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

possibility that Bunny had been assaulted. “Oh, come on, Lizzy. I’m sure Grady wouldn’t—”
    “No, he wouldn’t. He’s a gentleman.” Lizzy’s smile was crooked. “But I might. I’m sorely tempted.”
    Verna chuckled. “Would that be such a bad thing? I mean, Grady is sexy as all get-out. Not bad-looking, either. And he’s got a real job. Pays real money.”
    Lizzy screwed up her mouth. “You’re so practical, Verna.”
    “Hell, yes, I’m practical,” Verna said shortly. “That’s what it takes to get along in this world. Try falling for a hobo and see how long that lasts, kiddo.”
    “I know, I know.” Lizzy sighed. “Just the same ... I mean, I’m not a prude, and neither is Grady. But I know him. If we have sex, he’ll start pushing me to marry him. He’s old-fashioned that way. But I’ve got my own house, and a yard and a garden, and it’s all just the way I want it. I enjoy my job, and I like earning my own money.” She paused. “Grady’s old-fashioned about money, too. He’d probably insist on being the breadwinner and want me to stay home and be a house-wife. Maybe it sounds selfish, but ...”
    “It’s not selfish at all,” Verna said warmly. “Living alone gets a little lonely sometimes, but being your own boss can make up for a lot. If you’re lonely, Lizzy, get a dog. Clyde never gets drunk, always shows up for dinner on time, and doesn’t run around with other women.” She paused, smiling a little. “What about Mr. Moseley? You used to carry a flaming torch for him, didn’t you?”
    Lizzy rolled her eyes. “That was years ago, Verna. Years and years. It’s all over now, absolutely and utterly. My heart is safe. I couldn’t care less about Benton Moseley.”
    Verna gave her a skeptical glance. “You’re sure about that?”
    “Don’t be silly, Verna,” Lizzy scoffed. “Mr. Moseley is married.”
    “It looks like that didn’t stop Bunny,” Verna said, half under her breath, as the courthouse clock began to chime. “Oops. I have to get back to work. The boss is supposed to come in this afternoon.”
    “Me, too,” Lizzy replied. “You can quit worrying your head about me and Mr. Moseley, Verna. But thanks for the advice about Grady. I do appreciate it.”
    “It’s worth what you paid for it,” Verna said carelessly. She looked back over her shoulder at the drugstore. “Listen, Liz—how about if we get together after work and walk over to the Limas’ house?”
    “Why? If Mr. Lima is out of town, Mrs. Lima probably went with him. If she didn’t, she likely won’t talk to us. If they’re both gone, it’ll be a waste of time.”
    “Maybe,” Verna said. “But you never know. We might learn something. You don’t have to come along, of course. I just thought—”
    “No, that’s okay,” Lizzy said. “Give me a call or stop by the office when you’re finished for the day, and I’ll go with you.” She grinned. “You know, Clyde is really cute. Does he have a brother?”

FIFTEEN
    Mr. Moseley Makes an Unexpected Proposition
    When Lizzy got back to the office, Mr. Moseley’s office door was propped open. He was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on an open desk drawer, eating a sandwich. There was a brown bottle on the desk beside him, and a glass. Whiskey. Lizzy knew that he kept a bottle and a couple of glasses in his office, to be able to have a drink with friends when they dropped in. She had never seen him drink alone.
    “Liz,” he called. “Could you come in here for a few minutes, please?”
    Hurriedly, Lizzy picked up her steno pad and pencil. She went into his office and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. She couldn’t help thinking of that invoice from Ettlinger’s, but she wasn’t going to bring that up. It would likely provoke a worse storm than this morning. But there was something else she needed to ask.
    “Have you heard anything about Alice Ann Walker, Mr. Moseley? I heard that she’s being questioned about embezzlement at the bank, but I really don’t think—”
    He shook his head. “I can’t talk about that. It’s bank business.” He paused, tilting his head. “This gal a friend of yours?”
    “Yes. A good friend. A Dahlia. And I just know she wouldn’t—”
    “It’s nice that you’re willing to go to bat for your friends, Liz. Sorry. That’s all I can say.”
    She sighed. “Okay, then.” She poised her pencil over her steno pad. “I’m ready for