Miss Dimple Suspects
“Delia said, “Sheriff Holland’s here to talk to you.” She frowned. “What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story! Tell you later—I promise.” Charlie paused to listen. “Do I hear Pooh waking up from his nap?”
After her sister hurried upstairs to check on her baby, Charlie dressed hastily in warm corduroy slacks and a sweater and towel-dried her hair. No matter how many times she’d shampooed, it still seemed to smell of smoke. They had gone directly to the sheriff’s office on the way home to explain what had happened at Rebecca Wyatt’s, and after only a brief period of questioning, Sheriff Holland and two of his deputies had left to investigate.
She hadn’t told her sister about the experience as she didn’t want to frighten her, and their mother hadn’t returned from the ordnance plant in nearby Milledgeville. All Charlie wanted to do was lie in a tub of warm water and wash the dirt, smoke, and fear away.
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