The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree

“Hey, Grady.” Charlie stopped typing, rolled his chair back, and stood, stretching. “Afternoon, Lizzy. Say, Miz Search dropped off a page of tips on makin’ do for that pamphlet your garden club is compiling.” He began sorting through the litter of papers on his desk. “Now, whut the heck did I do with it?”


Charlie’s skills as an editor and his command of standard English were impeccable, but he preferred to ‘talk ’Bama,’ as he put it. He said that folks felt a little easier talking to him if he didn’t put on the dog.

Grady put his hat back on, all business. “Charlie, there’s been a bad accident. I was out having a look at Harvey Jackson’s hogs when his boys came in and said there was a car wrecked and somebody dead in it, down in Pine Mill Creek. Harvey and I drove over to look; then I hightailed it back here to town to tell the sheriff. Figured you might want to get out there and take some pictures. Looks like a newspaper story to met.”

Charlie stopped messing with the papers on his desk and jerked off his eyeshade. “Get out where? Where’s the wreck?”

“Where the bridge on the county road has been out for the past three weeks. A girl drove through the barrier and into the ravine. She’s dead.”

Lizzy bit her lip. “Oh, dear! Oh, Grady, that’s awful! A girl? Who?” Darling was small and its families, neighbors, and kinfolk were all knitted together in a dense fabric of relationships. When somebody died, it left a hole. Everybody felt the loss, one way or another.

“You can say that again,” Grady replied tersely. “Purely awful. The car rolled a time or two before it got to the bottom, and it landed on top of her. She’s smashed up so bad I couldn’t tell you who. She’s a blonde is all I can say.”

A blonde? Lizzy stared at him, her heart beginning to pound.

Charlie was reaching for his suit jacket. “Don’t have any film in my camera,” he said, shrugging into it. “Used it up on Saturday, shootin’ the Vo Ag boys out at the fairgrounds. Lester ordered it for me this mawnin’—be here on tomorrow’s bus. Lizzy, you got film in that Kodak of yours?”

“Sure,” Lizzy said. “You can take my camera.” She was trying to sound normal. “What kind of car is it, Grady?”

“Pontiac roadster, green, pretty new. It’s upside down in the rocks by the creek.”

“Roadster?” Charlie frowned. “Whose ’ud that be? Didn’t know we had any Pontiac roadsters in town.” Darling was small enough so that everybody knew what everybody else was driving, how long they’d had it, and what they’d paid for it.

“Dunno,” Grady said. “Didn’t recognize it m’self I can give you a lift out there if you want, Charlie. I left Harvey Jackson’s oldest boy with the wreck. I told his dad I’d bring him home, so I’m going back out there. We can stop at Lizzy’s house on the way and get her camera.”

“Fine with me,” Charlie said, shoving a small notebook into his coat pocket and grabbing his hat. “Let’s go.”

“I’m going too,” Lizzy said.

“Sure thing,” Charlie said, opening the front door. “We’ll leave you at your house after you give me your camera, and then we can—”

“No,” Lizzy said firmly. “I mean I’m going out to Pine Mill Creek with you. I want to see the wreck.”

“Absolutely not,” Grady said flatly. He went to the Ford and opened the passenger door with a Southern gentleman’s flourish. “Trust me, Lizzy. This is for your own good. You do not want to see this wreck. Now, get in the car. Charlie can ride in the rumble seat as far as your house.”

“Maybe Liz oughtta ride in the rumble,” Charlie said. “She’s skinnier than I am. How ‘bout it, Liz? You’re gettin’ out first”

“But I might know who she is,” Lizzy objected. “I know all of the women in this town. I might be able to identify her.” She lifted her chin and hardened her voice. “And if I don’t go, neither does my camera.”

“Forget it,” Grady said. “You are not going. It is not a thing for a woman to see.”

“All right, then.” Lizzy folded her arms. This was so like Grady, always trying to tell her what she should and shouldn’t do, which was one of the reasons she was not going to marry him. “I’m not going, and neither is my camera.”

Charlie scowled. “Hey, you two. Stop bickerin’ and let’s get goin’.” To Grady, he added, “Woman is too damn stubborn for her own good. If she wants to see a dead body, let her. What the hell—won’t hurt her none.”

“Exactly,” Lizzy agreed. “It won’t hurt me. And I might be able to help.”

“Help? I don’t see how you can help.” Grady glared at her.

“I might be able to identify her.”

Grady made a skeptical noise.

“Maybe she can,” Charlie said. He was trying to cram himself into the rumble. “Come on. Let’s get that camera.”

“You’ll faint,” Grady said.

“I’ve never fainted in my life,” Lizzy said. “But if I do, you can pick me up.”