The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

by Susan Wittig Albert

  Miss Dare studied his face as if she suspected that he was making fun of her. She must have decided he wasn’t, for her voice softened and she said, “It’s nice to have somebody worry about me for a change, Charlie. Nobody else does.” Her tone became bitter. “Nobody cares, not really.”

  That couldn’t be true, Lizzy thought. Roger cared. She remembered the photo Mildred had shown her—and then his clumsy step backward, his efforts to keep his distance. But perhaps he no longer cared, or cared as much. Perhaps he was afraid she would compromise him.

  But Charlie was thinking of someone else. He pulled on his cigarette. “What about Rex Hart? Doesn’t he care? He may be ‘King of the Air’ but you’re the Texas Star, the act that everybody comes to see.” He chuckled cynically. “If anything happens to you, Hart’s out of luck, isn’t he?” He paused. “Or maybe it’s the other way around. If you crash, he’ll be the star of the show, won’t he? He—”

  “That’s enough, Charlie,” Miss Dare said sharply. She turned her head away, but not before Lizzy saw the pain on her face and guessed that Charlie had hit close to the truth—and it hurt. “Let’s leave Rex out of it.”

  “Why?” Charlie prodded. “Because you know he’s up to something and you want to handle it yourself?”

  “Because I say so.” She laughed under her breath, a jagged, grating laugh. “Like I said, Charlie. Most people come to the shows for thrills. They’re hoping to see me crash. Or even better, to see Rex and me collide in midair while Angel is wingwalking and all three of us go down in flames. That would give you newspaper guys something sensational to write about, wouldn’t it?”

  Charlie sat back in his chair. He took a deep breath, then went back to his question. “What happened to the Jenny?” His tone was more neutral now.

  “Well, since you’ve asked so nicely.” Miss Dare put out her cigar in the ashtray on the desk. “It was tampered with. Twice. The first time, it was the old water-in-the-fuel-tank trick.”

  “Where?” Charlie asked. “When?”

  “In Tampa, where we did a show several weeks ago, from the airfield where Rex runs his flight school. I checked before I took off, of course, but something like that is pretty hard to catch. I was able to put the plane down in a plowed field. The wings were damaged but I walked away—which makes it a successful landing.” She gave a short, dry cough. “When I told the little girl at your airfield that I’ve never crashed, I lied. I’ve had my share of hard landings. But as long as I can walk away from it, I don’t consider it a crash. A crash is when you die.”

  Outside the window, the lightning flashed like a flashbulb going off. Listening, Lizzy shivered. Miss Dare’s voice was flat and uninflected, without a hint of fear. Were the woman’s nerves really that steely? But she had probably been in many frightening situations during her flying career. She must have developed a certain indifference to danger, trusting to skill, or to luck, to get her through. Maybe she even courted danger, finding that it provided the excitement, the thrills and chills she needed to keep her going. And maybe she needed a big dose of excitement in her personal life, as well, so she took pleasure in risky relationships. Lizzy shivered again.

  Charlie frowned. “You said the plane was tampered with twice. Once in Tampa—and once in Pensacola?”

  “Yes,” Miss Dare said. “In retrospect, I’m glad that the Tampa thing happened. It wasn’t fatal, luckily, and I knew it wasn’t an accident. It put me on the alert. The second time—well, if I hadn’t checked the propeller, I would have been a goner for sure.” She tossed back the rest of her whiskey in a single swallow. “That would’ve been one crash I wouldn’t have walked away from.”

  “The propeller?” Charlie picked up the bottle, offering a refill. Miss Dare shook her head to the offer, and Charlie helped himself.

  “It’s wood, you know,” she replied. “Oak. The shank was partially sawn through. Back to front, a couple of inches outside the hub. Could’ve been done with a hacksaw blade.”

  Charlie made a low, whistling noise through his teeth.

  “Yeah, right.” Miss Dare looked glum. “If I had managed to get off the ground and the blade had snapped off in the air, the plane would have immediately become unflyable. The end of the Texas Star.” She laughed a low, throaty laugh, with no amusement. “A fitting end, some would say. Anyway, the attempt was really very clever. Devilish, you might say. It could have worked—if I hadn’t gotten lucky.”

