Miss Dimple and the Slightly Bewildered Angel (17 page)

“Walk where? You said the next town was about ten miles up the road.” Jo could taste salty tears inching down her throat.
Why in the world had she turned onto this road?

At first, she didn't notice her sister's insistent tapping on her shoulder. “Somebody's coming!” Lou whispered. “Somebody with a light.”

She was hardly five feet tall, with a head full of smoky blue curls that tumbled loosely over her forehead. The hem of her flowered smock touched the top of work boots much like the ones farmers around Elderberry wore to town on Saturdays, and a cloak that seemed to be stitched from a forest of leaves swung from her shoulders.

“My goodness,” the woman said, holding her lantern high. “Do come in out of this weather and get warm by the fire. There's bread baking, and the stew is almost done.”

Jo shook off her sister's grasp, as she was losing feeling in her hand. “But our car … we have to get back home.”

“Now, don't you worry. I'll have that taken care of, but first let's get the two of you warm and dry.”

“A telephone,” Lou gasped as they followed their peculiar hostess up a hill slick with pine needles and sodden leaves. “I have to call my husband.”
Damn the expense! What else was she supposed to do?”
But of course there was no telephone here. There was only lamplight and a welcoming wood fire on the hearth.

“We'll take care of that tomorrow.” The tiny woman threw off her cloak and her curls bounced when she walked. “You'll find warm beds in the next room, and our supper will be ready soon. You should be on your way home soon after daybreak.

“My name is Celeste, by the way, and I was told to expect you.”

“Who told—” Jo began.

“And that tree—” Lou chimed in. “What about our car?”

Celeste only smiled and waved her hand, as if shooing away a gnat. “Minor problems. Easily remedied.”

“Why do I feel like Hansel and Gretel?” Lou whispered as they washed their hands and faces in basins of warm fragrant water.

Her sister only smiled. “Don't you recognize our hostess? She's the lady in the flowered hat. Haven't you noticed, the whole house smells like peppermint?”

 

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

“Suppose they've had a wreck?”

“Or they might be lost. Some of those roads aren't well marked, you know.”

“It's those awful synthetic rubber tires! What if they had a blowout on some lonely country road?”

“And there're swamps down there, you know.…”

Phoebe Chadwick's breakfast table was in an uproar over the news that their emissaries, Lou and Jo, seemed to have disappeared, and although Dimple didn't join in, she felt largely responsible. Of course it wasn't her fault, but Augusta
had
assured her the two would be all right.

She turned to Augusta now and saw that she was calmly helping herself to a generous portion of grits. “Aren't you concerned at all?” she muttered, and was ashamed of herself for sounding so accusing. Almost ashamed.

Augusta smiled and added another biscuit to her plate. “Don't worry. They'll be fine. I'm sure Celeste—”

Dimple shoved back her chair. “Just who is this Celeste, and how could you possibly know that?”

Others at the table looked at the two in alarm. Why, it was almost unheard of for Dimple Kilpatrick to lose her temper. And my goodness, would you look at that? A hairpin hung precariously over one ear and her hands trembled as she picked up her plate.

Augusta buttered her biscuit and added a dollop of muscadine jelly.

Across the table, Phoebe tossed her napkin aside and jumped to her feet. This just wouldn't do. It broke her heart to see her dear friend in such a state. “Dimple,” she began, and then the telephone rang again.

Annie, who happened to be closer to the phone and quicker on her feet as well, reached it in two steps. When she hung up, she was smiling. “Well, listen to this wild tale! That was Charlie,” she explained. “Her mother just called from a little place called Hazelhurst, and said, like it or not, Chief Tinsley was going to have to pay for the call. A tree fell across the road yesterday, and then her car got stuck in the mud. They couldn't get away until early this morning.”

“They must've been miserable, and terrified as well,” Velma said. “Did they have to sleep in the car?”

“Believe it or not, some kind lady took them in. Charlie said her mother told her the food they were served was out of this world, and they both fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” Phoebe said. “How do I make reservations?”

