Miss Dimple and the Slightly Bewildered Angel (30 page)

“And keep the door locked,” Virginia added.

“Do you really think they'll come back?” Annie asked.

“I believe whoever it is is only waiting for us to leave,” Augusta said.

“Well, they'll be wasting their time. We've looked through every book in this library and I haven't seen one that looks remotely valuable,” Virginia said.

Annie went to the piano and ran her fingers up and down the keys. “Anybody want to play ‘Chopsticks'?”

“It's been a while, but I'll try,” Augusta said, joining her.

“Don't you all know anything else?” Jo asked after several fractured attempts.

“Let's see what we can find in here,” Annie said, and lifting the seat of the piano bench, she brought out a thick copy of
Songs for the Hearth and Home.

But it wasn't a songbook underneath the tattered cover, but a very old edition of
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

“I think we've just found what everyone's been searching for,” Annie said, hugging the book to her chest. Tenderly, she turned the pages. “And it's signed by Samuel Clemens with ‘Mark Twain' in parentheses beneath it.”

“There seems to be an envelope glued to the inside, as well,” Augusta said. “It's addressed to a Mrs. Richard Mayfield and there's a note enclosed.”

The note, they discovered, consisted of only a brief paragraph to “Dear Miss Millie,” thanking her for “a pleasant weekend among delightful company.” It was signed “Truly yrs, Samuel Clemens.”

“And it's been sitting in there all this time!” Jo sighed. “What do we do now?”

“I think we should put it back where we found it for now and telephone the police,” Miss Dimple advised.

“What is it, Virginia?” she added. “You don't look well.”

Virginia waved that away. “It's that book,
Huckleberry Finn.
Remember how Willie Elrod was shoved from his bike on his way home with a copy of this same book?”

“Yes, but that one wasn't worth anything,” Annie said.

Virginia nodded. “True, but whoever shoved him didn't know that yet. The next day, Marjorie Mote found the copy he borrowed under some bushes near the sidewalk. I think the person who made Willie fall returned the book sometime during the night.”

“Do you remember who was here when the boy checked out the book?” Augusta asked.

Virginia thought for a minute. “Why, yes. It was just Phoebe and myself. And Rose McGinnis.”

Going to the telephone, Miss Dimple picked up the receiver.

“Who are you calling?” Jo asked.

Miss Dimple held up a hand for silence. “Florence,” she said, “connect me with Gertrude Hutchinson, please.”

After a brief conversation, during which she discovered the older woman was alone, Miss Dimple invited her to join them for a cup of tea at the library. “We've been having such dismal weather, we thought it would cheer everyone up to spend some time together this afternoon,” she told her.

“Gertrude said she'd be happy to join us,” she said, hanging up the receiver.

“Then I'll run over to Cooper's and pick up some cookies,” Jo offered.

“And I'll collect our guest.” Pocketbook under her arm, Virginia prepared to leave. “Somebody call Bobby Tinsley
right now,
” she directed. “And lock this door behind us.”

Virginia was relieved to find Gertrude waiting on the doorstep when she arrived.

“I was glad to hear they found your missing punch ladle,” she said as they got under way. “I know it must be special to you.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I was happy to get it back.… It's just that…”

Virginia glanced at her passenger as she waited for a light to change. Gertrude seemed ill at ease. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose it is. Virginia, how did those things end up in a storeroom in Cooper's store? It doesn't make any sense.”

Virginia agreed that it didn't. “Trudy, is everything all right at home? What did Rose have to say about those things turning up?”

For a minute, Gertrude didn't answer. “Actually, it's been a while since I've spoken with Rose. She's been behaving a bit strangely lately, and frankly, I'm concerned.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, she finally admitted her fiancé broke off the engagement during her visit at Camp Gordon. Naturally, she's upset about that.”

“Oh, Trudy, I'm so sorry! It does seem she's had more than her share of troubles after losing her job, and now this robbery at her shop.” Virginia glanced at her passenger. “I can only imagine how she must feel.”