  Now, Lizzy thought, there was an undertone of something in her voice. Fear, was it, that she had almost been killed? Or excitement, at the near miss? She thought of the anonymous letter that Mildred had showed her. A terrible person . . . she must be stopped. She began to wish she had told Charlie about it. Maybe there was a connection between the sabotage and the letters.

  “When did this happen?” Charlie asked.

  “At some point after I parked the Jenny on Saturday, when the Pensacola show was over. I was planning to take a local photographer up on Sunday afternoon, to get some aerial photos for the local real estate barons. I spotted it then.” She smiled ruefully. “If it had worked, it would have been a two-fer, I’m afraid. Me and my passenger both.”

  Charlie frowned. “The plane wasn’t locked up?”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding.” Another laugh. “You know what those hangars are. They’re like the shed where I parked the plane this morning. Open to the public. Danny Murphy was supposed to be on watch, but he didn’t see it happen.”

  “Rex had access to the shed, of course,” Charlie said.

  “I told you,” Miss Dare snapped. “Leave him out of it. He’s not involved. Anyway, there are others on the team. Danny, Scooter, Clem. And Angel, of course.” Half under her breath, she added, “Oh, yes, there’s Angel. Little Miss Show-off. That girl does love the spotlight.”

  Charlie nodded. “Right. So how did you happen to notice it? Don’t tell me you routinely check the backside of the propeller.”

  “Not hardly. I inspect for chips on the tips and cracks on the leading edge, yes, and I was looking pretty carefully, after that business with the water in the gas tank. But whoever played this particular dirty trick got careless.” She chuckled. “Didn’t bother to clean up the sawdust.”

  “Sawdust?” Charlie asked.

  She nodded. “I happened to glance down and saw traces of it on the ground—not much, just enough to make me curious. Then it was a matter of looking up to see where it had come from.”

  “So you had to replace the prop.”

  She nodded. “It arrived yesterday morning, and Rex installed it. He’ll be here in a few hours, with Angel. Danny and Scooter are driving the truck. Clem is flying his Stearman. He doesn’t stunt with it, but if we get a decent crowd, we’ll use it for rides.”

  Charlie gave her a narrow look. “Any idea who might have sawn that propeller, Lily?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Miss Dare heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I push myself pretty hard. I push other people pretty hard, too. I don’t exactly leave a string of friends behind me. It could be anybody.”

  “Oh, come on, now.” Charlie’s tone was light. “Let’s name a few names. Your husband’s two sons, for instance? Do they still think you cheated them out of their father’s Texas ranch?”

  Another sigh, even more exaggerated. “I’m sure they do. But I wasn’t the one who did that to them. It was their daddy. He knew they didn’t give a hoot about the land—unless it had oil on it, which it didn’t. And if he left them money, they’d only use it to get themselves into even worse trouble. But yes, they still blame me, I’m afraid, especially after I lost the ranch.” She chuckled wryly. “And there’s the woman pilot who thought I cheated on the Los Angeles to Cincinnati race last year. She hung around for a while in Tampa, making a nuisance of herself.”

  Charlie nodded. “And Pete Rickerts’ brother. Tom—wasn’t that his name?”

/>   Pete Rickerts, Lizzy thought. He was mentioned in the anonymous letter. Pete Rickerts, who crashed his airplane because he was so crazy in love with her.

  “Yes.” There was a small frown between her eyes. “Tom Rickerts occasionally sends me nasty little notes. But that’s ancient history, Charlie. A long time ago.”

  “Maybe. But Tom is a pilot. Sawing a prop partway through sounds to me like something a pilot would come up with. And if he wasn’t the one, I’m sure you could name a few dozen other men—and women—who have it in for you, for one reason or another.” He paused, lighting another cigarette. “Rex Hart. Tell me more about him. How long have you been together?”

  “Don’t start that again,” Miss Dare said, in a warning tone.

  “I’m not starting anything. I’m just asking.”

  She hesitated. “Well, then, we’ve been together for three years—not consecutively, of course. We take the winter months off, then start flying again when the weather warms up. Winters, I go back to the West Coast and pick up stunt flying for the movies. Rex has the flight school in Tampa. That’s where he hangs out in the off-season.”

