Miss Dimple and the Slightly Bewildered Angel (29 page)

Annie snatched up her coat and threw it around her shoulders. “How long have you been here?”

“Were you the ones who turned off the lights?” Charlie asked.

“Why no. It was so dark in here, we couldn't see, so we turned them on,” Jo told her. “We'd only been here a few minutes when there was a loud racket somewhere near the choir loft, and then we heard you scream.”

*   *   *

Minutes later, Charlie telephoned Chief Tinsley from Phoebe's to tell him what had happened, and was relieved to hear that he and Warren Nelson would immediately head to the church, along with Doc Morrison, who acted as coroner in addition to his other duties. As eager as they were to find out what had happened, not one of the women complained when advised to stay away.

Augusta brewed several pots of tea, for which everyone was grateful, but no one seemed hungry for the shortbread cookies she offered.

“Could you tell how she died?” Annie asked Charlie after her second cup of tea. But Charlie shook her head. “Are you kidding? You know how dark it was in there. I couldn't get away fast enough.”

“Miss Dimple, I can't tell you how grateful I am that you called attention to Charlie's absence,” Jo said. “I just assumed that she was here with Annie.”

“Yes, thank you,” echoed Charlie and Annie at once. “I've never been as glad to see anybody in my life,” Charlie added. As a rule, she would've been annoyed her mother and aunt had felt the need to check on her, and was certain Annie felt the same. After all, they were grown women and respected teachers in the community, but in this case, all that didn't matter one whit.

“I wonder if the one who killed Lucille followed us into the church,” Annie said. “Whoever it was must've been looking for something in there and turned off the lights to scare us away.”

“Do you think they came to get the gloves?” Charlie said, remembering she'd left them behind.

Annie frowned. “But why worry about her gloves when the killer must have known somebody would eventually find Lucille herself?”

Charlie shuddered. “Can we please talk about something else?”

Eager to oblige, Phoebe called attention to the war overseas. “I was just reading about our forces landing on Leyte, where General MacArthur was finally able to say ‘I have returned.'” She shook her head. “I'll have to admit that earlier in the war, I had my doubts.”

“It does seem like things are looking up,” Velma added. “I heard a few days ago that U.S. forces captured Aachen, their first major German city.”

“Aachen! That sounds like a sneeze.” Charlie tried without success to suppress a laugh, and soon everyone else joined in.

“I feel thankful every day we're so far removed from what's going on over there,” Lily said. “Those people live in fear for their lives every time a plane flies over, and many are even starving. I heard on the news that British forces have been delivering food because of a famine in Athens.”

The others nodded in agreement, and Annie, who was just about to reach for a cookie, decided she really wasn't hungry. For a while, they sat in silence around a low-burning fire in the parlor, until Lou could keep quiet no longer. “I'm sure everybody else is wondering the same thing I am,” she began in her loud, take-charge voice. “Is the person who killed Dora also responsible for what happened to Lucille, or do we have more than one murderer in town?”

“Wait a minute,” Charlie said. “We're not sure yet if that
was
Lucille. I didn't actually look at her.”

“I believe we'll soon find out,” Miss Dimple said from her position at the window. “I see Chief Tinsley headed this way.”

“The woman's body has been taken to Harvey Thompson's,” the chief told them upon entering, “but we'll need to find someone who can identify her.”

This was greeted by silence, until Jo spoke up. “Lou and I spoke to her only briefly, but if it's Lucille Westbrook, I think I would know her if I saw her.” She glanced at her sister, who nodded in agreement.

“How was she—Could you determine how she died?” Annie asked, hoping against hope the woman had died a natural death. A heart attack maybe, or a sudden stroke.

“Looks like she was strangled from behind. The scarf was still around her neck, but Doc will be able to tell us more later.” Hat in hand, the chief sat in the nearest chair and took a minute to choose his words. “Does anyone know what this woman was doing here? And why the church—that particular church?”

