Free The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star by Susan Wittig Albert Page B

were most in danger of getting the short end of the stick, as Mr. Moseley put it when he was frustrated with a case. What kind of justice did they get?
    In fact, justice was beginning to seem to Lizzy a lot like that shiny brass balance scale that sat on the shelf behind Mr. Moseley’s big walnut desk. It had two small metal pans that were supposed to balance against one another, both of them equal. But there was something wrong with the scale’s mechanism, so that no matter how carefully it was adjusted, one side always hung lower than the other. Lizzy didn’t like to think of it, but that was the way justice seemed to operate these days. It tipped in the direction of the people who had money and influence and power, and the rest . . . well, they came up short.
    But Lizzy wasn’t thinking about justice today. She was thinking about what Charlie Dickens had told her about Lily Dare, the sabotaged airplane, and the possibility that the air show might be canceled. Of course, the Watermelon Festival would go on, with or without Miss Dare and her Dare Devils. There would be plenty of fun for everybody, especially for the young folks, who would enjoy the carnival rides and cotton candy and free watermelons.
    But the air show—well, that was something people were looking forward to. It was the brightest spot in an otherwise pretty dismal summer, what with Ozzie Sherman cutting back on the hours his men worked at the Pine Creek sawmill, and the Coca-Cola bottling plant laying off one full shift, and Cypress County reducing the size of the road repair crews. If Dad was out of work and the family couldn’t afford the buck it cost to watch the air show from the field, they could pay fifteen cents apiece for tickets to the Watermelon Festival and watch the show from the fairgrounds. They wouldn’t get to see the clown or the magic show or the head-on car crash, but they could see the airplanes and the wingwalker. If that was canceled, there’d be dozens of disappointed dads, moms, and kids.
    Lizzy thought for a moment more, then reached for the telephone. What she had to tell Mildred was important, and she could say it without mentioning anything about Lily Dare and Roger Kilgore. She would call and be sure that Mildred would be home this evening, then ride her bike out there after work and have a little talk with her friend.
    • • •
    During her lunch hour on Wednesdays, Lizzy usually treated herself to a shampoo and set at the Beauty Bower over on Dauphin Street, just a couple of blocks from the office. The Bower was owned and operated by fellow Dahlia Beulah Trivette and located in the enclosed back porch of her house, where her devoted husband Hank had installed two shampoo sinks, two barber chairs, and two big wall mirrors in front of the chairs. Hank also put in an electric hot water heater, which meant that Beulah and her helper, Bettina Higgens, wouldn’t have to pour hot water for shampoos out of teakettles and pitchers, with the potential for somebody to get scalded.
    In addition to the hot water heater, Hank had recently installed another innovation for his wife: a new electric permanent wave machine. Well, it wasn’t new, it was used, but the condition was “like new” and the price was right. Aunt Hetty Little had sniffed at the contraption and said it looked like a “flock of black caterpillars dangling from a buzzard’s nest.” But as far as Beulah was concerned, it turned the trick. With that magic machine, she could make any woman beautiful.
    Beulah loved everything that was beautiful but especially adored big, floppy pink cabbage roses and had wallpapered the Bower’s walls with them. In fact, pink was her very favorite color, so she painted the floor a beautiful shade of pink and spattered yellow, gray, and blue paint all over it, much to the amazement of her older customers, who had never seen so unusual a thing as a deliberately paint-spattered floor, let alone one that started out pink.