The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star Read online

  Later, when Lizzy was preparing to leave, she asked about Roger. He wouldn’t be home until late, Mildred said in an offhand way. He had to attend a city council meeting, and he and Jed Snow and a couple of the other council members would probably stay behind for a game of poker.

  Remembering Roger’s clumsy attempt to get out of Miss Dare’s reach when she had landed a kiss on his cheek, Lizzy wondered whether he might be trying to avoid her—and trying to stay out of his wife’s way, as well. Even though he didn’t know about the anonymous letters and wasn’t aware that Mildred knew about his transgressions, he couldn’t be very comfortable.

  • • •

  Whatever Roger’s motive for staying away, he hadn’t yet returned by the time Lizzy and Verna arrived at the Kilgores’ house in the sporty 1928 red LaSalle two-seater Verna had bought, used, to celebrate her promotion to acting county treasurer. Lizzy had lashed her bicycle behind the rumble seat so she would have a way to get around the next day, and they had both brought clothes for the weekend. Riding in the LaSalle was an adventure, because Verna had only recently learned to drive and Lizzy had to hang on for dear life as Verna rounded corners and dashed down straightaways at frightening speeds. As they raced down the last three blocks to the Kilgores’ house, Lizzy dared a glance at the speedometer and shuddered to see that it registered 35 miles per hour. (Of course, she reminded herself, Grady drove fast—but he knew how to drive!)

  It had rained again that evening, and the music of the summer cicadas was loud in the velvety darkness as Lizzy and Verna got their bags out of the car, walked up the path to the house, and knocked at the door. Mildred, looking pale and tense but composed, showed them upstairs to their bedroom, which was adjacent to Miss Dare’s and across the hall from Miss Flame’s. She turned on the overhead light.

  “The ladies aren’t back yet,” she said, “but I imagine they’ll be along shortly.” She opened a door. “This is your closet. That other door”—she pointed—“opens into Miss Dare’s room. You can bolt it on this side, and she can bolt it on her side, as well. The master bedroom is at the far end of the hall. Melody’s bedroom is next to ours, but she’s staying with one of her cousins this weekend. The bathroom is on the other side of the hall, next to Miss Flame’s room. There are fresh towels on your beds.”

  “A very pretty room,” Verna said approvingly. There was cream-colored wainscot and pink wallpaper on the walls, twin beds covered in ruffled pink coverlets, and a pink and cream braided rug on the floor. A small cream-colored rocking chair sat beside the open window, which was dressed up in crisscross curtains of pink marquisette and pink window blinds. “Isn’t it, Liz?”

  “It’s lovely,” Lizzy said, although to her way of thinking, there was a bit too much pink. “We’ll try our best not to put you to any trouble, Mildred. Verna has to work tomorrow, of course. But Mr. Moseley gave me the day off, so I’m available to help with the party preparations—until the afternoon, anyway, when I’ll be working in the Dahlias’ garden and taking care of last-minute festival stuff.”

  Mildred nodded. “And Miss Dare’s plans?” Her voice was carefully neutral.

  “She said she would spend the day at the airfield,” Lizzy said. “They’re giving rides—well, selling rides.” She smiled. “A penny a pound, according to the fliers.”

  Mildred seemed relieved, and Lizzy knew why. If Miss Dare was working, she wouldn’t be with Roger. She said nothing at all about the reason for Liz’s and Verna’s overnight surveillance, if that’s what it could be called. Lizzy didn’t either.

  “Well, then, I’ll see you at breakfast,” Mildred said. “It’s been a long day and I’m very tired. I’m going to bed as soon as the ladies get back from the movie.” As if on cue, there were voices downstairs, and a woman’s laughter. “Oh, there they are,” she said, sounding relieved. “Well, I’ll say good night.”

  She left, closing the door behind her. Lizzy watched her go, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Mildred’s manner seemed strained and oddly disconcerting, with an unusual tension that was unlike her usual self-possessed calm. It reminded her uncomfortably of their conversation that afternoon, and she felt a ripple of apprehension.