“We believe she was looking for a book,” Miss Dimple told him. “It seems Dora took this book with her when she left home, and from what we've learned, it's supposed to have some value, but no one knows what or where it is.”

“When Dora left here, we assume she went straight to the church,” Velma said, “and it would be reasonable to believe she might have hidden the book there.”

“If she did, we couldn't find it,” Annie said, “but then, we had no idea what we were looking for.”

Bobby Tinsley got to his feet and sighed. “Well, if you ladies don't mind, let's get this over with. If this is Lucille Westbrook, we'll have to get in touch with her next of kin.”

“That would be Dora's husband, Leonard,” Lou explained. “Lucille is—or was—his mother.”

“If you do speak with him,” Charlie said, “ask him the name of that blasted book.”

 

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-FOUR

“Well?” everyone asked when Lou and her sister returned a short time later. “Were you able to tell if it was Lucille?”

Jo made a face and nodded. “I hope I never have to do anything like that again! Poor thing, you should've seen her face.”

“Her son will be here tomorrow,” Lou added. “He must think we're the murder capital of the world.”

*   *   *

A solemn group gathered around the supper table that night after Charlie left with her mother and aunt. Augusta served a platter of sliced ham and homemade bread with cups of winter-squash soup and the conversation was subdued until Miss Dimple again raised the question of the puzzling murders.

“This is not going away,” she reminded them, “and we're going to have to deal with it one way or another.”

Velma glanced up over her cup of soup. “Any suggestions?”

Augusta frowned. “First of all, what brought Lucille here to Elderberry after all this time? If she was looking for the book, it seems she would've been here earlier.”

“I suppose we'll know more after the authorities speak with her son tomorrow,” Velma said. “I hope he'll be able to give us some answers.”

Phoebe suddenly put down her fork. “I believe someone invited her here,” she said.

“Who?” Lily asked.

“And why?” Annie echoed.

“I think Phoebe has a point,” Augusta said. “After all, by this time most of us know Dora at one time had on her person a valuable book, but who, other than Dora, and possibly her husband and his mother, knew the title?”

“As cold-blooded as it seems, I think that's something to keep in mind,” Miss Dimple said. “It's beginning to look as if someone may have asked her here and pretended to help her look for the book, then killed her as soon as they learned the title.”

Annie covered her face with her hands. “‘That it should come to this!'” she said, quoting a line from
Hamlet
. “Who would
do
such a thing?”

“Someone who obviously doesn't know or care about the difference between right and wrong,” Miss Dimple said. “Someone who's extremely dangerous.”

Lily shuddered. “Well, I certainly hope he doesn't come here again!”

“I don't believe he will.” Augusta helped herself to one of Odessa's green tomato pickles and passed them along. “I think whoever it is will try once more at the library.”

“Virginia!”
Miss Dimple tossed aside her napkin and stood. “She's weeding out a lot of those books that are either out of date or way beyond repair and might be working late. I have to warn her.”

But no one answered the telephone at the library, and Dimple was relieved when she finally reached her friend at home.

Virginia and a few volunteers had accomplished a lot that day, she was told, and planned to continue tomorrow.

“Since tomorrow is Saturday, you can count on me to help,” Dimple promised, and Augusta volunteered, as well. “Meanwhile, I plan to ask the police to put a special guard at the library tonight. With luck, we might be able to put a stop to this before this person kills again.”

*   *   *

“Woodrow Malone.” Jo Carr stood on the threshold of the library the next morning and tossed her beret on a chair. Lou would have joined them as well, she told them, but she had talked her husband into taking her shopping in Atlanta.

Virginia frowned. “Woodrow who?”

“Woodrow Malone, Dora's friend in Fieldcroft. I've just remembered his name. I have a feeling he might be able to help connect the dots on Dora's mysterious letters from Columbia.”

“Then let's not waste any more time.” Virginia reached for the telephone. “Florence, can you please ring Bobby Tinsley for me?” She knew the operator would stay on the line, but in this case, what did it matter?

