she didn’t seem to mind. When Emmaline barked that it was time to find a seat for dinner, the two didn’t even seem to notice when the music stopped.

Annie introduced him as they moved through the serving line. He was a Georgia boy named Frazier Duncan and had earned his engineering degree from Georgia Tech. Charlie found herself sitting between Doc and Skeeter during the meal, and wasn’t surprised when Frazier found a place beside Annie.

When the dinner was over, somebody put on Bing Crosby’s new record of “White Christmas” and those who knew the words joined in. After exchanging thanks, good-byes and a lot of addresses, the men filed out to board the train for Columbus and Fort Benning.

“What are you smiling about?” Annie asked as they helped return serving dishes to their rightful owners and folded tables to put the room back in order.

“I’ll have you know I’m the cat’s meow,” Charlie informed her. “At least that’s what I was told.”

“Well don’t flip your wig,” Annie told her. “According to Alvin from Tennessee, not only am I a killer-diller but I’m cooking with gas.”

“Is that good?” Charlie stood on a chair to take down a banner.

“I’d like to think so,” Annie said, laughing, but her smile faded as she picked up a poster promoting the sale of war bonds that had fallen to the floor. On it a young soldier with a bandaged head asked,
DOING ALL YOU CAN, BROTHER
?

*   *   *

When they finally finished cleaning up, Charlie went through the slips of paper she had tucked into her purse. “I must have five addresses here. Hope I can keep up with them.” She glanced at Annie. “And how many did you collect?”

Annie grinned. “Just one.”

“I think I can guess who that would be. You two really seemed to hit it off. What’s Will going to say?”

Annie shrugged. “Will and I aren’t exactly serious, you know. Besides, Frazier was our guest. I was just being a good hostess.”

“You certainly were!” Charlie laughed. “I don’t think the two of you even noticed anybody else in the room.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! I doubt if I’ll ever hear from him,” Annie said, flushing.

It was dark as they walked home together and Charlie turned up her collar against the chill in the air. She was tired, but it had been a successful party and everyone seemed to have a good time. As she and Annie parted at Miss Phoebe’s it occurred to her that they had spent an entire evening without once mentioning Miss Dimple’s disappearance.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

Jesse Dean brushed his hair as soon as the siren sounded. Although he would be wearing a helmet, he felt he should be as properly groomed as the servicemen he saw passing through. He wished air-raid wardens were required to wear uniforms, but at least the helmet and arm band gave him some distinction. He looked in the mirror once more to be sure his “smile could pass the test” as the advertisements for Ipana Toothpaste warned. Surely the colored striped toothpaste was the best deterrent to the dreaded “pink” that seemed to terrify the curly haired lady in the magazine ads. He hurriedly screwed the top back on the plastic tube, remembering when not too long ago toothpaste—and many other things—had come in metal containers. You couldn’t buy anything made of metal now, or rubber. Tires were made of synthetic material prone to punctures and blowouts, and even pencil erasers made ugly black marks on the paper.