The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

“Damn!” Roger exclaimed, flabbergasted. “You slugged me, Lily! Right in the eye!”


“You bet I slugged you!” Miss Dare cried. “And I’ll do it again. Get out of my room or I’ll start screaming. That’ll bring your sweet little wifey running.”

Roger apparently took her at her word, for the door opened and shut and heavy footsteps stomped down the hall.

After a moment, the silence in the other room was broken by a frenzied sobbing.

“Do you think we’d better go and see if she’s okay?” Lizzy asked worriedly. “I promised Charlie that we’d make sure—”

“Maybe just one of us,” Verna said. “You go, Liz. I haven’t even been introduced to her. In fact, I’ve never even laid eyes on the woman.”

At Miss Dare’s room, Lizzy didn’t bother to knock; she just pushed the door open and went in. In the shadowy darkness, she could see that the lady, wearing a glamorous lace-trimmed peach nightgown, had thrown herself across the bed, face down. She was weeping noisily.

Lizzy leaned over the woman and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s Liz,” she said. “Liz Lacy. We had lunch together—remember? I’m in the room next door and I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you? Is there anything I can do?”

Miss Dare gulped back a sob and struggled to sit up. “Oh, yeah. Liz. You’re my babysitter, aren’t you? My protector.” Her dark hair was disheveled, her face was splotched and puffy, and there was a purple-green bruise under her left eye. “Well, there’s nothing you can do unless you know a sure cure for a shiner.” She looked down at her right arm, where three finger marks were an ugly red against the pale skin. “And a twisted arm,” she added bitterly. “I’m just lucky that stupid lug didn’t break it. He certainly tried hard enough. I thought he was going to pull it right out of the socket.”

Lizzy persisted. “You’re sure you’re okay? You wouldn’t like a glass of water?” She looked at Miss Dare’s eye. “Or a cold washcloth for that eye or—”

“Whiskey,” Miss Dare said optimistically. She touched her eye with a tender finger. “If you haven’t got that, brandy will do. Or rum.”

“Sorry,” Lizzy replied. “I don’t have any booze. And I don’t know where Roger keeps it.”

“Well, then, you’re not much good, are you, honey?” Sniffling, Miss Dare got up and went to the dresser, where she opened her brown leather handbag, took out a small brown cigar, and came back to the bed and sat down, crossing her bare legs.

“But maybe you know something about those checks Roger and his missus keep talking about,” she went on, swinging one foot, shod in a peach-colored satin mule with a fluffy peach pompom. She added darkly, “I’d sure like to find out whose big pockets that nine hundred smackeroos went into—especially since somebody got that cash by using my name.”

Lizzy shook her head. “I heard, yes,” she admitted. “But I don’t know any more than you do, I’m afraid.” Then, timidly, she ventured a question. “Do you have any idea who might have sent those telegrams? Or written the letters?”

Miss Dare reached for a matchbook on the nightstand. “Actually, I have a pretty good idea who did it,” she said, in a low, angry voice. “In fact, I’m about ninety-nine percent sure. And I’ve had just about all I can take from—”

She struck a match and held it to the cigar, but her hand was shaking so hard that the match went out. She tried again, with another match.

“I intend to settle some hash over this,” she added savagely, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Settle some hash. Who did Miss Dare suspect? Was it Rex Hart? If she thought he sent the telegrams, did she suspect him of writing the anonymous letters and sending the photograph? And sabotaging her airplane, too? But Lizzy didn’t feel that she could ask those important questions. Lamely, she said, “Well, if you need me in the night, just yell. I’m right next door. I can be here in a few seconds—faster, if you’ll unbolt the door between our rooms.”

“I am not unbolting any doors, baby doll.” Miss Dare looked straight at her, her eyes hard. “Go back to bed and go to sleep. And don’t bother me again, no matter what you think you hear in this room. You got that?”

“But I promised Charlie—” Lizzy began.

“I don’t care what the hell you promised Charlie,” Miss Dare said icily. “And you can tell him I said so. I resent being looked after. And I don’t like knowing that there’s a spy in the room next door, eavesdropping on my private conversations. Get out. Now.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzy said, feeling like a little girl who’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Miss Dare was making a very valid point. She backed toward the door. “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”