  Verna did not appear to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. She turned on the lamp between the beds and turned off the overhead light. “Now that we’re here, I feel a little silly,” she remarked, sitting down on one of the beds. She took out a package of Pall Malls and lit one, dropping the match into the ceramic ashtray—in the shape of a pink donkey—beside the lamp. “All this seems so . . . normal.” She gestured around the room. “You don’t really think there’s any serious threat against Miss Dare, do you?”

  “I’m afraid I do,” Lizzy said ruefully, thinking about the woman’s many enemies—including their hostess. “And as Miss Marple might say, there’s a difference between what seems and what is.”

  She pulled the window shade down, then opened her bag and took out the red print blouse and slacks she planned to wear the next day, as well as the gray silk dress for the party. She carried them to the closet and hung them up, then put her underthings and stockings in the top drawer of the bureau beside the window, taking special care with the chiffon-weight silk stockings with the French heels that she had bought especially for the party, for the unreasonable price of a dollar forty-nine a pair. The stockings were folded in tissue paper, to protect them from snags.

  “But I don’t think anything is likely to happen here,” she added, over her shoulder. “If there’s trouble, it will probably be out at the airfield, with the airplanes. That’s why Charlie is staying out there tonight, with Mr. Hart.” She paused, frowning. “Although—”

  There were footsteps and women’s voices outside in the hallway, and the sound of doors closing, first one, then another. In a moment, Lizzy heard a window being raised in the adjoining room.

  “Although what?” Verna asked. She picked up the ashtray and swung her stockinged feet onto the bed, propping herself up against the headboard with a pillow. “Don’t keep things to yourself, Liz. If there’s something important, I ought to know it—oughtn’t I?”

  It was a good question. Verna already knew about the airplane sabotage, but Lizzy had actually been thinking that perhaps she ought to tell her about the other things—the anonymous letters, the checks, the uncomfortable and perhaps perilous triangle involving Roger, Mildred, and Miss Dare. Yes, she had promised Mildred she would keep those things confidential. But Mildred’s comments that afternoon, as well as her manner just now, were definitely disturbing. And there was that odd business between Angel Flame and Miss Dare after lunch at the diner. It wasn’t likely that something was going to happen here, tonight. But if it did, and if Verna understood what was going on, she would know better how to respond.

  Verna listened intently to Lizzy’s complicated story, smoking in silence. When she had finished, Verna let out her breath, and a stream of blue smoke. “I had no idea,” she said softly. “Miss Dare certainly has her share of enemies, doesn’t she? Sabotage is one thing. But kidnapping?”

  “I think Charlie went a little overboard on that,” Lizzie said. “But I heard on the radio tonight that there was a kidnapping in Mobile yesterday—the wife of a local grocery store owner. The crooks were asking three thousand dollars, but she tricked them and got away.” She sighed. “It seems to be happening everywhere.”

  Verna was thinking about something else. “I wonder what’s going on between Miss Dare and Angel Flame—jealousy, maybe? Could be personal, could be professional. And we don’t know much about Rex Hart. How do you think he fits into this?”

  Lizzy frowned. “Charlie thinks he may have had something to do with the sabotage, especially since both attempts seem to have been made by someone who knows something about airplanes. But Miss Dare refused to answer any questions about him. She told Charlie to leave him out of it.”

  “Mmm,” Verna said thou
ghtfully, and stubbed out her cigarette. “Do you suppose Rex Hart wrote those anonymous letters?”

  Lizzy hadn’t thought of that possibility. She cocked her head on one side, considering. “The letter I saw was written in purple ink on pink paper. Mildred said that the handwriting was a woman’s, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure. It could have been a man’s—and I suppose a man could have used that paper and ink, especially if he wanted to make the letter look as if it were written by a woman.” She frowned. “But what motive would Rex Hart have?”

  Verna shrugged. “Maybe he’s jealous of Roger Kilgore and hoped that Mildred would tell her husband to drop Miss Dare or else. Or maybe he was trying to push Mildred to the point where she would make serious trouble for Miss Dare. And then of course, there’s the blackmail. Maybe—”

  “Blackmail?” Lizzy asked blankly. “What blackmail?”

