The Darling Dahlias and the Silver Dollar Bush

“So what else is new, Ima Gail?” Verna countered, turning away from Violet and lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “That’s why it’s called the Depression, isn’t it? Everybody’s assets are worth less than they used to be. I’ll bet most of the people in this country owe more on their mortgages than their houses are worth.”


“I’m just telling you what Jackie-boy found out,” Ima Gail said breezily. “Anyway, Duffy is in the doghouse with his bosses because Delta Charter is afraid they’re going to lose a mint of money on the Darling bank. They’re ready to throw in the towel.”

“They’re blaming him?” Verna asked in surprise. “But it’s not his fault, is it?”

“Maybe not, but he bought it. If it’s broken, he’s got to fix it or he’s out. They’ve told him to find another buyer, somebody with money, to pick up a substantial portion of the bank shares.”

“A substantial portion? What’s that?”

“Fifty percent. And it’ll probably have to be somebody local. Another big bank wouldn’t touch a financial property that Delta Charter has already valued as a loss.”

Verna chuckled sarcastically. “Somebody local with money? Like who? Little Orphan Annie’s Daddy Warbucks, who always comes up with enough cash to solve the problem? Nobody in this county has enough money to buy a bank.”

But as she said those words, she thought of someone she knew who just might have enough audacity—and maybe enough of the family fortune—to do it. The likelihood was pretty remote, but it might be worth a shot.

“Afraid you’re right,” Ima Gail said regretfully. “But if Duffy doesn’t come up with a buyer, he’s out on his ear, too, since Delta Charter is pinning the blame on him. Doesn’t look good, whichever way you slice it.” She paused. “Well, that’s the scoop—on the business side. You want to hear the personal stuff?”

Verna sighed. “I don’t know,” she said glumly. “Do I?”

“Depends on your point of view. Turns out that this guy is a three-time loser. To tell the truth, I kinda feel sorry for him.”

Ah-ha, Verna thought bleakly. Now she would get the dirt she’d been looking for. Except that she wasn’t sure she wanted it. Not after the bad news about the bank. But Ima Gail was waiting.

“Okay,” she sighed. “A three-time loser. So what did he go to jail for?” Probably some kind of fraud, she thought. Cheating a wealthy widow out of her fortune, or—

“Not that kind of loser,” Ima Gail replied seriously. “A real loser, I mean. He lost his first wife to cancer two or three years ago, right after their little boy was killed by a trolley car on St. Charles Avenue. Really tore him up, Jack said. He was quite a family man, and losing both of them was very hard on him. He must have been lonesome, for he married a second time, within the year. But he’d only been married a few months when his new wife—Claudia, her name was—decided that she was in love with his best friend. His best friend, mind you!” Ima Gail sounded shocked. “To make things even worse, before Claudia ran off to Reno and got a quickie divorce, she charged thousands of dollars in clothes and jewelry and perfume to Duffy’s accounts. So he was double-crossed by his best friend and betrayed by his wife, and he had to pay off all her bills. And now there’s this problem with the bank. The poor guy must feel like he’s been snakebit.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Verna sucked in her breath. “Divorced . . . and widowed?” This wasn’t at all what she had expected to hear. She felt the way an overconfident Ellery Queen felt in The Greek Coffin Mystery, when he had come up with the wrong solution to the crime—not once but several times. She had been wrong on both scores, professional and personal.

“Yep. And now his ex and his best friend are married.” Ima Gail tut-tutted. “Maybe your Mr. Duffy is lonely. Maybe he’s looking for somebody to help him forget. Or somebody to help him get a new start.”