Miss Dimple Suspects (21 page)

“You’re right,” Miss Dimple said. “They might know something we don’t, and frankly, I’d be glad of their assistance.”

Virginia nodded. “I agree. Christmas is almost upon us, and the longer this drags on, the less chance we have of finding out who’s responsible for all this grief. It stands to reason that whoever took the paintings is the one who killed Mrs. Hawthorne, and probably that fellow, Bill, as well.”

“Which means we’ll have to find the paintings,” Annie said. “So, where do we start?”

*   *   *

“I can tell you where
not
to look,” Louise Willingham told them when they stopped by her house later that day. “You won’t find them in the Curtises’ barn!” And she told them about their narrow escape. “Esau Ingram and his wife must’ve been asked to feed the cat and chickens while the Curtises were out of town and unfortunately, we happened to show up at the same time.”

Charlie frowned. “Are you sure they didn’t see you?”

Her aunt gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I haven’t been sure of anything since that awful day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and turned our lives upside down, but I don’t believe they saw us.”

“Did you notice any other outbuildings where the paintings might’ve been stored?” Miss Dimple asked, and Lou thought for a minute. “Well … there was a garage, and the chicken house, but I can’t imagine them being stored there. And it seems there might’ve been a woodshed or something like that.”

“How do we know they aren’t being kept in someone’s house?” Annie said.

Charlie shrugged. “We don’t, but I don’t want to be arrested for breaking and entering. Besides, from what Isaac said, quite a few are missing. I’d think they’d need a lot of space.”

“It shouldn’t take long to check out the woodshed,” Dimple said, “but I really don’t believe Harriet and Stanley Curtis had anything to do with taking those paintings. Mae Martha trusted them enough to ask them to keep some of her artwork in their church, but still…”

“Still, what, Dimple?” Virginia asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing—nothing worth worrying about. First, I think we should see what we can find on the nephews’ properties and, of course, there’s the woman who sold milk and eggs.”

Lou, who had been hemming a dress she was making for Delia’s Christmas present, set her sewing aside. “I haven’t heard about her. What makes you think she had anything to do with all this?”

A warning glance from Virginia alerted Dimple she had probably shared more than was wise. “Mrs. Hawthorne happened to mention her when I was there,” she explained quickly. “She’s one of the few neighbors who live nearby—close enough for Suzy to walk there and collect what they needed from the springhouse.”

“It doesn’t seem likely either of the nephews would be bold enough to try to conceal those paintings on their property,” Virginia said. “They must be visiting back and forth all the time and it would be taking quite a risk, don’t you think?”

Dimple admitted that was true, but it was also a risk to take someone’s life. “We must be very, very careful,” she reminded them, setting aside the cup of tea Lou had served. “I learned today from Doctor Morrison that the man Charlie found in the creek, was indeed drowned, murdered. I fear we’ve been staring evil in the face.”

“But whose face?” Annie asked.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

“We can’t go prowling around somebody’s property in broad open daylight,” Charlie said.

“Well, your mother and I are both working at the ordnance plant tomorrow, so we won’t be able to prowl anyway,” her aunt said.

Virginia smiled. “I thought you might take a few days off around the holidays,” she said, but Lou Willingham shook her head. “War doesn’t take a holiday,” she said. “I wish it would, but we do have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”

“Now that we know about what time Esau and his wife feed the Curtises’ animals, we might be able to examine their place in the morning if we do it quickly,” Miss Dimple suggested.

“And if we’re caught, it might be a good idea to pretend we’re calling on the bereaved,” Annie said. “We could bring a jar of jam or something.”

“We’ve already been there once,” Charlie reminded her, thinking selfishly about the two remaining jars of peach preserves on the pantry shelf.

“But we didn’t
bring
anything, and we don’t have to give it to them unless they show up,” Annie insisted.

Lou laughed. “Don’t worry. I can spare a jar of chow-chow.”

“What about the other nephew—the blacksmith?” Virginia asked.

“He has plenty of places out there to store paintings or anything else,” Charlie told her, remembering the buildings scattered about, “but why would he call attention to the paintings being missing if he took them himself?”

Dimple polished her glasses with a purple-bordered hankie. “I imagine he has a list of them. And his brother probably has one, too. Even if he doesn’t, surely he and his wife would know Isaac was keeping an account.”

