The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star (17 page)

Miss Dare shrugged one shoulder, looking displeased. “I don’t like fried green tomatoes. Or grilled cheese. I guess I’ll have whatever you’ve got for supper. I’m hungry.”

“I’ll have whatever Miss Dare is getting,” Charlie said.

“Me, too,” added Lizzy, who felt that she was hungry enough to eat almost anything, except grilled cheese.

“Thanks for understanding,” Myra May said apologetically. “I saved back some lemon meringue pie. You can have that, no charge.” She turned away from the table and raised her voice. “Violet, we’ll have three pulled pork on buns out here, quick as you can.”

“
Pulled pork?
” Charlie asked, both eyebrows going up. “You don’t mean—”

“Yeah,” Myra May said. “Seems to be a specialty of our new cook. She stirred up some of that good white barbeque sauce, too—lots of pepper. You folks want that, I reckon.”

Miss Dare let out her breath. Lizzy shook her head in disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Charlie said.

The food was delicious, and they lingered over it. When they finally finished, Myra May brought the coffeepot and poured another cup of coffee for everyone. “I hope you enjoyed your food,” she said.

“It was wonderful,” Lizzy said with a heartfelt sigh.

“Just terrific,” Charlie said, leaning back in his chair with an expansive expression. “I predict that Euphoria will never be missed.”

Miss Dare smiled up at Myra May. “You have a treasure of a cook,” she said. “I hope you appreciate her.”

“You have no idea,” Myra May said fervently. “Would you like to meet her? She’s been so busy that she hasn’t had a chance to get out of the kitchen since she came in this morning. But I’m sure she’d like to hear what you think of her food.”

A moment later, the diner’s new cook was standing beside their table and Myra May was introducing her. Raylene Riggs—that was her name—wore a gray print cotton dress and a large white apron. Quite attractive without being pretty, she had a decided mouth, dark brows, and graying auburn hair, cut short. Her eyes were fixed, with some surprise, on Miss Dare.

“Lily! Lily Dare!” she exclaimed. “My goodness, this
is
a surprise!”

“Raylene!” Miss Dare cried. “Why, I never in the world would have guessed I’d meet
you
here! What a coincidence! So it’s
your
pulled pork. It was so good—I should have guessed.”

“You two know each other, it seems,” Charlie said.

Miss Dare nodded, smiling. “Raylene—but I don’t think you were Riggs, then, were you? You went by the name—”

“By my married name,” Raylene broke in quickly. “I’m using a . . . a different name now. Are you and Mr. Hart doing a show here?”

“You haven’t seen the fliers and advertising?” Lizzy asked. “The Dare Devils will be performing at the Watermelon Festival this weekend. The whole town has been looking forward to it for months.”

“Raylene has been staying over in Monroeville,” Myra May explained. “This is her first day on the job.”

“And how do you two know one another, Lily?” Charlie asked curiously. “Texas? The West Coast?”

“Florida.” Miss Dare smiled. “We met in Tampa, where Raylene was the chef at one of the local hotels. In fact, she’s the one who introduced me to pulled pork. When was that, Raylene? Two years ago? Three?”

“About that,” Raylene said. To Charlie, she added, “My . . . husband was taking flying lessons from Mr. Hart, and I spent a lot of time at the airfield, watching. Miss Dare and I struck up an acquaintance. She used to tell me about her flying adventures—she’s led quite a life, it turns out. Once, we went to see a movie where she’d done some stunt flying, and she told me how the scenes were filmed. Why, she even took me up in her airplane.”

Miss Dare laughed. “I was trying to entice you into taking flying lessons, too. You seemed like such a natural. And you knew a lot about airplanes, too. Even Mr. Hart said so.”

“I knew about airplanes because of my husband,” Raylene replied. “Me, I’m a natural
cook
. The only wings I know anything about are chicken wings.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re cooking here,” Lizzy said diplomatically. “And I’m sure that Myra May and Violet are thrilled.”

“Oh, you bet,” Myra May said, with emphasis. Under her breath, she added, “Eat your heart out, Euphoria.” Lizzy laughed, glad to see that Myra May was feeling good again.

But Charlie was wearing a puzzled look. “What I want to know,” he put in, “is how Miz Riggs knew that Miss Dare was asking about pulled pork
before
she knew it was on the menu here at the diner.”

“She did?” Raylene’s dark eyebrows went up and her mouth quirked with amusement. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Now, isn’t that just the
funniest
coincidence? It’s grand when it works out that way, isn’t it?”

Lizzy blinked, remembering what Donna Sue had said about dreaming of her mother’s grits and sausage casserole and finding it at the diner for breakfast. She could imagine a coincidence like that once. But twice? Still, what else could it be?

Charlie got up. “Excuse me, ladies. I saw the latest Mobile
Register
on the newspaper rack out front. I’m going to get a copy.” He stepped away from the table.