“Well, when do you expect them back?” she asked. “Oh my goodness! Really? Whenever he gets in touch, please ask him to call me at the library.… no … we're all right, but I really think he should know about this.”

Hanging up the receiver, she couldn't resist a chuckle. “That oughta keep Florence guessing for a while!”

“What is it?” Miss Dimple hurried from the back room, where she had been working, followed by Augusta.

“I was just speaking with Shirley—Shelly at the police department,” Virginia said, and she told me Chief Tinsley had been called to Harris Cooper's store. Seems Jesse Dean was looking for cleaning supplies this morning in that little storeroom in the back and ran across those things taken from Rose McGinnis and her aunt.”

“I know Gertrude will be glad to have her silver ladle back,” Dimple said, “but who in the world would put them there?”

“I suppose anybody could,” Jo said. “I don't think they ever keep it locked.”

“But why hide them there?” Dimple frowned. “Unless they meant to throw suspicion on Jesse Dean.”

“From all I've heard about your friend Jesse Dean, that would be the last thing on his mind,” Augusta said. “Besides, if he really meant to take them, why turn them in now?”

“It seems to me whoever put those things there meant not so much to throw suspicion on Jesse Dean as to direct it away from himself,” Dimple said. “And I still can't see what it has to do with Dora Westbrook's death.”

“Nor can I,” Virginia added. “At least we should learn the title of that book when Leonard Westbrook gets here this afternoon.”

It seemed like forever before Chief Tinsley finally returned Virginia's call, but actually it was less than an hour, and when she told him about Woodrow Malone, he decided it would be best to ask the police in Fieldcroft to take care of it. After the turmoil of finding Lucille Westbrook's body, the matter of Woodrow Malone had taken a backseat, he admitted.

“Jo said he spends most of his time at his fix-it shop,” Virginia told him, “so he'll probably find him there. You will let us know when you hear from him, won't you?”

And the police chief promised that he would.

*   *   *

Expecting an unwelcome visitor, they took time about going home for the noonday meal, and upon returning to the library, Dimple brought along Annie. “With all of us helping, we should soon be through,” she said.

By midafternoon, they were close to finishing when Virginia, becoming impatient, shelved the last of a stack of books and started for the telephone. “It doesn't look like Bobby's going to call to tell us what he's discovered, and I'm tired of waiting. Maybe he's forgotten.”

“No, wait just a minute,” Dimple cautioned her. “I believe I see him coming now.”

But it was Warren Nelson, not the police chief, who crossed the porch and stepped inside. “The chief has gone to meet Leonard Westbrook at the funeral home,” he told them, “and I can't stay, but he wanted you to know what he found out from that fellow in Fieldcroft.”

Jo nodded. “You mean Woodrow Malone?”

“According to this Mr. Malone,” Nelson began, taking a piece of folded paper from his pocket, “Dora Westfield had asked his advice about finding someone who might help her sell a book she considered valuable.”

“Did she tell him what it was?” Jo asked. But the officer shook his head. “No, just that it had been a wedding gift from a relative and she wanted to know what it might be worth.”

Warren smoothed out the paper on Virginia's desk. “Here's a short list of names and addresses he gave her. Now, whether she contacted any of them or not, he didn't know.”

Miss Dimple studied the list silently. “Oh, yes. I believe she did,” she said, passing the paper to Augusta. “There's an address in Columbia, right at the top, and it seems that would be the nearest person to contact. I think we should find out if she got in touch.”

“Tell you what,” Warren offered. “I've got to get back with the chief, but it shouldn't take long after that to put in a call to this fellow and find out if he heard from the Westbrook woman.”

“Then you'll give us a call?” Virginia asked.

“I'll do better than that. I'll drop by as soon as I know anything. We want to keep an eye on this place anyway, and I might just be able to find out the title of that book that's responsible for all this.”

“So, what do we do now?” Annie asked after he left.

“I suggest we sit tight,” Miss Dimple said.