Free Miss Dimple Suspects by Mignon F. Ballard Page B

you can round up. Chances are pretty slim of finding this woman, dark as it is, but we gotta try.
    “I’m heading on out there now, so see if you can get ahold of Doc Morrison and ask him to meet me there. Peewee will come with me.
    “Peewee!” he bellowed, and the man who had been sitting with his feet on the desk eating peanuts in the small reception area lumbered in. “Yessir?” he answered, attempting to tuck in his shirt, although it would be impossible, Dimple thought, for Peewee to see around his huge stomach in order to know what he was doing. The man appeared perfectly capable, she imagined, of balancing a bale of cotton on each shoulder without shedding the first drop of perspiration.
    “Grab your jacket. A woman’s been killed … and for God’s sake—er, excuse me, ladies—leave those blasted peanuts behind! Looks like a circus in here.”
    The sheriff turned to the three women. “I’m sorry to have to ask, but one of you will need to come with us so you can let me know if anything’s been moved. And who knows? Maybe you’ll think of something else that might help.”
    Miss Dimple agreed to go, as did Charlie, but Virginia said she needed to get home in order to take care of her overnight guest. “I don’t have any dog food,” she admitted, “but I reckon he won’t turn up his nose at some leftover stew.”
    “I’m surprised my mother and Miss Phoebe haven’t called the police to report our disappearance,” Charlie said, and Annie promised to stay behind and explain the situation to both. “But I’ll be staying up until you get back,” she told Miss Dimple. “Please don’t make me wait until tomorrow to hear all the details!”
    The Ingrams’ house was dark when they drove past and Charlie was glad they had thought to leave a light burning in Mrs. Hawthorne’s kitchen. She remembered how kind and welcoming the artist had been when they visited there and took a deep breath to ease the anger rising inside her. Why would anyone do this to her? And what if they had returned?
    She was glad they were accompanied by the two policemen as they drew up behind the house. Charlie glanced at Miss Dimple, who sat quietly beside her looking as calm as if she were going to a meeting of the church circle.
    She watched Sheriff Holland cautiously draw his gun from his holster as he got out of the car. “The three of you stay here while I check things out,” he told them. “And Peewee, you keep an eye out, you hear? Blow the horn if you see anything suspicious.”
    Charlie felt a little shiver of excitement. Wait until Annie heard what she had missed! Shame on you, Charlie Carr! A woman lies dead in there—a talented artist who would never be able to share her beautiful work again, and whoever did it is running around free. She sat up straighter, her hand on the door handle. If she could help find who was responsible for this, she was willing and ready! Beside her, Miss Dimple’s stomach rumbled and she coughed to cover the noise. Charlie wanted to giggle. What was wrong with her? After all these years she still had trouble accepting the fact that the older teacher had human needs just like everybody else … well, maybe not quite like everybody else.
    Thank goodness the sheriff stepped outside at that moment to beckon them inside. “I reckon you all left fingerprints all over the place,” he grumbled.
    Miss Dimple reminded him that when they arrived earlier, they had not been aware they would find a murder victim there.
    Mae Martha Hawthorne lay on the floor in her studio just as they had left her and as far as she could tell, Miss Dimple told them, nothing had been moved.
    The sheriff knelt by the dead woman and carefully examined her hands. “Doesn’t look like she put up a fight. Must’ve known whoever it was that did this. Doc should be able to tell us more.
    “I’m afraid we’ll have to get prints from all you ladies who were here before, and her nephew and his wife as well. If you