Miss Dimple and the Slightly Bewildered Angel (4 page)

Velma Anderson looked as if she was ready to paw the floor and snort. She had not taught Bobby Tinsley in any of her secretarial science classes at Elderberry High, but she had supervised him in study hall and remembered how, on several occasions, he'd tied Franny Sue Boulware's dress sash to the desk behind her.

“Don't you get smart with me, Bobby Tinsley. The only thing I know about Dora, other than her first name, is that she was hungry and needed a warm coat.”

“Perhaps I had better explain,” Miss Dimple said, and told the men how she and Virginia had found the woman on the porch of the library the day before. “She had no place to stay and we were arranging for her to spend the night at Warren and Opal Nelson's place, but she left without saying a word. We had no idea where she might've gone.”

“I wish you ladies would have a seat, because I'm going to,” Doc Morrison said, and plopped into the wing-back chair by the fireplace. “I think I know where she went,” he continued. “She walked a few blocks over to the Presbyterian church. They never lock their doors, and I expect she curled up to sleep in one of those pews until, for some reason or other, she took a notion to climb that ladder to the steeple.”

“But that was last night,” Annie said. “You mean she fell … she's been lying there all this time?”

Chief Tinsley nodded. “Sure looks that way. Bob Robert found her there when he went to ring the bell for the evening service. Poor fellow was so shaken up over it, Doc had to give him something to steady his nerves.”

“Did you not find any kind of identification in that bag she had with her?” Velma asked.

The chief frowned. “What bag?”

“A brown paper bag, like the kind they use for groceries,” Phoebe told them.

The two men exchanged glances. “I don't suppose you know what was in there?” Bobby said.

Miss Dimple shook her head. “We assumed she might have a change of clothing and perhaps a small change purse with whatever money she had—if she had any. She told us she'd only eaten a banana and a few cheese crackers all day, and she didn't carry a pocketbook.”

Annie's eyes filled with tears. “Poor Dora! If only she'd stayed with the Nelsons last night, this wouldn't have happened. I wonder what made her leave here like she did.”

“And why would she climb that ladder to the steeple in the middle of the night,” Miss Dimple asked, “unless she was running from someone?”

 

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

“Would you mind some company?”

Dimple paused in the doorway the next morning as she started on her usual walk, umbrella in hand, only to find Augusta—cape, tam, and all, beside her.

“Of course not,” she said, although to be honest, she'd rather have had this time alone, especially today, as she had a lot on her mind. But she'd found it almost impossible to be discourteous to someone who made her smile in spite of herself—
and
was keeping them all extremely well fed, apparently with little effort. Earlier, she had peeked into the pot of oatmeal, smelling delightfully of apples and cinnamon, keeping warm on the back of the stove, and noticed the pan of biscuits ready to pop into the oven. Perhaps, just this once, she might cut her walk a little short and forgo the Victory Muffins.

“I hope our visitors didn't disturb you last night,” Dimple said after they had walked a while in silence. Augusta's room was on the first floor, across from the kitchen, and she would have had to have been deaf or comatose to sleep through all that racket. “I'm afraid we received some rather distressing news.”

The two paused beneath the tulip poplar on the corner while Dimple told her of Dora's appearance and then disappearance on Saturday and the tragic accident the following day on the stairs that led to the steeple. Yellow leaves like tulip blossoms swirled about them and the autumn air was as crisp and sweet as a new apple. It was Dimple's favorite time of year and she had never outgrown the joy of the holidays that followed. For Dora, there would be no holidays. No joy.

Listening, Augusta fingered the strand of stones around her neck as the colors changed from amber to green to dark violet. “How sad,” she said. “How very sad.” And then: “Are they sure this was an accident?”

“I'm inclined to believe it wasn't.” Miss Dimple speared a bit of litter with her umbrella as they crossed the street, then put it into the paper bag she carried for that purpose. “I think she went into the church looking for a sheltered place to sleep and someone frightened her into seeking safety in the bell tower.”

