The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose

Myra May’s large green 1920 Chevrolet touring car, aka Big Bertha, was parked in the ramshackle garage behind the diner. With twenty-five thousand miles under her wheels, Bertha was on her fifth set of tires and her second carburetor and she had a bad case of the rattles. But her green canvas top was still in one piece, the red painted spokes in her wheels were still bright, and she could purr like a kitten when she was feeling good. Lizzy had borrowed the car before, so she felt comfortable driving it. And the way things turned out, she was glad that she hadn’t asked Grady if she could take his Ford. She ended up making two trips out to the Murphy place that evening, one by herself and the other with Coretta Cole. And then there was that midnight adventure at the courthouse. Grady would never have understood.

Lizzy made the first trip right after Coretta left her house. She ate a quick sandwich, then hurried to the diner, got Bertha’s key from Myra May, and drove the four miles out to the Murphys’ place to discuss Coretta’s offer with Verna. As she had expected, it was a hard sell.

At first, Verna refused to even consider talking to Coretta. But at last she threw up her hands and said, “Well, it’s for damn sure that we’re not going to get anywhere the way things stand. I’m stuck out here, without a key to the office and no access to any of the records. So I guess I’m willing to listen to what Coretta has to say, if you think I should. But I don’t want her to know where I am—just in case she’s a double agent.”

“A double agent?” Lizzy asked, mystified.

“A spy who says she’s working for one side but is secretly working for the other,” Verna said. She grinned. “Really, Liz, you should broaden your horizons. Try The Thirty-Nine Steps. It’s a great spy novel.”

“But how are you going to talk to Coretta if you don’t want her to know where you are?” Lizzy asked reasonably. “You can’t talk on the phone, it’s a party line. And if I bring her out here—well, she’ll know where you are.”

Verna waved her hand airily. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something, Liz. Use your imagination. I’ll talk to her. But it’s my way or no way.”

It took some thinking, but Lizzy had come up with a solution. By eight fifteen, when the sun had set and the April night had fallen like a dark, sweet-smelling cloak over the streets and houses of Darling, it was time to get started.

Big Bertha made such a clattering racket that Coretta Cole heard the car coming a block away and didn’t wait for Lizzy to squeeze the ooga-ooga horn when she pulled up in front of the house. Wearing a dark brown sweater over a print dress, her handbag on her arm, Coretta hurried down her front steps and climbed into the front seat beside Lizzy.

“Here I am,” she announced, adding expectantly, “Where are we going?”

“You have the auditor’s report with you?” Lizzy countered. “Verna asked me to be sure.”

“It’s right here.” Coretta reached into her bag and produced the envelope. Lizzy took Myra May’s flashlight out from under her seat, checked to see if all three pages were there, then handed it back.

“Good enough,” she said. “Now, hold still.” She whipped out a large red-and-blue-striped bandana. “I’m going to tie this over your eyes.”

“A blindfold?” Coretta squawked, holding up her hands. “I don’t want to wear that thing! It’s ridiculous!”

“You don’t have any choice, Coretta,” Lizzy said firmly. “You are wearing this, or you’re going right back into your house and I’m heading home. Which is just fine with me. It’s been a long day. I’d just as soon have the evening to myself.”

“You don’t want me to know where Verna is staying,” Coretta accused, pouting. “You don’t trust me to keep it secret.”

“How did you guess?” Lizzy asked grimly. “Now, turn around.”

Awkwardly, still protesting, Coretta turned in the seat. Lizzy folded the bandana over Coretta’s eyes and knotted it securely in the back.

“At least it’s dark and none of the neighbors can see me,” Coretta grumbled, scrunching down in the seat. “I must look like an idiot.”

“You look like somebody who’s about to embark on a dangerous spy mission,” Lizzy said with a laugh. Then she put Big Bertha into gear and they chugged off down the street.