Lou bit off a thread and folded the finished skirt. “But wouldn’t the two of them inherit anyway?”

Dimple dared not look at the others. “That’s something we don’t know for sure,” she said.

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that Japanese woman wasn’t hiding out there,” Lou informed them as they started to leave. “She has to be somewhere, and she’s probably already killed once—maybe twice. Promise me you’ll be careful now—please!”

*   *   *

“Oh, dear!” Miss Dimple sighed as they walked down Katherine Street for home. “This is getting most complicated. It bothers me so when people assume Suzy is responsible.”

“What if you had to put up with Emmaline Brumlow?” Virginia said. “She keeps putting up those silly signs at the library and I keep taking them down.” She laughed. “Now she thinks Suzy herself is sneaking around under cover of darkness to dispose of them.”

“Poor Suzy! What a dilemma!” Miss Dimple slowed her pace to match the others. “We couldn’t mention Mrs. Hawthorne’s leaving her estate to the university as we aren’t supposed to know that.”

Charlie paused to relieve Virginia of some of her groceries. “Do you want to check out Esau’s place tomorrow? Aunt Lou said she thought they fed the Curtises’ chickens about mid-morning.”

“I’m ready with the chow-chow just in case,” Annie said, holding up the jar Lou had given them.

“I think we’d better take advantage of the situation,” Miss Dimple advised as they waited for the light at the corner. “I’ll take care of the gas if you’ll drive,” she said to Charlie.

*   *   *

“Wouldn’t you know it would be raining?” Charlie grumbled the next morning when she stopped for the others at Phoebe Chadwick’s. Virginia was working at the library and couldn’t accompany them.

“It’s not supposed to last, or at least that’s what they said on the radio this morning.” Miss Dimple placed her umbrella on the floorboard beside her. “When we were there earlier I noticed a place a short distance from the Curtises’ where we might watch unobserved. As soon as the Ingrams arrive to feed the animals, it should be safe to take a quick look at their property.”

Annie shivered and tugged a jaunty red beret over her ears. “Maybe it will stop raining by then. I think it’s turning colder.”

“Some detectives we are!” Charlie said as they drove through the outskirts of town. “We’re bound to leave footprints all over the place.”

The parking spot Miss Dimple had suggested was sheltered from the road by underbrush and pines but they found if they leaned in just the right direction they were able to see the Curtises’ driveway through the trees.

“I think my foot’s asleep,” Charlie said after they had been there awhile. “Seems like they should’ve been here by now.”

“Let’s give it a bit longer,” Miss Dimple suggested. “Look. I believe the rain’s clearing up.”

“Ah! ‘What light through yonder window breaks!’” Annie quoted as the sun suddenly came through the clouds. “And it looks like that car’s slowing … it’s turning in at the Curtises’! Is that the Ingrams’ truck?”

The three waited until they saw two figures emerge and walk toward the back before they felt it was safe to proceed, and Charlie drove carefully to Esau Ingram’s farm over the narrow two lane road, now slick with red mud.

Turning into the graveled drive, Charlie froze as a large dog raced out to greet them, barking nonstop. “Oh, lordy! I hope he’s had breakfast,” she said.

“But not dessert!” Annie laughed, but she didn’t try to get out of the car.

Dimple Kilpatrick had no such qualms. “He’s a nice boy,” she said in a calming voice, and held out a hand for the dog to sniff. “He knows we aren’t going to hurt him, don’t you, fella?”

Still, Charlie gripped the steering wheel. “But does he know we plan to snoop around with ill intent?”

“It’s only ill if we find the paintings,” Dimple told her. “Now, come on, you two. We don’t have time to dawdle. See, he’s wagging his tail.”

No one came to the door when they gave it a cursory knock, although Annie had remembered to bring along the chow-chow just in case. Setting it aside, she followed the others to look at the outbuildings. The dog, befriended by Miss Dimple, trotted happily along beside them.

Aside from the usual farm equipment, the small barn sheltered a mule, a couple of hogs, and several cats, but no paintings, and hens frittered away their time in the fenced chicken yard nearby. The ruling rooster pranced and huffed about to let everyone know he was in charge, and Charlie paused at the henhouse door. “Do you really think they would hide paintings in here?” she asked, holding her nose, and to her relief the others agreed that would be unlikely.

