The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose

If Coretta was on their side, there was no problem, and she and Verna could go to the courthouse and do what had to be done. But if Coretta was what Verna called a double agent, she would telephone whoever she was working for as soon as she got home and tell them that she had given Verna the key to the county treasurer’s office. Somebody would call the sheriff and Verna would be a dead duck.

Lizzy had considered (not very seriously) the idea of holding on to Coretta while Verna did her work. But to do that, they would probably have to tie and gag her, which seemed pretty extreme, not to mention illegal. As she drove, Lizzy wracked her brain, trying to come up with another strategy. And then finally, just as they got back to town, she thought of something that might work. About six or eight blocks from Coretta’s house, she brought Big Bertha to a stop.

“End of the line,” she said, and turned off the ignition.

Verna leaned forward. “Why are we stopping here?” she asked.

Lizzy mouthed, Just wait, and Verna, frowning, sat back. Lizzy leaned over and untied Coretta’s bandana. “There you are,” she said soothingly. “I’ll bet that feels better, doesn’t it, Coretta?”

Coretta didn’t answer. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around, spotting the sign that pointed to the Cypress Country Club. “Hey, wait,” she said accusingly. “I thought you were taking me home. But we’re all the way out by the country club. You don’t expect me to walk, do you? It’s acting like it’s going to rain.”

“Afraid so,” Lizzy said. She reached across Coretta and opened the passenger door. “Verna and I have an errand to do before we go to the office, so we’re letting you out here. You’re only about six blocks from home. If you hurry, you’ll get there before it starts to rain.”

“Eight blocks is more like it,” Coretta grumbled, getting out of the car. “Happy hunting, Verna,” she snapped, and slammed the door hard to show that she was peeved at the idea of having to walk.

Verna got into the front seat and they drove off. “What was that all about?” she asked curiously. “Why didn’t we just drop her off at her house? It’ll take her another fifteen minutes to get home, if she walks fast.”

“Because I’m afraid she can’t be trusted,” Lizzy said, and explained her plan.

“Ah,” Verna said, understanding. “Liz, that is very, very clever.” She grinned. “We’ll make an espionage agent of you yet.”

Lizzy parked Bertha in her garage and she and Verna went through the diner’s back door. The diner was closed and Myra May was at the switchboard. She took off her headset and turned around.

“Hey, Liz,” she said. “Hi, Verna.”

“Thanks for letting us use your car,” Lizzy said. “She got us there and back without any problems. And no flat tire,” she added. The last time she’d borrowed Bertha, she’d had a flat.

“I hope everything works out,” Myra May replied. She raised an eyebrow at Verna. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Nashville, visiting a friend?” she asked slyly.

“It was a short trip,” Verna replied with a chuckle. “I came straight back.”

“We have another favor to ask, Myra May,” Lizzy said. “Coretta Cole is on her way home right now. When she gets there, she may try to make a telephone call to . . .” She frowned. “Well, we’re not exactly sure. Maybe Mr. Scroggins or Mr. Tombull—or maybe somebody else. If she does this, she’ll want to tell the person she’s calling that Verna has the key to the treasurer’s office and will be there tonight. We hope you will . . . that is, we wonder if you could . . .” She took a breath. “Well, keep that call from going through.”

“In other words,” Myra May said quietly, “you want me to pull the plug.”

“Something like that,” Lizzy said in an apologetic tone, and Verna added, “Look, Myra May, we’re trying to figure out who took that money from the county treasury. I have a copy of the auditor’s report. It looks to me like there are several good clues in it, for somebody who knows how to follow them. If I can get just a few hours with the account ledgers and some other records in the office, I think I can track down the thief. But if—”

“But if Coretta makes that call, Verna could end up in jail,” Lizzy finished the sentence.

“And whoever she warns,” Verna continued, “may have a chance to destroy the evidence so nobody can follow the clues.”

“I see,” Myra May said. “So all I have to do is—” The switchboard buzzed and she turned around. “That’s her now,” she said.

“So she didn’t go home and go straight to bed!” Lizzy exclaimed. “Which means—” She stopped. No, it didn’t necessarily mean that. Maybe Coretta was calling her mother, or her sister, or a friend. Maybe her phone call had nothing to do with what had happened tonight.

“We won’t know what it means until we find out who she’s calling,” Verna said urgently. “Myra May, could you—”

But Myra May had already put on her headset and turned back to the switchboard. “Number please,” she said crisply, and paused. Then she turned back to Verna and Lizzy, putting her hand over her microphone. “She’s calling Mr. Scroggins.”