Miss Dimple Suspects by Mignon F. Ballard

easier to find, but that wasn’t her concern at the moment.
    “Ever since she was elected president of the Woman’s Club, she’s been like a great big thorn in my side,” Virginia went on, “and you know the club pays my salary, so what can I do? How would she like it if I tromped into Brumlow’s Dry Goods and swapped everything around in her display cases?”
    Miss Dimple had found the best way to deal with Emmaline was to agree with her and then go ahead and do as she pleased. She told Virginia that. “I wouldn’t waste my time worrying about it,” Dimple said. “She’ll forget all about it as soon as something else comes along.
    “Now,” she added, leading the way into the familiar living room. “I’m afraid I have another favor to ask.”
    “You want to bring that woman in here?” Virginia said when Dimple explained the situation, and immediately ran to the kitchen window to peer at the car parked in back. “Dimple, how do you know she didn’t kill that poor soul? I don’t want to come back here and find your body lying in a pool of blood!”
    “Charlie and Annie are with me, so I don’t believe she can do away with all of us,” Dimple said, not bothering to hide her smile.
    “I don’t see anything funny about it, Dimple. It didn’t take much imagination to see how that Hawthorne woman was killed. Gives me chills to think about it. I can’t believe you didn’t go straight to the police!”
    “Do you really believe that young woman would still be around if she were guilty of murder?” Dimple said. “Suzy spent the night in a barn, Virginia, and she’s only eaten a few crackers and a candy bar since yesterday—plus, she’s chilled to the bone. I’m asking you to look at her—just look at her, and if you still feel she’s a threat, I promise we’ll go somewhere else.”
    Dimple used the same tone of voice she used when reading Snow White or Cinderella to her small charges. It never failed to elicit pity for the damsel in distress.
    It didn’t now. “Oh, well!” Virginia shrugged. “Bring her in, but don’t expect me to feel sorry for her.”
    *   *   *
    “Charlie, watch that pan of milk on the stove! And, Annie, there’s an enamel tub in that cabinet in the bathroom. If you’ll bring it in here, I’ll fill it with hot water.” Virginia touched Suzy’s forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m surprised you don’t have a fever. Now, sit right here at the table and let us warm you up.”
    Max, delighted to be allowed inside after a morning in the fenced backyard, frisked about the small kitchen, obviously happy to see his owner’s companion again. From time to time, Suzy stroked the dog’s head when at last he had settled beside her.
    Virginia frowned as she glanced at the kitchen clock and then at Suzy. “I should be getting back to open the library, but first I have to know what happened. Why on earth did you run away?”
    Shedding her wraps, Miss Dimple pulled up a chair as the others gathered around her. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she encouraged Suzy. “No one’s going to bother you here, so take your time.”
    Her feet immersed in warm water, the young woman held the mug of steaming milk with both hands, sipping it slowly while Charlie kept an eye on the pan of oatmeal simmering on the stove. “First of all,” she told them, after taking a deep breath, “I had nothing to do with what happened to Miss Mae Martha.” She looked from one to the other. “I can’t make you believe me, but I promise you I’m telling the truth!”
    Suzy sighed and shook her head. “It seems a million years ago.… I can’t believe it was only yesterday. It was soon after breakfast that Miss Mae Martha decided she wanted some fresh greenery to make an evergreen wreath for the door and to decorate the mantel, so I took some shears and a bucket and walked about a mile or so over that hill on the other side of the house where she told me I’d find some pretty