The Darling Dahlias and the Eleven O'Clock Lady

“It’s supposed to be a list of people who are due to get government checks through our office at the camp. But I don’t recognize a single name. Do you?” As the owner and manager of the Farm Supply, Jed had business dealings with every farm family in the county, while Ophelia knew everybody in town and most of the people in the county. If he didn’t know them and she didn’t know them, they didn’t exist. It was as simple as that.

He frowned down at the list. “Can’t say that I do, Opie. And the addresses—well, they’re just plain crazy. Some of them are the right names—I mean, they’re the names of county roads—but the numbers are all wrong. And some of the others, I’ve never heard of. Rider Road, for instance. Where the heck is that?” Frowning, he put his finger on the total she had written at the bottom. “These people are collecting twenty-two thousand dollars in government checks? But who the devil are they? Nobody I know.”

Ophelia sat back in her chair. There was only one way to answer Jed’s question, but she almost didn’t believe it, and she didn’t trust herself to give it voice. She was still trying to think of what to say when Sarah came skipping into the kitchen. She was wearing one of her brother’s shirts over her new red wool bathing suit. The loose shirt covered her neck and arms, but her legs were long and lovely—and bare.

Jed blinked. “What in the . . . ?” he barked. “What’s that you’re wearing, Sarah?”

Ophelia thought of Lucy and her slacks and everything she had said. She took a deep breath and replied, with the greatest calmness, “It’s Sarah’s birthday present, Jed. Isn’t it just the most practical bathing suit you ever saw? It’s designed so that a girl can go swimming without worrying about skirts getting all bunched up and twisted. It really didn’t cost that much, and there was enough left over from my last paycheck to take care of it.” To Sarah, she said, “Sarah, honey, thank your father for the present.”

Sarah bent over the back of her father’s chair and put her arms around him. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered, with her cheek against his. “It’s exactly what I wanted—and the very best birthday present ever.”

To the end of her life, Ophelia would be grateful to Jed for swallowing down his objections. She could see what an effort it took, but he managed it. Patting Sarah’s hands against his chest, he said, “I’m glad you got what you wanted, honey. As long as your mother thinks it’s okay, it’s fine with me.” With a crooked grin, he looked across the table at Ophelia. “Remind me, wife. How old is this one? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Thirty? I always lose track.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Sarah scoffed, cuffing him playfully. “You are such a tease. I’m still just a girl, not a grown-up! I just turned fifteen.”

Jed held out his fingers and pretended to count on them. “Well, by golly, you’re right,” he said, as if he was marveling at the fact. “You’re still just fifteen.”

He got up from his chair and put his arms around his daughter. “And see that you remember it,” he added with mock sternness against her hair, and with a wink at Ophelia.


*

The rain was coming down hard when Buddy drove into Camp Briarwood and stopped at the main camp signpost to look for directions to the motor pool. He saw what he was looking for, then turned left and followed the gravel road until he reached a graveled lot on which were parked a couple of trucks, a tractor, and three staff cars. One Harley-Davidson motorcycle and a smaller Indian Ace were parked in a wood-frame shed, where they were out of the rain. Next to the shed was a shack with a sign that said MOTOR POOL over the door.

Before Buddy got out of his patrol car, he checked the gun in his holster, then took the handcuffs out of the box on the floor and clipped them to his belt. Wishful thinking, he told himself. He probably wouldn’t need them. But just in case—

A uniformed young man in his late teens, his blond hair clipped so close to his scalp that he looked almost bald, was sitting on a stool in the motor pool shack, reading. When Buddy opened the door, the man looked up from his comic book—Famous Funnies—and frowned.