“What luck she was there to help!” Lily said. “Who was she? Did they get her name?”

“I believe she said her name was Celeste,” Annie told her.

“Would anyone else like another cup of coffee?” Augusta asked.

*   *   *

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that Bobby Tinsley called to ask if he might come by for a few minutes, and of course everyone eagerly agreed as they wanted to know if he'd learned what took place during their friends' stay in Fieldcroft.

“Mainly, I wanted to touch base with you about your upcoming trip to Tennessee,” he began after everyone was seated in Phoebe's parlor. They had invited Augusta to join them, but she seemed to be in the middle of some endless tapestry she was working on and begged to be excused. “If it's something I need to know,” she said, “you can tell me about it later.”

And, as it turned out, it
was
something she needed to know, as it involved their intended trip. Dimple, feeling much like a remorseful child, had apologized for her overreaction at breakfast, but Augusta dismissed that by holding up one dainty pink palm like a stop sign.

“I should have explained,” she said.

Miss Dimple sighed. Now they were back where they started. “Explained what?” she asked. “How did you come to know Celeste and how did you know she would be in the right place at the right time?”

Augusta concentrated on her glittering stitches. “We've worked together several times before,” she said, not looking up. “And I was sure she would be there, because that's her job.”

And Dimple knew she could pursue the subject, just as she could pursue the meaning of life and other perplexing puzzles, but was relieved when Annie called to let her know the police chief was waiting in the parlor.

“Two things,” Bobby Tinsley said after everyone except for Augusta was seated. “First of all, we've learned, through Mrs. Carr's and her sister's efforts, that Dora Westbrook received several communications from South Carolina—Columbia, to be exact—before all this took place, but no one knows who sent them or where the letters are now.

“Also, Sergeant Cagle tells me they've confirmed that on the Friday she left there, Dora Westbrook boarded a bus to Macon. Apparently, she spent the night there and then bought a ticket to Elderberry the next day.”

Annie frowned. “She bought two different tickets to get here, but you found only the one stub in the bag she had with her.”

He nodded. “I suppose she threw the second one away upon arrival, but that's not important now. It would help if we could get in touch with whoever she stayed with in Macon. They might be able to tell us what she had in mind and why she came here to Elderberry.”

“Wouldn't her husband know if she knew someone in Macon?” Miss Dimple asked.

“She did attend college there. Leonard Westbrook said he met Dora there during her sophomore year at Wesleyan, and they were married soon afterward. It wasn't a formal wedding. No attendants. Just a justice of the peace. He can't remember the names of any of Dora's friends at school there.”

“Huh!” This from Velma. “Can't or won't?”

“How very sad,” Lily said, looking a bit droopy herself.

“Then we need to find out from her husband what Dora's name was before she married,” Annie suggested, “and look her up in the college annual. Maybe some of her classmates will be able to help.”

“What about her parents?” Phoebe asked.

“From what we've learned, it seems Dora's grandmother raised her and her sister.” Chief Tinsley inched his chair closer and clasped his hands in front of him. “And I believe there's an easier way to find that out. The sister's address is on the envelope we found in the bag Dora carried. Her name is Elaine Arnold, and I plan to telephone there today. If anyone can tell us about Dora's connections in Macon, it would be Elaine.” Smiling, he looked about. “Don't you agree?”

Of course they all did, and although Miss Dimple had already thought of phoning Dora's sister, she was too polite to interrupt him.

Growing serious, he added, “Mrs. Carr and her sister—who, by the way, arrived safely a short time ago—admitted they had a bit of a scare on their way home last night. A car was following much too closely and they couldn't seem to shake it. That was when they turned into a side road and became stuck in the mud.”

“Oh dear! Did the car go on by?” Lily asked, and the chief only nodded, because he didn't want to go into an explanation about a tree blocking the road and mysteriously disappearing the next morning, in spite of the sisters' conviction it had been hauled away.