  Verna frowned at her. “Really, Lizzy. Haven’t you thought through this at all? Those checks Roger wrote. It sounds to me as if Miss Dare has been blackmailing him. Threatening to reveal their relationship if he didn’t pay up.”

  Lizzy blinked. “Really, Verna, I don’t think I—”

  “Come on, Liz, think,” Verna broke in urgently. “Why else would he be paying her? I’ve had several dealings with Roger Kilgore in the probate clerk’s office. The man is by no means a pushover. I seriously doubt that he would fork over nine hundred bucks out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “Not even for love?” Lizzy ventured, feeling that she had not looked deeply enough into this complicated situation. It was a good thing Verna was here to set her straight.

  “Not even for love,” Verna replied firmly. “Roger is not that kind of guy.” She gazed up at the ceiling, tapping a fingernail against her teeth, thinking. After a moment, she said, “But of course there are other possibilities. It could be that our anonymous letter writer is the one who is doing the blackmailing. After all, we don’t know for sure who got the three checks that were written to Lily Star.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Lizzy said, puzzled. And then she did. Of course: Lily Star might be, or might not be, Lily Dare. And they had no idea to whom the checks were mailed, or who actually received and cashed them.

  “Yes,” she said, slowly. “I think I see.” She looked gratefully at Verna, glad that she had told her everything, even though it meant breaking a confidence. Verna was clever. Like Miss Marple, she saw things that other people failed to see—perhaps because (like Miss Marple) she did not expect the best of everyone.

  “Well, good,” Verna said. “So let’s see where we are. We know that Roger Kilgore is sending money to somebody—it could be Miss Dare but it might just as well be somebody else—to keep mum about something. The odds are good that it is his relationship with Miss Dare, which he doesn’t want his wife to know about. She controls the money.”

  “She does?” Lizzy asked. “Oh, yes, of course she does. She told me so just yesterday.” It was true. Roger Kilgore might have built up the dealership into the successful business it was—or that it had been before the Crash. But the money to start it had come from Mildred’s father’s cotton fortune. And Mildred was afraid, very afraid, that her money might all be gone soon.

  “Of course, Roger could be trying to hide something else altogether.” Verna frowned. “In any case, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already stopped loving that woman, or lusting after her, or whatever his feelings were when he got himself into this tricky situation. He’s no dimwit. He may have already broken it off.”

  Lizzy nodded. “He has to know that their relationship is dangerous in a lot of ways. Maybe he’s trying to extricate himself.” On the other hand, maybe Roger was like Miss Dare, who seemed to thrive on danger. Maybe that was what had brought them together in the first place.

  She shivered. She couldn’t love someone—truly love him—if she had to worry about the risk involved. Maybe that was why she felt more comfortable with Grady than with Mr. Moseley. Grady was safe, and Mr. Moseley was . . . well, not so safe. Mr. Moseley himself was not a dangerous man, of course—in fact, he was rather conservative and sometimes even stodgy. But there were certainly potential dangers in a relationship with him.

  Verna thought for a moment. “And Roger seems not to be the only one dangling from Lily Dare’s string. There are those other men you mentioned.”

  “Yes,” Lizzy mused. “The men who ‘support her expensive habits,’ was the way the letter put it.”

  Verna stood up and stretched. “I’ve had enough mysteries for one night. I’m going to brush my teeth. Do you want to take the first watch, or shall I?”

  “The first watch?” Lizzy asked, still thinking about those other men.

  “Two hours, don’t you think? Whoever’s on watch can sit in the rocker beside the window. Miss Dare has her window open, too, so we’re sure to hear if she screams or anything. Why don’t I go first?” She looked at her wristwatch. “It’s ten o’clock. You get some sleep and I’ll wake you at twelve. Then you can be on watch until two. Okay?”

  Lizzy began to unbutton her blouse. She was glad that Verna was there to think things through for them and make a plan, since she herself usually just took things as they came.

