The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

Raylene sighed. “I don’t like to make a big point of it,” she said at last. “It’s relatively easy when it comes to knowing what people want—like Lily’s pulled pork sandwich, or your friend’s sausage and grits casserole. When somebody wants something, there’s always a great deal of . . . well, energy around the wanting. So it’s easy to get the message—sort of like turning on a radio, to a station that comes through loud and clear.”


“I suppose it works better with a Ouija board,” Verna remarked ironically.

“Yes, sometimes.” Raylene smiled. “It’s okay to be skeptical about it, Verna.” She spoke as if she understood Verna’s feelings. “Lots of people don’t understand how it works. Lots more don’t believe—or don’t want to, which amounts to the same thing. And even psychics themselves aren’t always very happy with it.”

Liz cleared her throat. “But if you know what somebody like Donna Sue wants to eat for breakfast, surely you know who wrote the letters and sent the telegrams.” She paused, then added, “And who sabotaged Lily’s airplane.”

“Yeah.” Verna chuckled dryly. “Why are we sitting around wondering who’s behind all of this? Why don’t you just tell us, Raylene? Let us in on the secret?”

“Verna, please.” Liz put her hand on Verna’s arm. “Let’s just . . . listen. Okay?” To Raylene, she said, “Please, tell us whatever you think we ought to know so we can help to get this all cleared up.”

Raylene hesitated. “Well, it’s complicated,” she said, after a moment. “There are some things I know for sure. The easy things that people want you to know, or have no special reason to hide. But other things . . . well, they’re not so easy. This business we’re talking about, the letters and the telegrams and the sabotage—somebody is trying to hide what’s going on. There’s a lot of conflict, even guilt. The energies are all confused and contradictory. It’s like static on a radio. And remember that I heard about all this for the first time last night, from Lily—who is blaming Rex Hart for everything.”

Verna stared at Raylene, wanting to flatly refuse to give any credence to such out-and-out nonsense but at the same time, feeling an odd desire to hear more.

Liz was nodding. “Yes, I can see that,” she said. “It’s all very complex. Lots of layers. It would take a while to get to the truth.”

Raylene leaned forward. “But I am sure of what I know about Rex Hart and Sarah. I know why they haven’t told Lily. And since I know that much, I have to question what Lily says. If Rex isn’t in love with her, he has no reason to be jealous. No motive for writing anonymous letters or sending telegrams asking for money.”

Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate, Verna thought. If there was no passion, then there’d be no jealousy—or hate. Right?

Liz sighed. “Which leaves us with the big question, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Verna said. “If Rex Hart didn’t do it, who did? Who cares enough to do things like that?”

With a thoughtful expression, Raylene turned her coffee mug in her fingers. “Let me tell you a little story. Before Mabel Hopkins joined the flying team—”

“Mabel Hopkins?” Verna interrupted.

“That’s Angel Flame’s real name,” Liz told her. “I guess she thought she needed a more exotic name, as a performer.”

“I can understand that,” Verna muttered. “‘Mabel Hopkins’ Dive of Death’ sounds like a joke, not an aerial stunt.”

“Before Mabel joined the team,” Raylene went on, “Lily and Rex worked with another aerialist, a young woman named Bess. She was very good, one of the best, Rex used to say. She was strong, with excellent coordination, and she’d trained as a trapeze artist in the circus. She had no fear, so wingwalking was easy for her.”

“I heard Miss Dare telling Charlie Dickens about her,” Liz said. “But she had an accident and had to quit, didn’t she?”

“She had an accident and died,” Raylene said gravely. “They were doing an air show in Tampa. Bess was hanging from a trapeze under Lily’s plane during one of the stunts. One side of the trapeze broke loose from the plane and she fell to the ground. She was killed instantly.”

“Oh, dear,” Liz said. Her hand went to her mouth.

“It’s a hazardous profession,” Verna said. “The fatality rate must be pretty high. But I don’t see—”

“Bess was Mabel’s sister,” Raylene said. “Mabel was in the crowd, watching, when the trapeze let go and Bess fell.”

There was a silence. After a moment, Liz said, very slowly, “Are you suggesting that Angel Flame—Mabel—could be responsible for the letters and the telegrams?”

“She certainly has a motive,” Raylene said. “When the accident first happened, Mabel was distraught, understandably. I was in the crowd, too. I heard her say that Lily was responsible for what happened—that she didn’t maintain the equipment the way she should. That’s why I was surprised when I heard, a couple of months later, that Mabel had taken her sister’s place as an aerialist for the team.” She smiled. “You see? Even psychics don’t know everything.”