Bobby Tinsley shifted in his seat. “If you're serious about making this trip to Tennessee, I want you to keep your eyes open. I'd feel better if we could send somebody along with you, but we can't. Keep in mind that we don't know anything about these people. I'm hoping they want as much, or even more than, we do to get to the bottom of what happened to this young woman.” He shrugged. “We'll just have to see,
so be careful
!”

“We will. I promise.” Annie's eyes gleamed. This was an adventure, and she was already packed and ready to go.

“It sounds to me, and to Reece Cagle down in Fieldcroft as well, that Dora was planning to meet somebody here in Elderberry, and I think it had something to do with the correspondence she received from Columbia.

“Now, I could ask her sister this when I call, but it would mean a lot more coming from you, face-to-face. Of course I plan to let her know some of you hope to speak with her. We'll try to keep it light, as I don't want to put her off or scare her. Just let her think you're in the area for the weekend and would like to drop by.”

“We can certainly do that,” Velma said, looking efficient and businesslike. “My car is gassed up and ready to go, and I'm sure we'll be able to find some decent motor courts along the way.”

“We'll help with your expenses as much as we can,” the chief said, standing, “and if you run into trouble, you know you can telephone from the local authorities there.
Just try not to get into trouble.
”

*   *   *

Dimple Kilpatrick watched the front door close behind him and sighed. “Do you really think it's necessary for me to go along? I could use this extra time to put my room in order and plan some art activities for Thanksgiving.”

But Velma was having none of it. “Dimple Kilpatrick, your room is in order as much as it needs to be, and what else can you possibly add for Thanksgiving? As far as I know, the Pilgrims still came over on the
Mayflower,
landed on Plymouth Rock, and celebrated the harvest with the Indians. You can't tell me that after all the years you've been teaching, you don't have that subject fairly well covered!”

Miss Dimple looked around for help, but nobody offered. “I usually give Virginia a hand with the Halloween party at the library,” she said. “It's this Saturday, you know, and there's always a lot to do.”

This was met with silence until Phoebe finally spoke up. “Which suitcase would you like for me to get down for you? That embroidered bag that was left here, or the tan suitcase with stripes?”

 

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

It was still dark when Jo awoke to the aroma of coffee and cinnamon. Or was it nutmeg? Beside her, her sister slept the sleep of the pure in heart, or the totally exhausted. Possibly the latter. Stepping onto a nubby rug—braided, if she remembered correctly—Jo felt for the clothing she'd left on a chair the night before and reluctantly slipped out of her warm flannel pajamas.
How were they ever going to get out of the mud and find their way back to the road?

“Wake up, Lou,” she whispered. “We've got to find some way to free the car and get home.”

Lou didn't respond except to curl into a catlike ball. And why am I whispering? Jo thought. Of the three of them here, her sister was the only one sleeping.

“LOUISE!” Jo gave the covers a jerk. “Get up! We have to find a way to let everyone at home know we're all right, and we're going to need help getting back on the road.”

“Uh!” Lou sat up, hugged herself, and rubbed her eyes. “Oh dear!” she mumbled. “Ed … Good heavens, Jo! Ed will think we're both dead.”

Jo thought of her daughters, Charlie and Delia, and the toddler grandson they called Pooh, who shared her home. They would all be frantic with worry, or at least her daughters would, and Pooh would miss her if she didn't come back, and wonder where she was. Now she was getting teary.

Stop it, Josephine Carr!
She unrolled stockings over her legs and knelt to find her shoes. It was beginning to be light now. Maybe they would be able to see well enough to finally get her car out of the mud.

Their hostess, again in boots and flowered smock, and wearing a large white apron, stirred something in a big pot on the woodstove. “I hope you like oatmeal,” she said.

Oatmeal would be just fine, they agreed, but it tasted like no oatmeal they'd ever eaten. Sprinkled with brown sugar and dotted with plump raisins and bits of apple, it reminded Lou of the kind they'd had at their grandmother's house as children, only better. Jo must have felt the same, as she ate two bowlfuls.