“And there's something else, too,” Gertrude continued. “We had been to Harris Cooper's for groceries weeks ago and I happened to mention that Jesse Dean's daddy, Sanford, worked for my husband's brother, Tate, years ago, before he just up and disappeared. Sanford came from that little town in south Georgia—Fieldcroft—and I remembered how his folks used to send pecans from there.”

“Was this before or after Dora Westbrook was killed?” Virginia asked.

“Oh, before. Weeks before. Then Rose went to visit her fiancé at Camp Gordon and was in that awful bus accident on the way back. That was when she started asking questions about Jesse Dean's daddy being from Fieldcroft. I never understood why she wanted to know all that.”

Virginia thought she understood but believed it best to keep quiet.

“I think losing her job at the defense plant and then a broken romance on top of it have probably been more than Rose could take,” Trudy said. “And I'm afraid her little shop has been a disappointment, as well.”

*   *   *

Both Chief Tinsley and Warren Nelson were waiting when they returned to the library for the impromptu tea party, but cookies and tea took a backseat to the discussion that followed, and with a solemn face, Bobby Tinsley told them of his meeting with Leonard Westbrook.

The rare copy of
Huckleberry Finn
had been given to them as a wedding gift from his favorite aunt, Leonard told them. She loved reading, as Dora did, and was particularly fond of her. The book had been a gift to her mother by Samuel Clemens, who had been a guest in their home, and she especially wanted Dora to have it.

Although it belonged to both of them, Leonard admitted he had forgotten all about it. Apparently, his mother hadn't. He had no idea Lucille planned to come here until he found a note from her saying she had received a letter from someone here who promised to help her find the missing Twain book.

“Did he say who sent it?” Miss Dimple asked. But Bobby shook his head. “It appears the note wasn't signed, or if it was, Lucille didn't say.”

He frowned. “I can't be sure, but I believe Lucille was told to meet this person at the church where Dora died.… Poor woman, she must have felt she'd be safe in a church.”

“Dora certainly wasn't,” Jo said. “But I don't understand how anyone here could possibly know about Dora or that she had with her a rare edition of Twain's work.”

“I think I can answer that,” Warren said. “I followed up on that address from Columbia and found that the person Dora had been corresponding with was killed in a bus accident while en route to meet her here in Elderberry. His wife told me he had been looking forward to seeing what seemed like a genuine first edition and hoped to help Dora find a buyer. They had agreed to meet in Elderberry, as it was an equal distance between them.”

The room grew suddenly silent as everyone did their best not to look at Gertrude until she spoke up at last. “I knew something was wrong. Bad wrong, but not this. Nothing like this.”

Augusta went to her and put her arms around her while Chief Tinsley drew a packet from inside his jacket. “And by the way, Leonard Westbrook tells me the scarf used to strangle his mother didn't belong to Lucille.”

Gertrude grasped Augusta's hand. “I think we all know whose scarf that is. I gave it to Rose on her birthday.”

“So that's why Rose came back to the church,” Annie said. “She was after her scarf.”

“Miss Trudy,” Bobby said gently, “I think you should make arrangements to visit your sister for a while until all this has been worked out.” While Virginia telephoned Trudy's sister and made arrangements for her to stay, Warren agreed to take her home to pack a few things before driving her to her sister's.

“What now?” Annie asked as the two drove away. “Surely Rose won't show up after all this.”

“A rational person wouldn't, but Rose isn't thinking rationally,” Miss Dimple pointed out. “She must have been that fellow's seatmate before the bus accident, and I imagine he shared his excitement over the possibility of finding such a rare edition.”

“Just imagine all the times she sat at that piano, and all the time that book was in the very bench she was sitting on,” Virginia said. “And by the way, Bobby, if Leonard hasn't already left, you might want to take the book to him. After all, it belongs to him, and I don't want to be responsible for it.”