  “Is he married?”

  “Several times.” She laughed lightly. “Not to me. And not now.”

  Charlie was persistent. “Are you two romantically involved?”

  “Not anymore.” Her mouth hardened. “Anyway, that’s none of your business.”

  “Agreed. Do you have a mechanic?”

  She shook her head. “Rex doesn’t trust anybody else to work on the planes. He’s better than anybody we could hire. And it means less expense, of course. Fuel isn’t cheap. And there are parts to buy. The kind of flying we do—it’s hard on the planes, you know.”

  “What about Angel Flame?” Charlie chuckled. “I don’t suppose that’s her real name.”

  “Of course not. Her name is Mabel. Mabel Hopkins.”

  “Has she been with you since the beginning?”

  “No.” Miss Dare’s glance slid away. “No. Our other aerialist had an accident. Mabel—Angel was looking for a job. She’d been coming to our shows, so she knew all the tricks. It was just a matter of getting some experience. She’s an exhibitionist at heart—loves to have people looking at her. And she’s fearless.”

  She would have to be, Lizzy thought, to do stunts on an airplane in midair, with no safety net. Fearless . . . or crazy. Or both.

  “And what about—”

  But he didn’t get to finish. “That’s enough, Charlie.” Miss Dare rolled her eyes impatiently. “I am sick and tired of this silly third degree.”

  “That’s too bad,” Charlie said. “You may not take your situation seriously, but I do. Sabotage isn’t the only thing that could happen, you know.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Miss Dare rolled her eyes. “Like what else?”

  “Like kidnapping,” Charlie replied. “You read the papers, don’t you? The Lindbergh baby isn’t the only victim. The New York Times says there’s a kidnapping wave sweeping the nation—some 400 kidnappings in two years in Illinois alone. A long shot, maybe. But criminals obviously think it’s a good way to get easy money.”

  Lizzy frowned. Kidnapping? It might sound far-fetched, but Charlie was right. Times were hard, and people would do almost anything for money. According to the newspapers, Colonel Lindbergh had paid a $50,000 ransom to get his little Charles back, although the baby was already dead. But not all ransom demands were that high. An Atlanta woman had been kidnapped recently and released—unharmed—when her husband paid five hundred dollars. (He said he was glad that they didn’t think she was worth any more than that, because five hundred was all he had.)

  Miss Dare’s laugh was short and sharp. “They wouldn’t get much of a ransom for me. There’s no money.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Charlie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Hell, Lily, you’re the famous Texas Star. To somebody on the outside, especially somebody who knew you from the old days at the ranch, it looks like there’s plenty of money. You’re the perfect target.”

  “Plenty of money. That’s a laugh!” Miss Dare’s face darkened. “You want to know the real story, Charlie? The money’s all gone, every cent of it. The Dare Devils Flying Circus is flat broke. Rex and me, we’re in hock up to our eyeballs to family, friends, sweethearts—anybody we can squeeze for a little cash to keep the planes in the air. We live hand to mouth. Every dollar we earn goes into fuel and repairs. The new propeller? The money came from Angel—no idea where in the hell she got it. Most nights, we’re so broke we can’t even afford a room in a fleabag hotel. We sleep with the airplanes. You better believe I’m looking forward to sleeping in a bed tonight—haven’t slept in one for a couple of weeks. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get a bath in a real bathtub, and I can actually wash my hair.” She laughed harshly. “The idea that somebody would try to squeeze a ransom out of us—it’s just crazy, that’s all. You’re a lunatic.”

  Lizzy was listening with amazement. The famous Lily Dare was broke? The woman who flew stunts for the movies? The fastest woman in the world? But maybe that’s where Roger Kilgore’s nine hundred dollars had gone—to keep the Flying Circus in the air.

  “Well, if you’re broke, you manage to hide it pretty well,” Charlie said wryly. “Nobody would guess. And crazy or not, here’s what’s happening. I’m taking you to the movie tonight. I’ve also arranged for a couple of ladies—Liz Lacy and Verna Tidwell—to keep an eye on you. They’ll be staying at the Kilgores’ while you’re here. But don’t worry, they won’t get in your way. You won’t even know they’re there.”

