The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

Pete Rickerts, Lizzy thought. He was mentioned in the anonymous letter. Pete Rickerts, who crashed his airplane because he was so crazy in love with her.

“Yes.” There was a small frown between her eyes. “Tom Rickerts occasionally sends me nasty little notes. But that’s ancient history, Charlie. A long time ago.”

“Maybe. But Tom is a pilot. Sawing a prop partway through sounds to me like something a pilot would come up with. And if he wasn’t the one, I’m sure you could name a few dozen other men—and women—who have it in for you, for one reason or another.” He paused, lighting another cigarette. “Rex Hart. Tell me more about him. How long have you been together?”

“Don’t start that again,” Miss Dare said, in a warning tone.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just asking.”

She hesitated. “Well, then, we’ve been together for three years—not consecutively, of course. We take the winter months off, then start flying again when the weather warms up. Winters, I go back to the West Coast and pick up stunt flying for the movies. Rex has the flight school in Tampa. That’s where he hangs out in the off-season.”

“Is he married?”

“Several times.” She laughed lightly. “Not to me. And not now.”

Charlie was persistent. “Are you two romantically involved?”

“Not anymore.” Her mouth hardened. “Anyway, that’s none of your business.”

“Agreed. Do you have a mechanic?”

She shook her head. “Rex doesn’t trust anybody else to work on the planes. He’s better than anybody we could hire. And it means less expense, of course. Fuel isn’t cheap. And there are parts to buy. The kind of flying we do—it’s hard on the planes, you know.”

“What about Angel Flame?” Charlie chuckled. “I don’t suppose that’s her real name.”

“Of course not. Her name is Mabel. Mabel Hopkins.”

“Has she been with you since the beginning?”

“No.” Miss Dare’s glance slid away. “No. Our other aerialist had an accident. Mabel—Angel was looking for a job. She’d been coming to our shows, so she knew all the tricks. It was just a matter of getting some experience. She’s an exhibitionist at heart—loves to have people looking at her. And she’s fearless.”

She would have to be, Lizzy thought, to do stunts on an airplane in midair, with no safety net. Fearless . . . or crazy. Or both.

“And what about—”

But he didn’t get to finish. “That’s enough, Charlie.” Miss Dare rolled her eyes impatiently. “I am sick and tired of this silly third degree.”

“That’s too bad,” Charlie said. “You may not take your situation seriously, but I do. Sabotage isn’t the only thing that could happen, you know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Miss Dare rolled her eyes. “Like what else?”

“Like kidnapping,” Charlie replied. “You read the papers, don’t you? The Lindbergh baby isn’t the only victim. The New York Times says there’s a kidnapping wave sweeping the nation—some 400 kidnappings in two years in Illinois alone. A long shot, maybe. But criminals obviously think it’s a good way to get easy money.”

Lizzy frowned. Kidnapping? It might sound far-fetched, but Charlie was right. Times were hard, and people would do almost anything for money. According to the newspapers, Colonel Lindbergh had paid a $50,000 ransom to get his little Charles back, although the baby was already dead. But not all ransom demands were that high. An Atlanta woman had been kidnapped recently and released—unharmed—when her husband paid five hundred dollars. (He said he was glad that they didn’t think she was worth any more than that, because five hundred was all he had.)

Miss Dare’s laugh was short and sharp. “They wouldn’t get much of a ransom for me. There’s no money.”

“Oh, yeah?” Charlie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Hell, Lily, you’re the famous Texas Star. To somebody on the outside, especially somebody who knew you from the old days at the ranch, it looks like there’s plenty of money. You’re the perfect target.”