“How long had she been there when they found her?” Augusta asked.

“Doctor Morrison thinks it must have happened sometime last night. She left our place at a little after five on Saturday, and I imagine she wandered around a bit before settling on the church as a safe place to spend the night.”

“It appears she was running from someone,” Augusta said. “I wonder who or why.”

“Have the authorities been able to find out anything about her background?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I remember her having a rather large paper bag when she came with us to Phoebe's, and I assumed it held the belongings she had with her, and possibly some identification, but Chief Tinsley said they had found no sign of it.”

“Then someone must have taken it.” Augusta frowned. “It sounds as if they were looking for something.”

Dimple nodded. “I wonder if they found it.”

Augusta shook her head and frowned. “I'm afraid this is not what I expected. I wish I knew…”

“What do you mean?” Dimple asked. “Knew what?”

But Augusta either didn't hear her question or chose to ignore it. “I suppose I'd better get back and put those biscuits in the oven,” she said as they circled the small business district and turned left onto Myrtle Street. “Have you ever noticed,” she said, looking about, “how these willow oaks hold on to their leaves long after others have fallen?”

Miss Dimple nodded. “True, but I believe these are water oaks.”

Augusta's necklace jangled as she walked a little faster. “Really? Are you sure?”

Having been born and bred in the Georgia countryside, Dimple Kilpatrick was as sure as she knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west, but she didn't dispute the matter. “I believe there's a reference book on that subject in the bookcase by the stairs,” she said. “We can look when we get back.”

She might not be able to stir up waffles or decorate a room at the wink of an eye, but she knew a water oak when she saw one!
And Dimple Kilpatrick picked up her pace.
Just who was this stranger who seemed to have landed on their doorstep?

*   *   *

“Any more word about what happened to Dora?” Dimple asked, leaving her umbrella in the stand by the door.

Phoebe put a pitcher of orange juice on the sideboard and searched in the drawer for spoons. “Not yet,” she said. “I do hope they'll be able to find out who she is and why she came here. Odessa phoned this morning, all upset about Bob Robert finding that woman like that.”

Dimple nodded. “Not something he'll easily forget, I'm afraid.

“And how is Odessa's aunt?”

Phoebe smiled. “From what I hear, Aunt Aurie seems to be a bit of an autocrat. She's probably doing a whole lot better than Odessa.”

*   *   *

“Well, you'll never guess what's happened now,” Phoebe announced when everyone returned for the noon meal that day. “I ran into Lizzy Vaughn in the post office this morning. She's in charge of the nursery department at the Presbyterian church, you know, and she told me somebody telephoned Jesse Dean Greeson at Cooper's grocery store late Saturday and asked him to deliver a couple of boxes of vanilla wafers to the church kitchen.”

“I suppose they wanted them to keep the children happy during the Sunday-morning service,” Velma said, and then frowned. “But they didn't have a Sunday-morning service, did they?”

Phoebe dealt out silverware with a clatter. “And that's not all,” she continued. “Lizzy says she didn't order them and neither did anybody else.”

Lily shook her head. “I still don't understand.…”

“Neither did I,” Phoebe admitted, “until several people reported seeing Jesse Dean using that side door to the church
at about the time Dora was killed,
and apparently somebody called and gave that information to the police.”

Miss Dimple adjusted her bifocals, as if that might help her to understand. “Does Jesse Dean remember who called in that order?” she asked.

Phoebe explained the store was winding up their harvest sale and getting ready to close for the day. “He doesn't even remember if it was a man or a woman,” she added, “but of course the police had to interview Jesse, since he was in the church during the time in question and could've easily had access to the steeple from the kitchen area.”

Annie sighed. “Why in the world would Jesse Dean want to kill Dora what's her name when he didn't even know her?”

Miss Dimple's voice was calm. “I'm sure our Chief Tinsley is well aware of that, but it seems someone is trying very hard to make him look guilty.”

