The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

Miss Dare didn’t reply. Lizzy left her, sitting on the bed, smoking and swinging that peach satin mule. As she went into the hall, she saw Angel Flame’s door close and wondered uncomfortably how much she had heard.

Back in their bedroom, Verna was waiting. “I guess that wasn’t such a good idea, huh?” she said quietly. “How is she?”

“She’s in pretty bad shape,” Lizzy replied. “Black eye, bruised arm. She was so shaky that she could barely light that cigar of hers.”

“Cigar?” Verna frowned.

“Cigar,” Lizzy said. “And I think she’s right, Verna. Regardless of why we were doing it, we shouldn’t be eavesdropping on her private conversations. I’m turning in now. And I don’t care what happens next door—even if somebody gets shot—I am not getting out of this bed.” She pulled her green cotton nightgown out of the dresser drawer. “And I am sleeping in my nightgown,” she said pointedly, beginning to undress.

Verna considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Our hearts were in the right place, but I guess you’re right.” Her grin was lopsided. “Just out of curiosity, though, tell me what she wears to sleep in.”

“A see-through peach negligee trimmed with lace,” Lizzy said. “And peach-colored satin mules on her feet. Like a Hollywood starlet. She may be broke, but she sleeps in style.” She turned back the pink coverlet and crawled into bed. “Whatever happens can happen without me. Good night.”

As she fell asleep, she wondered if Miss Marple ever regretted snooping into the private affairs of anyone in St. Mary Mead—and whether she’d gotten into serious trouble when she was doing it. Maybe she should write to Miss Agatha Christie and ask.

Lizzy was wakened from a sound sleep by the insistent hammering of a woodpecker in the sycamore tree outside the window. The sun was brightening the room and the inviting smell of bacon and coffee wafted through the early morning air. As she opened her eyes, she saw that Verna was already up and dressed.

“It’s seven o’clock on a Friday,” Verna announced briskly, “and I’m a working girl. I have to get to the courthouse, so I’ll just skip breakfast here. I can pick up something quick at the diner.”

Lizzy sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “You’re skipping breakfast here because you don’t want to face the awkwardness,” she said accusingly, thinking of what was ahead. “Mildred, Roger, and Miss Dare across the breakfast table. Oh, and Angel Flame, too.”

“Doesn’t sound like much fun,” Verna agreed soberly. “Maybe we shouldn’t have listened in last night, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are three pretty unhappy people in this house this morning.”

“Make that four.” Lizzy swung her feet onto the floor. “I’m going to tell Charlie that Miss Dare doesn’t need a Miss Marple—or a nanny, either. She can take care of herself. Which means I won’t be sleeping over here after the party tonight.” The party, she thought forlornly, to which Grady was bringing the beautiful DeeDee Davis. But at least she hadn’t dreamed about her again.

Verna nodded slowly. “I won’t either, then. Shall I let Mildred know, or will you?”

“I will,” Lizzy said. “I’m sure it will be okay if we leave our clothes, though. We can dress here for the party.”

“Good idea,” Verna said, picking up her handbag. “Thank Mildred for the hospitality, will you? I’ll see you later today.” At the door, she paused. “Oh, and I’ll leave your bicycle out front. You’ll want it today, I’m sure.”

Lizzy combed her hair, dressed in slacks and her red print blouse, and added a touch of red lipstick. Then she went downstairs to the breakfast room, where a table was spread with a snowy white damask cloth and centered with a crystal bowl of pink roses. It was set for five.

But Mildred, wearing a lilac-colored sundress, was the only person there. Her eye was puffed and purpled, although it wasn’t nearly as bad as Miss Dare’s had been last night.

“Oh, dear,” Lizzy said quietly. “Oh, Mildred, your poor eye. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, I’m not,” Mildred replied staunchly. “I gave as good as I got—and maybe some better, too. You overheard the whole thing, I suppose.”

Ollie Rose, wearing her starched black uniform and white cap, brought in a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits and set it down on the table.

“Thank you, Ollie Rose,” Mildred said. She picked up the silver coffeepot. “Coffee, Liz?”

“Thank you.” Lizzy held out her cup as Mildred poured. “Yes, I overheard,” she confessed somewhat guiltily.

“And you overheard Roger’s conversation with her?” Mildred giggled. “I don’t think it went quite the way he expected. You should see his eye.”