Miss Dimple Rallies to the Cause by Mignon F. Ballard Read Free Book Online Page A

Emmaline. I just hope I can get through this rally without committing murder or mayhem.” Virginia shoved a stray book into place and stooped to stroke Cattus, who ignored her.
    “Since you’re speaking of that subject, I see Bo Albright has a front-page story about the remains of the woman uncovered on the Hutchinsons’ farm,” Dimple said.
    Virginia frowned. “How do they know it was a woman?”
    A copy of the Eagle lay on the massive oak table by the windows where students sometimes did homework, and Miss Dimple folded it neatly into fourths to read. “Bo quotes the coroner as saying the skeleton belonged to a woman who had been dead for approximately two years.” She sighed in disapproval. “This is most unnecessary, and on the front page, too. Did you see this, Virginia? It sounds like a circus barker: Floodwaters uncover shallow grave! Who was the mystery woman buried there? What secrets did she hold?
    “Secrets indeed! It’s not only sensational, but disrespectful as well. There’s just no excuse for it.”
    “I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.” Virginia reached for the paper. “It should be easy enough to find out,” she said after studying the article. “Who went missing about two years ago? Of course it could’ve been someone who wasn’t from this area.”
    “I can’t think of anyone right offhand, but I do hope they’ll find out soon so the unfortunate person can be properly laid to rest,” Dimple said.
    “But whoever put her there could still be close by.” Virginia tossed the newspaper aside. “The Hutchinsons’ son would’ve been here two years ago—about high school age, I imagine … and the war would have given him a perfect excuse to leave.”
    Miss Dimple nodded. She hoped it wasn’t true.
    *   *   *
    “You all better eat your fill of this here fried okra. Ain’t gonna be no more till next summer.” Odessa Kirby, Phoebe Chadwick’s longtime cook, set down a bowl filled with the crisp vegetable, dipped in buttermilk, seasoned cornmeal, and fried in bacon drippings, and watched it disappear. Today was vegetable day at the rooming house, and no one seemed to mind. In fact, they happily devoured the green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, and field peas that had come from the Chadwicks’ victory garden.
    Dimple Kilpatrick helped herself to Odessa’s delectable corn pones, golden brown and crusty on the outside and moist and flavorful on the inside, restricting herself to one. Miss Dimple’s brother, Henry, kept Odessa supplied with the water-ground cornmeal he ordered from a mill near his vacation home in the North Georgia mountains, and everyone agreed the texture couldn’t be equaled. Miss Dimple didn’t deny it.
    “I hear Harris Cooper’s going to be the groom for the womanless wedding,” Geneva Odom said, spooning field peas onto her plate. Although Geneva didn’t room at Miss Phoebe’s, she took her noon meal there during the week, as did Charlie. The school had no cafeteria, and the students who didn’t bring a bagged lunch went home for dinner in the middle of the day.
    Harris Cooper, a local grocer, was so short he had to stand on a box to see over the counter. He wore his thinning hair slicked down with Wildroot Cream Oil, and a gold pocket watch usually peeked from his vest pocket.
    Charlie laughed. “Why, Delby O’Donnell could pick up Harris Cooper and toss him over his shoulder!”
    “I suppose that’s the point,” Geneva said, “but how are they going to find a dress large enough for Delby?”
    “Bessie’s making one from some of her old dotted Swiss curtains,” Charlie said. “I believe the wedding party is complete—or I hope it is. The first rehearsal’s tonight.”
    Ignoring Phoebe’s frown, Lily Moss blotted her mouth with her white linen napkin, leaving orange smears of Tangee lipstick. “Well, I think the whole thing’s silly! Grown men dressing up in women’s clothing. You’d think they could find better ways to spend