The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree (Berkley Prime Crime)

then pulled the towel off her damp hair and shook it loose. “There’s Pete Crawford and Willy Warren and somebody else ... Can’t remember who; somebody she knew when she worked over in Monroeville. Bunny isn’t just real crazy about him, but he’s got more money than most, so she sees him sometimes.”
    “What about Maxwell Woodburn? Is he the one she met in Monroeville?”
    “Woodburn?” Miss Blake frowned, shaking her head. “No, he’s her pen pal up in Montgomery. He writes to her a lot. But as far as the boys here go, she always says they’re hardly worth thinking about.” She sighed plaintively. “It’s hard these days, you know? A boy maybe likes you, but he doesn’t have the money to take you out, so he doesn’t let on. That he likes you, I mean. And those that have money, you don’t like. I don’t mean you , exactly,” she amended hastily.
    “I’m sure,” Verna said, very glad that she was past all that liking business. She paused for a moment, thinking. “What about the other girls who live here? Are they friends with Bunny? Would they be likely to know where she is?”
    “No, not really,” Miss Blake said. “The home demonstration agent is a lot older, almost an old maid, and the other teacher says Bunny is wild.” She stopped, frowning, sounding worried. “You don’t suppose something’s happened to her, do you? I mean, they ... they haven’t caught that convict yet.”
    “I don’t have any idea,” Verna said honestly. “What do you think?”
    “What do I think?” Miss Blake sighed and rubbed the towel through her hair. “Well, I guess maybe she just got tired of Darling and ran off. She talked about that a lot. She was always threatening to get on the Greyhound and go down to Mobile, or even up to New York. She said she knew a lot about selling cosmetics, and that she could get a job pretty easily, with her looks and all.” She rewrapped her turban. “But it’s kinda funny that she didn’t take her clothes and her jewelry. I mean, if I was leaving town, I’d sure as shootin’ clean out my room and take a suitcase. Wouldn’t you?”
    “Yes, I would,” Verna said, thinking regretfully of the clothes on the floor and the empty suitcase. “I would definitely do that.”

NINE
    Lizzy Makes an Identification
    Lizzy finished up her Monday afternoon work at the usual hour, but Mr. Moseley was still at his desk. In fact, he had been there since right after lunch, working on a stack of documents he had brought into the office with him. He had made several telephone calls direct from his phone without asking Lizzy to get the other party for him, the way he usually did. He kept the door shut while he was talking.
    Usually, Lizzy knew everything that happened in the office, so she was intensely curious. Whatever was going on, it involved Mr. Riley, the certified public accountant who sometimes worked on cases that required an auditor. It also involved Mr. George E. Pickett Johnson, who had already called twice and had sent a packet of papers over from the Savings and Trust in the middle of the afternoon. There had been two or three other calls, as well—the same man each time, but he refused to identify himself and asked to be put straight through to Mr. Moseley, after which Lizzy was instructed to hang up. After the first call, Mr. Moseley told her to cancel the two appointments left on the day’s calendar. She knew that something very mysterious was going on, especially when he was still at his desk at the end of the afternoon.
    Lizzy rapped on his door, and when she heard a grunt, she opened it. “It’s five o’clock and I was thinking of going home. Are you going to want me again today, Mr. Moseley?”
    Mr. Moseley glanced up from his work. His brown hair fell in a boyish shock across his forehead and he pushed it out of his eyes. He had taken off his suit coat, undone his blue tie, and was working with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up on his forearms. His forehead was creased, but his eyes lightened when he saw her.
    “I’ll always want you, Liz,” he said, in a joking tone. “You know that”
    Lizzy felt herself blushing. She understood that it was just his way of saying that she was a good secretary and he liked her work, but his tone made the compliment sound more ... well, more personal than he probably meant. It was disconcerting. It renewed the romantic dreams she had folded and put carefully away, like old linens closed in a drawer with