  “But I think we ought to leave our clothes on,” Verna went on. “Just in case we hear something and have to investigate, I mean.” She walked to the window, let up the shade, and looked out. “And for whatever it’s worth, there’s another way out than the stairs,” she remarked, over her shoulder. “We’re only about ten feet off the ground, and there’s a trellis under this window—and the one next door. We could climb down easily.”

  Lizzy went to look. “I’m pretty sure Miss Marple would draw the line at climbing down a trellis from a second-story window.”

  Verna grinned and pulled down the shade again. “Maybe. But Nancy Drew would be just fine going down, don’t you think? And somebody could certainly climb up. Heigh-ho. I’m off to brush my teeth. Back in a flash and then it’s your turn.”

  A little later, back from her turn in the bathroom, Lizzy pulled off her shoes and stretched out, still wearing her clothes, on the pink chenille coverlet on one of the beds. She was dozing off when Verna spoke into the shadowy darkness.

  “Grady Alexander came into the office today on some property business. He said you’re going to the party tomorrow night with Mr. Moseley. True?”

  “Not true,” Lizzy said. “I mean, it was true when I told Grady. But Mr. Moseley had to go out of town. So I don’t have a date.” As an afterthought, she added carelessly, “Which is fine with me.”

  “It’s definitely not fine with Grady,” Verna remarked. “He thinks he’s lost you and he doesn’t know what to do about it.”

  “Did he say that?” Lizzy asked, surprised.

  “Not in so many words,” Verna admitted. “But I could hear it in his voice. You’re not going to see him again? You two have broken up?”

  “Not exactly,” Lizzy said, and told Verna what had happened. She didn’t often talk about her feelings, even with Verna, who was a close friend—her best friend, actually. But the dark made the words come a little easier, somehow. And made it easier for her to admit that she’d been wrong.

  “I wish I hadn’t agreed to go with Mr. Moseley,” she said. “That was where I made my mistake.”

  “Mistake?”

  “Well, yes.” Lizzy hesitated. “For one thing, I’m not sure how easy it would be to work with him afterward.”

  “After what?”

  Lizzy frowned. “After—well, you know.” She wished that Verna would be satisfied with one answer instead of always pushing for more. It was very irritating.

  “After a few kisses—or something else?”

  “Nothing else!” Lizzy said indignantly, and then subsided. “But a few kisses would be bad enough, wouldn’t they? Bad as in dangerous, I mean.”<
br />
  It might be easy for Verna to work with a man she had kissed. But not for Lizzy. Grady had kissed her often enough—and passionately enough—and she knew how she felt afterward. If Mr. Moseley kissed her the way Grady did, it might be hard for her to sit on the other side of the desk while he dictated letters to her the next morning—no, not hard; impossible! She could never in the world pretend that nothing important had happened between them when it had. Just thinking about it, she could feel her insides softening and her cheeks burning.

  “Liz, sweet Liz,” Verna said pityingly. “You do have a lot to learn. Not that I’m an expert when it comes to romance,” she added. “But if you’ve decided that it’s too dangerous to go out with Mr. Moseley, I think you should do something about Grady. He’s pretty unhappy.”

  “He’s unhappy because he’s been taking me for granted,” Lizzy said, not very logically. “And now he knows he can’t. Or shouldn’t.” She slid back down on the bed. “Or won’t. Or . . . something,” she added, and pulled the pillow over her face.

  “You don’t sound very happy, either,” Verna remarked.

  “I’m not,” Lizzy confessed. “Not when it comes to Grady. I just wish he—” She stopped. She couldn’t finish the sentence because she had no idea what she wished. She was utterly confused and she hated it. Hated being confused, that is.

  Verna laughed shortly. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to be even unhappier when I tell you who Grady has asked to the party tomorrow night. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but somebody has to tell you so you can be prepared.”

  Lizzy pushed the pillow aside and sat bolt upright. “Grady is bringing somebody? To the party?” She swallowed. “He’s got a date with somebody else?”