The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

Angel uncapped the pen and scribbled swiftly across the flier, To Annie, with all best wishes from your friend, Angel Flame.

Lizzy let out her breath in a long puff. “Oh, my,” she said, admiring the inscription—and blessing Angel Flame’s desire to show off. “Purple ink!”

“Yeah, I like to use it for letters and stuff,” Angel said carelessly. “I have some pink paper, too, which I use for letters sometimes.” She handed the flier back to Verna. “Kinda gives it a personal touch, you know?” she added. “A little bit of individual flair. Not too many people use purple ink and pink paper.”

“You’re right about that,” Verna said emphatically. “It is certainly distinctive.” And with that, she reached into the car and took out the anonymous letter Mildred had given them a little while before. “But here’s something interesting, Angel. A friend of ours got a couple of letters in the past few months from someone she didn’t know. This is one of them. And it’s written in the same purple ink you’re using—on pink paper, of all things!”

Watching Angel’s face, Lizzy saw her eyes widen.

But Verna was going on. “And look—isn’t this strange? The way you’ve written ‘with all best wishes from your friend’ on the flier? It’s exactly the same as the same phrase in this letter! And it’s written in exactly the same way. See how the t is crossed with a little flourish? And the fs have those funny little short tails? The similarities are so amazing—why, I think you must have written it!”

Angel’s mouth tightened and a muscle in her jaw was working. “Where’d you get that?” she demanded. “Give it to me!” She tried to snatch the letter away.

“Not so fast, Angel,” Lizzy said, pulling at Angel’s arm as Verna stepped back, out of reach. “You can’t have that letter. It belongs to Mildred Kilgore. Roger Kilgore’s wife—the woman you sent it to.”

Angel sucked in her breath. Under her freckles, her face had gone ashen, with blotches of ugly red high on her cheeks. She looked uncertain and afraid, as if she were struggling to keep her balance on a shifting airplane wing.

“And there’s more,” Verna went on calmly. “These three canceled checks, made out by Roger Kilgore to someone named Lily Star—to Lily Dare, he thought.” She held them up. “But Lily Dare never got the money, did she, Angel? And what’s so interesting about these checks is that they’ve been endorsed with that same distinctive purple ink you used in the letters—and in the inscription just now.” She shook her head pityingly. “You weren’t so clever after all, Angel. You’ve left a trail a mile wide.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed and her anger overwhelmed her uncertainty. “Give me those!” she snapped menacingly. “Do you think I’m going to let you pull a cheap trick like that on me?” She lunged free of Lizzy and grabbed for the checks in Verna’s hand. When Verna held on to them, Angel punched her in the face, then slammed her, hard, against the wall of the shed, pinning her with a strong forearm across her throat. “Give me those checks,” she growled, “or I’ll break your stupid neck!”

Verna gasped futilely for air, trying to wrench Angel’s arm from her throat, but the wingwalker, athletic and years younger, was too strong for her.

“Lay off!” Lizzy cried. Frantic, she grabbed Angel’s hair and jerked her sharply back. “Verna can’t breathe! You’re hurting—”

She was stopped with a fist in the eye, as Angel swung sharply around and hit her, hard, with all the force of her swinging body. Stunned, Lizzy saw an explosion of stars against a canopy of velvety black. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled flat on the ground.

“Hey!” Buddy Norris yelled, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. His deputy’s badge was pinned conspicuously on his khaki shirt. “That’s enough of that!” He knelt beside Lizzy. “Are you okay, Liz?” he asked and helped her sit up.

“I . . . I think so,” Lizzy gulped, trying not to cry. She put a hand to her eye, which hurt fiercely. When she pulled it away, her fingers were smeared with bright red blood. Her cheek was bleeding.

“You’ve got a little cut,” Buddy said sympathetically, and pulled out his handkerchief, dabbing it gently to her face. “Sorry to be delayed,” he said. “I got tied up on a long-distance telephone call.” He handed her the handkerchief. “You okay now?” When she nodded, he helped her to her feet.

Angel’s menace had abruptly disappeared. “Oh, Buddy,” she cried, going to him and putting her hand on his arm. She smiled sweetly up at him. “Gosh, Buddy, you’ve got great timing! These two women have something that belongs to me and I’ve been trying to convince them to give it back.” Her smile became flirtatious. “I’m sure they’ll do whatever you say. Please tell them to hand over my stuff!”

“What kind of stuff?” Buddy asked.