Miss Dare leaned forward, frowning as if she had just thought of something. “Raylene, I’ll be here in Darling for a couple of days. I’d sure like it if we could get together. You know, catch up on what’s been going on. Could we maybe do that?”

“That would be swell,” Raylene said. “I’m here at the diner during the day. I haven’t located a house yet, but Violet found me a little cottage at the Marigold Motor Court, out on the Monroeville Highway. I’m in Number Four. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and the price is right.”

Miss Dare nodded. “Sure. I saw that place when Charlie drove me into town this morning. I could give you a call and see if you’re there before I come out.”

“There’s no phone,” Raylene replied. “But I’ll likely be there when I’m not here.” She smiled. “I’d better get back in that kitchen, or there won’t be any supper.” She turned and went back to the kitchen just as Charlie came back with the
Register
under his arm.

Lizzy, Charlie, and Miss Dare were leaving the diner when they heard the roar of a motorcycle and Deputy Buddy Norris brought his Indian Ace to a stop at the curb. Behind him on the motorcycle was an athletic-looking girl, tanned and freckled, her brown hair cut in a boyish bob. She wore tight denim pants and a red short-sleeved shirt with the words
Lily Dare’s Dare Devils
in white printed on the back.

“Oh, there you are, Lily!” she cried, jumping off the motorcycle. “Say, when I get a little more money, I’m going to buy one of these motorcycles for myself. It’s almost as much fun as flying!” She gave Buddy a comradely poke in the arm. “It was nice of Deputy Norris to give me a ride from the airfield. He really knows how to fly a motorcycle.”

“Hello, Mabel,” Miss Dare said coolly. “So you and Rex got in okay? No problems with the plane?”

“Mabel?” Buddy Norris glanced at the girl, obviously confused.

“Why, didn’t she tell you her
real
name?” Miss Dare asked sweetly. “It’s Mabel. Mabel Hopkins.”

Lizzy wondered if Mabel herself had chosen her exotic new name, and what it revealed about her personality. She also remembered what Miss Dare had said about Angel being an exhibitionist. Stood to reason—you’d have to want to show off if you were going to do what Angel did for a living.

“Miss Dare?” Buddy asked in an awed tone. “
Miss Dare?
” He snatched off his goggles and helmet, pulled himself up to his full height, and introduced himself. His eyes, Lizzy noticed, were fixed on Miss Dare’s clinging red blouse. “I sure am glad to see you, Miss Dare,” he blurted. “On behalf of the Sheriff’s Department, let me welcome you to Darling. We are just plumb delighted to have you here. Plumb delighted.”

“Thank you, Deputy Norris.” Miss Dare gave him an enticing smile. “It’s very sweet of you to say so.”

Angel narrowed her eyes. “Come on, Deputy Norris. I’m hungry.”

But Buddy acted like he didn’t hear her. “Oh, but it’s
true
,” he said, clutching his helmet in his hands. “Why, the fastest woman in the world, faster than Amelia Earhart, and she’s right here in Darling!”

Lizzy had to smile. If there was anything on this earth that Buddy loved more than
speed
, she didn’t know what it was. He drove his motorcycle, as Grady put it admiringly, like a bat out of hell. No wonder he was dazzled by the Texas Star.

“Tell you what, Deputy Norris.” Miss Dare reached into her pocket and pulled out a little white card. She wrote something on it and handed it to Buddy. “That’s a ticket for an airplane ride. Just give it to the ticket-taker and you’ll be the next guy to go up.” Her smile was dazzling. “The ride’s on me.”

“Holy cow,” Buddy breathed. He looked up and his eyes met hers. “Golly, thanks! I mean . . . well, just holy
cow
!”

Angel Flame poked Buddy again. This time, it wasn’t a comradely poke. “Deputy, I am going to get some lunch. I swear, I am hungry enough to eat a
pig
.” She opened the diner door to go in.

“Oh, sure thing,” Buddy said, although he looked as if he was having a hard time tearing himself away from the divine Miss Dare. Reluctantly, still looking back over his shoulder, he turned to follow the girl.

“Oh, Mabel,” Miss Dare called. “You be sure to tell them you want the grilled cheese sandwich and fried tomatoes.” She gave a teasing laugh. “Don’t let them talk you into ordering anything else. You hear?”

That laugh, Lizzy thought with some surprise, held a malicious barb. Watching Lily Dare’s flirtatious little drama, she could understand what Angel Flame might have against the Texas Star, who had just upstaged her with Buddy Norris.

But what did the Star have against the Flame?

When they left the diner, Charlie drove Miss Dare and Lizzy to the Kilgores’ house. He made arrangements to take Miss Dare to supper and then to the special showing of
Hell’s Angels
and went back to the newspaper office. Miss Dare announced that since she was going out for the evening, she would take a bath and a long nap and would appreciate not being disturbed. She disappeared into her room—the yellow room at the top of the stairs. Lizzy and Mildred sat down in the kitchen over a cup of tea.

Looking at Mildred, Lizzy thought that she had not slept for several nights. Her eyes were like dark holes in white paper. “Are you all right?” Lizzy asked, concerned.

