The Good Die Twice (7 page)

Stu slapped his suitcase on Dagger’s desk.
Three large-stoned rings were squeezed over his sausage fingers.
One had a large “S” in diamonds surrounded by black onyx stones. A
thick gold chain link necklace around his compressed neck held a
large pendant in the shape of a dollar sign.

“Crissake,” Stu muttered. “You’ve got some
smelly bird in here with filthy bird shit all over and you’re
worried about my cigar? Now I’ve heard everything.”

Sara waited until Stu tossed the cigar out
the opened door, then she crossed the room to the aviary. “Einstein
doesn’t stink and he’s trained.”

Stu laughed showing gold caps in two of his
molars. “A bird that shits in a litter box.” He shook his head,
causing wisps of thin hair to break free from whatever spray had
held them in one place.

“Not a litter box but at least in a specific
area,” Dagger clarified.

Stu cast a gaze toward Einstein, saying,
“Hope you don’t go outside during hunting season, you oversized
crow.”

Einstein climbed on the perch by his door,
lifted his wings, and fanned out his tail. He made several hacking
motions toward Stu.

“Let’s finish this up, Stu, before I sic my
guard parrot on you.” Dagger popped the tape into the machine and
pressed the PLAY button.

Stu stood vigil over the tape player,
gleefully smiling as he heard his wife and her paramour trade
company secrets of acquisitions and bidding contracts, all the
conversations Dagger had taped during his trip to the Dunes
Resort.

“Your ass is fried now, you whore.”

Dagger pressed the STOP/EJECT button. “You do
realize that you might not be able to use this tape in a
courtroom.”

Stu handed Dagger an envelope of cash. “I
don’t think it will make it to a courtroom. Just as long as I get
that bloodsucking wife out of my life and be able to keep my
hard-earned money, I’ll be perfectly happy.”

Sara stood at the kitchen door watching Stu
Hardaway drive away in his Lexus. Dagger counted out the
hundred-dollar bills on his desk.

“Why do people get married if they don’t even
like each other?” Sara slid open the door to Einstein’s room on her
way to Dagger’s desk. She eyed the stacks of money.

Dagger scooped up the money and banded the
stacks. “Sometimes people don’t show their true selves until after
they are married.”

“I think the lucky one is Mrs. Hardaway. Stu
Hardaway is a self-righteous, sexist pig.”

Dagger smiled. “Don’t hold back, Sara.”

“I don’t think I could stand living ten
minutes under the same roof with him. Especially those cigars.” She
shivered at the mention of the foul-smelling tobacco.

He handed her the bundles of cash. “Want to
do the honors and put these in the safe?”

“How much did we milk him for?” Sara asked as
she retreated to the vault.

“Thirty thousand.” Dagger smiled. Six months
before she would never have asked such a question. He had created a
monster. And Simon was right—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

CHAPTER 12

“PARTY TIME, PARTY TIME,” Einstein shrieked
as he flew from the tree to the birdbath. He pulled on a chain,
spraying himself with a shower of water. Turning around several
times, he flapped his wings and chattered incessantly.

“We won’t be long, Einstein. I promise.” Sara
filled two of Einstein’s food dishes with fresh vegetables. She
hung a braided rope filled with Brazil nuts from one of the tree
limbs and placed several interlocking toys on the floor. “That
should keep you busy while we’re gone.”

Dagger peered into the aviary and whistled,
admiring the aqua-colored, chiffon-tiered dress Sara wore. The
color matched her eyes. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Einstein let out a shrill whistle. “GORGEOUS,
AWWWKK.” He flew to the tree and shook the water from his feathers.
Sara laughed and ran from the room, scolding Einstein for spraying
her dress.

Dagger slid the grated door shut and turned
the key in the padlock. “Behave yourself while we’re gone.”

“HELLO, HELLO, AWK. DAGGER INVESTIGATIONS.
YOU LOSE IT, WE’LL FIND IT. AWK.”

“Sorry, buddy. You won’t be able to answer
the phone from in there.” Dagger shook the door to make sure the
lock held. He slipped a black sportscoat on over his black dress
pants and black shirt. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Nick
having his sights set on Sara. He felt like her protector. Sara’s
grandmother had been Sara’s confidante, her sounding board,
teacher. Since Ada’s death, Dagger was the only person Sara
trusted.