  “Keep an eye on me?” Miss Dare gave an unpleasant laugh. “That’s sweet, but really, Charlie. I may be down and out, but I can take care of myself. I always have, you know.”

  “And I’ll be out at the airfield overnight, with the planes,” Charlie went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “If that dirty trickster follows you to Darling, he’s not going to get a chance at a repeat performance.”

  Lizzy remembered that Rex Hart planned to stay at the airfield, too, and understood that Charlie would be watching him, as well as the planes.

  Miss Dare shook her head. “I really don’t think this is necessary, Charlie. I—”

  But Charlie was firm. “You can risk your life in the air all you want, Lily. That’s your business. But regardless of what happened between us—or maybe because of it—when you’re on the ground here in Darling, I’m making you my responsibility. You and your airplane. And that’s all there is to it.” He grinned. “If you want to, you can chalk it up to my being crazy.”

  Miss Dare gave in, grudgingly. “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I’ll have to accept. You’re sweet, Charlie. Regardless of the past, you’ll always have a special spot in my heart.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, and then again, her arms around his neck, her lips against his. Charlie pulled back, which seemed to surprise her.

  “What’s the matter, Charlie?” she teased. “You’ve found yourself another girl? One of your local pretties, I suppose. Is she letting you off your leash for the weekend?”

  With a sinking feeling, Lizzy thought again of Fannie Champaign. How was she going to feel when she saw Charlie squiring Miss Dare around town?

  Charlie chuckled without amusement. “Now, now, Lily, don’t be catty. It’s not becoming.” He glanced up at the clock, then out the window. “Hey, it’s time we got you something to eat. Anything special you have in mind? We don’t have a lot of options, though,” he added. “Darling is pretty small.”

  Miss Dare had a ready answer. “Well, to tell the truth, it’s been a while since I’ve had a decent meal. Do you suppose I could get a pulled pork sandwich? I used to know a hotel chef who made that, with some sort of white sauce, and it was delicious.”

  Charlie put the whiskey bottle and empty glasses back in the drawer, and stood up. “I like pulled pork,
too, but we’d have to drive over to Buzz’s Barbeque in Monroeville to get it. It’s not on the menu at the diner, and anyway, their regular cook quit. Dunno who’s cooking there today—probably won’t be much good.” He glanced toward the window. “Looks like the rain has let up. We could walk across the square to the Old Alabama Hotel. I’m sure we can get something decent there.”

  Lizzy stood, too, glad to take a lunch break. Breakfast seemed like a long time ago and she was hungry. “The diner has a new cook,” she offered, stepping forward. “I’m told she’s very good. Even better than Euphoria.”

  Charlie and Miss Dare both looked startled, and Lizzy knew that they had indeed forgotten that she was there.

  “Better than Euphoria?” Charlie repeated with a skeptical lift of his eyebrow. “I’ll have to see that for myself.”

  “I’ll eat anything,” Miss Dare said hungrily. “Just so I get some food.”

  And a change of subject, Lizzy thought. It was obvious that the Texas Star didn’t want to talk about the people who might have a serious grudge against her—might even be angry enough to try to kill her. And from what she had heard, the list could be a long one.

  Usually, a hard rain settled Darling’s dust, washed and cooled the air, and brought relief from the summer heat. But this rain seemed to have been poured out of a teakettle that had been sitting on the back of the stove all day, keeping warm. The puddles steamed, the sun peered resentfully through a sweltering haze, and the air was so oppressively hot that Lizzy could scarcely get her breath. The flag on the courthouse pole across the street hung limply as a wet dishrag.

  The diner was nearly empty when the three of them walked in. The Dr Pepper clock on the wall under the neon Coca-Cola sign announced that it was one fifteen. Earlynne Biddle’s boy Bennie was still clearing the tables, Myra May was straightening up after what looked to have been a very busy noon meal, and in the kitchen, Lizzy could hear the murmur of voices and the clatter of china plates being washed in the sink. There was a delectable smell of roasting meat in the air.