Mildred looked away. “She’s even more beautiful than her pictures, Liz,” she said bitterly, “and much more sexy. If I had known about her and Roger, I wouldn’t have planned the party. And I would
never
have invited her to stay under my roof!”

Lizzy opened her mouth to say something, but Mildred was going on. She clenched her hand into a fist. “I could scarcely keep myself from telling her off, right there in front of Mr. Dickens! I don’t know how in the world I can stand it, having to be polite to her until she leaves. Just looking at her makes me want to throw up.”

“You can do it, Mildred,” Lizzy said comfortingly. She reached across the table and patted her friend’s hand. “I know you can. Anyway, if you told her off, what would you say?”

Mildred leaned forward. “What would I say?” Her face was suddenly twisted and ugly and her voice was full of disgust and revulsion. “I would scare her little lacy panties right off her, that’s what I would do. I would make her read that anonymous letter out loud, word by word. I would show her that photograph and those checks. I would threaten to drag her name through the mud if she didn’t stop foolin’ around with my husband. And if she gave me so much as one word of sassy backtalk, I would slap her, hard. Or maybe I’d take a fireplace poker to her.” Mildred’s eyes blazed with an almost volcanic anger. “That pretty face wouldn’t be so pretty when I got through with her.”

Shocked, Lizzy sucked in her breath. “I . . . I really don’t think you would do that,” she said inadequately. Of all the women she knew, Mildred was the most self-contained, always behaving with the calm, unruffled decorum of a Southern lady who never acknowledged such a thing as a hard feeling. “Butter wouldn’t melt in Mildred’s mouth,” Aunt Hetty Little had once said. It had always been true—until now.

Mildred held herself rigid for a moment, then slumped back in her chair, sighing like a deflating balloon, all the energy going out of her. After a moment she spoke in a low, shaky voice.

“You’re right, Liz. Of course I wouldn’t. My mother taught me never to cause a ruckus,
never
. She would be horrified if she knew what I just said. I take it all back, every word.” She leaned forward again and put her cold hand over Lizzy’s. “Please,” she said urgently. “Forget what I said. Just forget it.”

Lizzy was stunned into silence. Mildred might want to take back her words, but she had said them with a ferocity that made them difficult to forget. And saying a thing and doing it were not all that far apart. If Mildred felt that her marriage and her home and the family business were all in jeopardy, wouldn’t she actually
do
what she had just said? Lizzy shivered. She didn’t like to feel that her friend would resort to violence, but she had to admit the possibility.

The silence dragged out until at last Lizzy disengaged her hand. She heard herself say, “Well, it probably wouldn’t do any good to threaten Miss Dare, Mildred. Judging from what I heard her tell Charlie Dickens earlier today, I don’t think you can frighten her into doing something—or into
not
doing something. She is scare-proof.”

And that, Lizzy told herself, is what made Miss Dare such a dangerous person. She did exactly what she chose, without regard for anyone else—or for the consequences. It was no wonder that Mildred was angry, after what she had learned. How many other people were just as angry as Mildred, or even angrier? And even more eager to translate their anger into action? Miss Dare was playing with fire.

Mildred picked up her teacup with a sigh. “I’m sure you’re right, Liz. It wouldn’t do one single ounce of good.” She paused, pushing her mouth into a smile and trying to speak in something resembling her normal voice. “Well, then. Do you know what the plans are for the evening? I’m wondering about supper.”

Lizzy tried to match her tone. “Charlie Dickens is taking Miss Dare to supper and to the special showing of
Hell’s Angels
at the Palace. That seems to be the plan, anyway. While everybody’s out for the evening, I need to go to my house and pack a suitcase. Verna and I will come back here later and stay the night. But this afternoon, while Miss Dare is sleeping, I have to make some phone calls about the festival. May I use your phone to do that?”

“Verna?” Mildred asked.

“I hope that’s okay,” Lizzy said tentatively. “If it isn’t, I can cancel. I just thought that two of us might be better than—”

“Of course.” Mildred got up. “I’m glad that Mr. Dickens thought of suggesting that you do this, and that Verna will be here, too. That woman has already caused enough trouble. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her while she is a guest in
my
house.” She took their tea cups to the sink and rinsed them. “I have some work to do in the garden. Help yourself to the telephone.”

Lizzy spent the next hour on the telephone, checking up on the arrangements for the weekend festival and making sure that everything was going according to plan. The carnival was due to arrive that evening to start setting up at the fairgrounds. Verna reported that the tents hadn’t gone all the way to Indianapolis after all. They had been spotted at Montgomery, put on the next southbound freight, and arrived safely at the depot. The Masons had already picked them up—so that was one problem solved. And Aunt Hetty reported that the watermelon roundup was going even better than expected. “We’re not going to run out
this
year,” she said triumphantly. “Now, if all the Dahlias will just show up to do the picking for the farmers market booth, we’ll be in great shape.”

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
?”