The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

Outside the window, the lightning flashed like a flashbulb going off. Listening, Lizzy shivered. Miss Dare’s voice was flat and uninflected, without a hint of fear. Were the woman’s nerves really that steely? But she had probably been in many frightening situations during her flying career. She must have developed a certain indifference to danger, trusting to skill, or to luck, to get her through. Maybe she even courted danger, finding that it provided the excitement, the thrills and chills she needed to keep her going. And maybe she needed a big dose of excitement in her personal life, as well, so she took pleasure in risky relationships. Lizzy shivered again.

Charlie frowned. “You said the plane was tampered with twice. Once in Tampa—and once in Pensacola?”

“Yes,” Miss Dare said. “In retrospect, I’m glad that the Tampa thing happened. It wasn’t fatal, luckily, and I knew it wasn’t an accident. It put me on the alert. The second time—well, if I hadn’t checked the propeller, I would have been a goner for sure.” She tossed back the rest of her whiskey in a single swallow. “That would’ve been one crash I wouldn’t have walked away from.”

“The propeller?” Charlie picked up the bottle, offering a refill. Miss Dare shook her head to the offer, and Charlie helped himself.

“It’s wood, you know,” she replied. “Oak. The shank was partially sawn through. Back to front, a couple of inches outside the hub. Could’ve been done with a hacksaw blade.”

Charlie made a low, whistling noise through his teeth.

“Yeah, right.” Miss Dare looked glum. “If I had managed to get off the ground and the blade had snapped off in the air, the plane would have immediately become unflyable. The end of the Texas Star.” She laughed a low, throaty laugh, with no amusement. “A fitting end, some would say. Anyway, the attempt was really very clever. Devilish, you might say. It could have worked—if I hadn’t gotten lucky.”

Now, Lizzy thought, there was an undertone of something in her voice. Fear, was it, that she had almost been killed? Or excitement, at the near miss? She thought of the anonymous letter that Mildred had showed her. A terrible person . . . she must be stopped. She began to wish she had told Charlie about it. Maybe there was a connection between the sabotage and the letters.

“When did this happen?” Charlie asked.

“At some point after I parked the Jenny on Saturday, when the Pensacola show was over. I was planning to take a local photographer up on Sunday afternoon, to get some aerial photos for the local real estate barons. I spotted it then.” She smiled ruefully. “If it had worked, it would have been a two-fer, I’m afraid. Me and my passenger both.”

Charlie frowned. “The plane wasn’t locked up?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Another laugh. “You know what those hangars are. They’re like the shed where I parked the plane this morning. Open to the public. Danny Murphy was supposed to be on watch, but he didn’t see it happen.”

“Rex had access to the shed, of course,” Charlie said.

“I told you,” Miss Dare snapped. “Leave him out of it. He’s not involved. Anyway, there are others on the team. Danny, Scooter, Clem. And Angel, of course.” Half under her breath, she added, “Oh, yes, there’s Angel. Little Miss Show-off. That girl does love the spotlight.”

Charlie nodded. “Right. So how did you happen to notice it? Don’t tell me you routinely check the backside of the propeller.”

“Not hardly. I inspect for chips on the tips and cracks on the leading edge, yes, and I was looking pretty carefully, after that business with the water in the gas tank. But whoever played this particular dirty trick got careless.” She chuckled. “Didn’t bother to clean up the sawdust.”

“Sawdust?” Charlie asked.

She nodded. “I happened to glance down and saw traces of it on the ground—not much, just enough to make me curious. Then it was a matter of looking up to see where it had come from.”

“So you had to replace the prop.”

She nodded. “It arrived yesterday morning, and Rex installed it. He’ll be here in a few hours, with Angel. Danny and Scooter are driving the truck. Clem is flying his Stearman. He doesn’t stunt with it, but if we get a decent crowd, we’ll use it for rides.”

Charlie gave her a narrow look. “Any idea who might have sawn that propeller, Lily?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Miss Dare heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I push myself pretty hard. I push other people pretty hard, too. I don’t exactly leave a string of friends behind me. It could be anybody.”

“Oh, come on, now.” Charlie’s tone was light. “Let’s name a few names. Your husband’s two sons, for instance? Do they still think you cheated them out of their father’s Texas ranch?”

Another sigh, even more exaggerated. “I’m sure they do. But I wasn’t the one who did that to them. It was their daddy. He knew they didn’t give a hoot about the land—unless it had oil on it, which it didn’t. And if he left them money, they’d only use it to get themselves into even worse trouble. But yes, they still blame me, I’m afraid, especially after I lost the ranch.” She chuckled wryly. “And there’s the woman pilot who thought I cheated on the Los Angeles to Cincinnati race last year. She hung around for a while in Tampa, making a nuisance of herself.”

Charlie nodded. “And Pete Rickerts’ brother. Tom—wasn’t that his name?”