The police chief shook his head. “He says he doesn't want it. Says it's caused enough heartbreak. He wants Dora's sister to have it. Frankly, I think he regrets the lack of warmth in his marriage. He can't bring Dora back, but at least the book can go to someone who can appreciate its value.”

“Then I'll take it when I go there for Thanksgiving,” Miss Dimple said. “My goodness, it will be here before we know it.”

“And what does Henry think about that?” Virginia asked, and Dimple smiled. “I received a call from my brother yesterday and he's treating me to dinner in Atlanta next weekend—just the two of us. It's been a long time since we've done that!”

Annie looked out the window. “Where do you suppose Rose is now?”

“I don't know, but I don't want any of you around if she does come back,” Bobby said. “The woman's completely off balance. She had no reason to kill either of those women. Dora's death might have been an accident, but of course we'll never know for sure. I believe she became frightened when Rose approached her that night at the church and fell while attempting to get away.”

Annie frowned. “Why do you think she killed Lucille?”

“I think she knew the book she was looking for was a rare edition by Mark Twain, but she wasn't sure of the title. As soon as Lucille told her what to look for, she signed her death warrant.”

“Is it really worth that much?” Jo asked.

“I'd guess several thousand, maybe more. Leonard says it's one of a limited number printed with a sheepskin binding. Of course Rose has blown that all out of proportion in her desperate search to find it,” he said.

“It seems odd when you think of it,” Virginia said, “but like Dora, Rose must've been desperate to have enough money to start all over again somewhere else. I wonder if she was the one we saw under the magnolia that day. Remember, Dimple? Someone seemed to be stalking the library but ran when the police came. Why didn't she just show herself?”

“Probably because that was exactly what she was doing—stalking. I imagine she was trying to decide the best way to get inside and didn't want to be seen.”

Annie put the untouched cookies back into the box. “So, what now?” she asked.

The chief looked at his watch. “Now, I believe it's time for all of you to go home. I'll park my car out of sight and keep an eye on the front while another officer watches the rear. I've noticed a window unlatched off the porch, so I imagine she'll try to come in that way. Probably unlatched it herself the last time she was here.”

“You will let us know what happens, won't you?” Jo asked, and was assured that he would.

Carrying the book, carefully shrouded in brown paper, Dimple walked home flanked on either side by Annie and Augusta, with Jo bringing up the rear, as Virginia had come in her car.

“I feel like a pallbearer,” Annie joked as they paraded down Katherine Street and paused to cross at the corner.

“I'll take that!” Suddenly, she was upon them, and if it hadn't been for Annie and Augusta blocking her way, Rose would probably have been able to wrestle the book from Dimple's grasp.

“I don't think so!” Augusta said, and Rose felt herself falling facedown on the pavement, just as if she had slipped on a banana peel.

Meanwhile, Dimple regained her grip and sent Annie to call the police from the nearest house, which happened to be the Motes. Every time Rose regained her balance, she slipped again. And again, until finally she lay prone on the sidewalk, at which point Bobby Tinsley arrived.

“Well, if that doesn't beat all!” he said, pausing for breath. “How'd you manage this? Is this some kind of voodoo or something?”

Augusta smiled. “Oh, just something I learned years ago. It comes in handy now and then.”

The chief cuffed Rose and put her in the back of his police car. “Looks like you won't have to worry about this one anymore.”

“How
did
you do that, Augusta?” Annie asked after Jo parted from the three of them. But Augusta only smiled.

“I'm not sure why you're here, Augusta,” Dimple said as they neared home, “but I'm awfully glad you came.”

Augusta smiled. “And so am I, but I believe your friend Odessa will be able to join you as soon as her aunt is up and about.”

“But can't you stay, as well?” Annie asked.

“You know what they say about too many cooks spoiling the broth,” Augusta reminded her, “but I do plan to be here through Christmas, and I'm so looking forward to the music.”

The others agreed that they were, too.

“I understand the Methodists are planning a cantata this year,” Augusta said, humming a sort of tune under her breath. “I wonder if they need another soprano.”

 

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