“But who would want to do that?” Phoebe asked. “And why?”

*   *   *

It was not until that afternoon that they learned the paper bag containing Dora's few possessions had been found in a trash can at the depot. Inside were a pair of pajamas and a few other items of clothing, as Miss Dimple had surmised, as well as small purse containing a little less than twenty dollars and a handwritten letter to Dora from an address in Tennessee.

“Whoever she was running from must not have been after money,” Chief Tinsley told them when he dropped by later that day. “They didn't bother to take the purse, and I doubt if they saw the letter, as it was tucked into the folds of her underwear.” He sighed. “At least now we know who she is—or was.”

“Well then, who was she?” Velma demanded. She still hadn't forgiven him for getting on his high horse with her the day before.

It looked for a minute as if he might smile, but the chief managed a businesslike expression before continuing. “Name's Westbrook—Dora Westbrook, but the letter was addressed to a Mrs. Leonard Westbrook.”

“Where? Surely not here,” Phoebe said.

Bobby Tinsley shook his head. “Little place called Fieldcroft, just below Savannah. Letter was sent to a street address there—Lucia Lane, I think it was. I forget the number, but we checked it out. Seems this woman—this Dora—took off a couple of days ago. Mother-in-law answered the phone when I called. Said Dora's husband—Leonard, I presume—was frantic. Told me he'd been scouring the countryside, trying to find her.”

“Did she have any idea why Dora left?” Dimple asked.

“Seemed to think she might've had a breakdown of some sort.” The chief frowned. “I got the idea she thinks this Dora had mental issues.

“From what we could judge by its contents, we believe the letter came from the woman's sister in Tennessee, an Elaine Arnold. In it, she said she hoped Dora would be able to make it back home for Christmas this year, but she didn't mention the possibility of her leaving immediately. Return address was a little town in Tennessee—Lewisburg, I think it was. Dora might have been on her way there, but why did she get off in Elderberry?”

“Then, for heaven's sake, why didn't she
say
something?” Annie asked. “Why didn't she tell us she needed help?”

“It was easy to see the poor thing was afraid,” Phoebe said, shaking her head. “She didn't know if she could trust us or not. I wish we had taken more time to get to know her better. Perhaps we could have helped.”

“We
did
try, Phoebe,” Velma reminded her, and frowned. “I wonder why she left here like she did—just took off without so much as a by-your-leave.”

Miss Dimple spoke up quietly. “I think I know. We were talking about finding a room for her that night, remember? She must have been listening from the kitchen when I suggested we get in touch with the Nelsons, and I believe I might've mentioned that Warren worked with you, Chief Tinsley, at the police department.”

“So … do you think she was running from the police, as well?” For about the third time, Chief Tinsley ran his fingers through hair that looked as if a hen had been scratching there. “We checked with the police down there, but, strangely enough, they were only recently informed she was missing.”

“Well, that sounds peculiar.” Lily hugged herself and shivered. “She was obviously in danger, and for all we know whoever was after that poor woman might decide to come for us next. Velma, I think we should lock the doors to our rooms tonight.”

“Well, it sounds pretty fishy to me,” Velma said, ignoring her. “If her husband was all that frantic to find her, looks like he would've reported her missing.”

Annie agreed. “And I wonder where this
Leonard
was the night she fell from that ladder in the bell tower—
if she fell.
”

Chief Tinsley turned to them with a smile that wasn't a smile. “Thank you. Thank you, all. I'll keep that in mind.” And with a mock bow, he made his way to the door.

“Well,” Annie said as the door closed behind him, “I didn't mean to step on his toes.”

“Why, I don't believe you were standing close enough to step on the man's toes.” Augusta spoke from the doorway, where she'd been observing the chief's visit.

Miss Dimple smiled as they filed into the dining room, where a tureen of something with a tantalizing aroma beckoned. “It's only an expression,” she explained, wondering where this whimsical person had been hiding. “Annie meant she didn't intend to take charge of someone else's business.”