The only other buildings were a toolshed and smokehouse, the latter, empty of everything but hams suspended from the ceiling. Charlie inhaled deeply and reluctantly shut the door, thinking of the delectable prospect of a country ham breakfast with grits and red-eye gravy.

In the toolshed they discovered only the things you might expect to find there. A lean-to on the other side sheltered the family’s supply of firewood from the elements. “You’d think they would have locks on the doors if something valuable is stored inside,” Annie said finally. “Unless the paintings are in the house, it looks like we’re wasting our time here.”

“I believe you may be right,” Miss Dimple said, and began picking her way back across the muddied property using her furled umbrella for balance. They had almost reached the place where they had left the car when Esau Ingram’s faded blue truck turned into the driveway.

Annie, who was in the lead, froze in her tracks. “Oh, no! Is it too late to hide? We could make a dash for the woodshed.”

“Nonsense!” Miss Dimple raised her hand in greeting, noting the dog had already alerted his owners of their uninvited visitors. “Just try to appear calm. After all, we haven’t done anything wrong.

“Ah, so there you are!” she called, hurrying to meet the couple as they climbed out of the truck. “We thought we might find you out in the barn and were so afraid we’d missed you.” Smiling, Miss Dimple extended her hand and reintroduced all of them. “My friends and I have been sent on a mission to round up a few eggs, and we were hoping you might have some to spare. It’s so difficult to find things now with all this wartime rationing.”

Charlie and Annie nodded in agreement, muttering something about running out of eggs for their Christmas baking.

“We plan to pay you, of course,” Miss Dimple continued, stooping to pet the dog.

Coralee shook her head. “I wish I could help you, but our hens have been off a bit lately and I’m afraid I’ll need the few I collected this morning.” She darted a look at her husband and lowered her voice. “My Esau does love my cake!”

Dimple, remembering Mae Martha’s comments on the woman’s culinary efforts, restrained a knowing smile. “I understand,” she said, turning to go. “And I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you.”

“You might try Rebecca Wyatt down the road,” Esau told them. “She sometimes has extra to sell.” He paused to scratch his head. “She’s kinda peculiar, though. Never can tell if she’ll take to you or not.”

“I guess we’ll
have
to go there now,” Charlie said once they were back in the car.

“We’d better ask her if she’ll sell us some eggs,” Annie said, “in case Coralee or Esau mentions it.”

“A few extra eggs always come in handy, and we wanted to see that place anyway,” Miss Dimple reminded them. “Perhaps this will give us a chance to look around. Mr. Ingram said it was only a few miles down the road—not very far from his brother’s place. It shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

*   *   *

“Are you sure you turned the right way back there?” Annie asked Charlie after they had driven for what seemed like ages.

“He said turn right after we passed that abandoned barn with
See Rock City
on the roof,” Charlie said. “That was the only one I saw.”

“I believe we might have missed it.” Miss Dimple concentrated on her side of the road. “There should be a mailbox and some sort of driveway along here somewhere. Maybe we should turn back.”

“No, no! Not yet! I think I see it. Slow down.” Annie pointed to a narrow trail leading off into the grass and brambles just ahead of them.

“That doesn’t look like a driveway to me,” Charlie said, coming to a stop. “The ruts are a foot deep and it looks like a jungle growing in the median. I’m not driving up there.”

“Look, there’s a mailbox.” Annie brought their attention to a rusty metal box on a tilted wooden post. She narrowed her eyes to read the name. “I can barely make it out, but it looks like
Wyatt.
This has to be Rebecca.”

Charlie turned into the overgrown trail and parked. “I hope you’re up for a hike because it looks like we’re walking from here.”

This was no inconvenience to Dimple Kilpatrick, as she walked almost every morning and the others had thought to wear sturdy boots. The tall grass and underbrush from either side snagged at them as they trudged along, sidestepping to avoid puddles.

“Aunt Lou said she was sure the Ingrams didn’t get a look at them yesterday at the Curtis farm,” Charlie said, “but what if they did? What if Coralee connects our being there this morning to her suspicions about somebody hiding in the Curtises’ barn?”