The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

“Not even for love?” Lizzy ventured, feeling that she had not looked deeply enough into this complicated situation. It was a good thing Verna was here to set her straight.

“Not even for love,” Verna replied firmly. “Roger is not that kind of guy.” She gazed up at the ceiling, tapping a fingernail against her teeth, thinking. After a moment, she said, “But of course there are other possibilities. It could be that our anonymous letter writer is the one who is doing the blackmailing. After all, we don’t know for sure who got the three checks that were written to Lily Star.”

“But I don’t understand,” Lizzy said, puzzled. And then she did. Of course: Lily Star might be, or might not be, Lily Dare. And they had no idea to whom the checks were mailed, or who actually received and cashed them.

“Yes,” she said, slowly. “I think I see.” She looked gratefully at Verna, glad that she had told her everything, even though it meant breaking a confidence. Verna was clever. Like Miss Marple, she saw things that other people failed to see—perhaps because (like Miss Marple) she did not expect the best of everyone.

“Well, good,” Verna said. “So let’s see where we are. We know that Roger Kilgore is sending money to somebody—it could be Miss Dare but it might just as well be somebody else—to keep mum about something. The odds are good that it is his relationship with Miss Dare, which he doesn’t want his wife to know about. She controls the money.”

“She does?” Lizzy asked. “Oh, yes, of course she does. She told me so just yesterday.” It was true. Roger Kilgore might have built up the dealership into the successful business it was—or that it had been before the Crash. But the money to start it had come from Mildred’s father’s cotton fortune. And Mildred was afraid, very afraid, that her money might all be gone soon.

“Of course, Roger could be trying to hide something else altogether.” Verna frowned. “In any case, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already stopped loving that woman, or lusting after her, or whatever his feelings were when he got himself into this tricky situation. He’s no dimwit. He may have already broken it off.”

Lizzy nodded. “He has to know that their relationship is dangerous in a lot of ways. Maybe he’s trying to extricate himself.” On the other hand, maybe Roger was like Miss Dare, who seemed to thrive on danger. Maybe that was what had brought them together in the first place.

She shivered. She couldn’t love someone—truly love him—if she had to worry about the risk involved. Maybe that was why she felt more comfortable with Grady than with Mr. Moseley. Grady was safe, and Mr. Moseley was . . . well, not so safe. Mr. Moseley himself was not a dangerous man, of course—in fact, he was rather conservative and sometimes even stodgy. But there were certainly potential dangers in a relationship with him.

Verna thought for a moment. “And Roger seems not to be the only one dangling from Lily Dare’s string. There are those other men you mentioned.”

“Yes,” Lizzy mused. “The men who ‘support her expensive habits,’ was the way the letter put it.”

Verna stood up and stretched. “I’ve had enough mysteries for one night. I’m going to brush my teeth. Do you want to take the first watch, or shall I?”

“The first watch?” Lizzy asked, still thinking about those other men.

“Two hours, don’t you think? Whoever’s on watch can sit in the rocker beside the window. Miss Dare has her window open, too, so we’re sure to hear if she screams or anything. Why don’t I go first?” She looked at her wristwatch. “It’s ten o’clock. You get some sleep and I’ll wake you at twelve. Then you can be on watch until two. Okay?”

Lizzy began to unbutton her blouse. She was glad that Verna was there to think things through for them and make a plan, since she herself usually just took things as they came.

“But I think we ought to leave our clothes on,” Verna went on. “Just in case we hear something and have to investigate, I mean.” She walked to the window, let up the shade, and looked out. “And for whatever it’s worth, there’s another way out than the stairs,” she remarked, over her shoulder. “We’re only about ten feet off the ground, and there’s a trellis under this window—and the one next door. We could climb down easily.”

Lizzy went to look. “I’m pretty sure Miss Marple would draw the line at climbing down a trellis from a second-story window.”

Verna grinned and pulled down the shade again. “Maybe. But Nancy Drew would be just fine going down, don’t you think? And somebody could certainly climb up. Heigh-ho. I’m off to brush my teeth. Back in a flash and then it’s your turn.”

A little later, back from her turn in the bathroom, Lizzy pulled off her shoes and stretched out, still wearing her clothes, on the pink chenille coverlet on one of the beds. She was dozing off when Verna spoke into the shadowy darkness.