The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

Then her eyes flew wide open. “You are not going to believe this, Liz. But lo and behold, when I went into the diner to get my usual doughnut for breakfast, Raylene—that’s the name of the new cook—was just serving up a batch of—guess what!—grits and sausage casserole! And what’s more, it tasted like my mama’s, too—which is strange by itself, since there must be dozens of ways to cook up grits and sausage in a casserole.”


“That is hard to believe,” Lizzy replied, thinking that if anybody but Donna Sue had told her this, she would suspect that it was a made-up story. But Donna Sue was an unimaginative woman who did good work in the circuit court judge’s office precisely because she was such a no-nonsense, nothing-but-the-facts-please kind of person. “You dreamed about it, and there it was,” she mused. “You must have been surprised by the . . . coincidence.”

“Surprised? Was I ever!” Donna Sue exclaimed. “But to tell the truth, it didn’t feel like a coincidence. It felt like magic.” She added ruefully, “I’m afraid I made a pig of myself. That casserole was even better than my mama’s, if you can believe that. I told Violet and Myra May that Raylene is a much better cook than Euphoria and I hoped that she would be cooking in their kitchen forever.” She paused. “Really, Liz. You should go over there and give Raylene a try.”

“I will,” Lizzy said, and headed upstairs to the county treasurer’s office to have a cup of coffee with Verna.

Verna was not the most cheerful person in the world, but this morning, her frown was even darker than usual. “I have bad news about the tents for the Watermelon Festival,” she said, as she put Lizzy’s coffee mug on the desk. “Two men from the Masonic Lodge brought a truck to the depot to pick them up, but the tents weren’t on the train.”

“Oh, dear!” Lizzy exclaimed, suddenly apprehensive. The sabotaged airplane and now this! She sat down in the chair next to Verna’s desk. “Well, when are they coming?”

“No idea,” Verna said shortly. “I called the rental agency in Mobile as soon as I got the word, but nobody answered the telephone. I called twice more this morning. I’ll try again in a little while.” She shook her head. “Sorry, Liz. I know that isn’t what you wanted to hear. But I’ve got it under control.”

Lizzy chuckled wryly, and Verna gave her a suspicious look. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“I’m remembering what you said Monday night, at the Dahlias’ clubhouse,” Lizzy replied. “‘When everything seems to be under control, that’s just the time when it isn’t. When everything just plain goes to hell in a handbasket.’” She sighed. “Far as I’m concerned, this festival is jinxed. Everything is already going to hell.”

“Uh-oh,” Verna said, with evident interest. She liked it when someone confronted her with a problem she could put her mind to. Verna was a natural problem solver. “What else has gone wrong?”

“Too much,” Lizzy said. Choosing her words carefully, she told Verna about the sabotage to Miss Dare’s airplane, the possibility that the air show might be called off, and Charlie Dickens’ concern for the physical safety of the Texas Star. Lizzy didn’t say anything about the rest of it, of course: Charlie’s relationship with Miss Dare (whatever it was) and the anonymous letters and photograph that had sparked Mildred Kilgore’s fears about her straying husband. Those things had been told to her in confidence and were too deeply personal to share—unless she felt she absolutely had to.

“And that’s the story,” Lizzy concluded. “If the air show comes off as planned, Charlie plans to hang around the airfield and make sure nobody monkeys with the airplanes. And I agreed to stay at the Kilgores’ while Miss Dare is there. I’m sleeping in the bedroom adjacent to hers, so I can keep an eye on her and make sure she’s safe.” Or to keep her away from Roger, she thought to herself. She laughed a little self-consciously. “I’m afraid this sounds a bit Miss Marple-ish, doesn’t it? But it seems like the right thing to do.”