Dagger gave Sara a puzzled look.

Sara asked, “What?”

“I just wondered…have you ever dated?”

Sara dropped her gaze, fumbled with her
purse. “I think I left my comb upstairs.”

As he watched her climb the stairs, Dagger
whispered, “Oh my god.”

“Just remember,” Dagger warned Sara as they
entered the main dining room. “If he tries anything, you kick the
shit out of him.”

“Dagger, please!” Sara felt her face
flush.

“And don’t forget why we’re here.”

The main dining room was in a different wing
from the ballroom where they had mingled Friday night. The table,
covered with a festive cloth, was set for nine people, a bit more
intimate than the previous star-studded event. The table could
easily seat twice as many, but tonight the staff had provided
additional space between each seating. Sara was sure there must be
something in an etiquette book that dictated how to host a party
for fewer than eighteen people.

Fragrant, colorful floral arrangements graced
the table. Sara had no idea why each place setting needed so much
silverware. Friday night there had been a buffet and her napkin had
contained only the customary knife and fork. This was entirely
different. She had half-expected a barbecue with hamburgers and hot
dogs, not china in a rose pattern that matched the wallpaper, or
polished silver and crystal wineglasses.

Today there were no security people, no
valet, no metal detectors. And another thing Sara readily
noticed—it wasn’t a formal dress gathering.

“Dagger, Darling.” Sheila drifted over from
the opened French doors that overlooked the gardens. Her halter top
was cropped just above her navel, exposing tanned shoulders and
midriff. Sheila gave Sara’s dress a casual glance, then turned
toward Nick who was standing by the bar. “Nicholas, I didn’t know
you were taking Sara to the prom tonight.”

“Sheila, shut up.” Dagger’s stare was icy,
but Sheila ignored him.

Sara never thought to ask Nick what the dress
code was. Her fingers played with one of the chiffon tiers and she
focused her attention on a woman with auburn hair. She wore white
pants and a short-sleeved white top with gold studs forming the
image of a building. Sara guessed the building to be a replica of
one of the Tyler resorts, probably from one of Tyler’s hotel gift
shops.

Nick appeared with a beer for Dagger and a
glass of wine for Sara. “Pay no attention to her, Sara. Sheila once
wore a swimsuit to a pool party. She didn’t read the fine print
that said to bring your own cue stick.”

Everyone laughed except Sheila. Sara
distanced herself from Dagger’s former fiancee and walked out onto
the balcony. Flat white buildings could be seen in the distance.
She remembered Nick telling her they had their own greenhouses and
a mile away from the mansion was a stable. The Tyler estate was
like something Sara had seen in vacation brochures. It could be a
resort on its own. And there was a lot of land here to...bury
someone? The thought struck her suddenly, but it was comical and
Sara found herself laughing at the thought of Rachel Tyler climbing
out of her grave to declare herself alive, almost.

The balcony seemed a quiet sanctuary if it
weren’t for Sheila’s loud voice. Sara moved away from the doors and
toward the far end of the balcony where a myriad of potted plants
huddled. She admired the flowering hibiscus trees. They were in
full bloom and she inhaled their aroma. Another plant with red
flowers and stems clothed with woolly hairs of a reddish/purplish
color was unique but she was disappointed that the flowers didn’t
have a scent.

“Thank god Sheila has you to pick on.”

Sara turned to see the auburn-haired woman,
her hair short and forming a fluff of curls around her face. Her
lips were covered with flaming red lipstick.

Sara asked, “Why is that?”

“Because then the bitch can leave me alone.”
She laughed and held out her hand to Sara. “Edie Tyler. And you
must be the young lady who is driving Sheila right up the
wall.”

“I don’t mean to.” Sara noticed Edie’s
two-inch nails had gold studs embedded in the bright red polish. It
was hard for Sara to believe that Edie could button her clothes or
even get into those horrid panty hose with nails that long.

Edie laughed again. “Innocence and modesty.
Quite a rarity around these halls.”

Sara noticed a look in Edie’s eyes that
seemed amused at Sara’s discomfort even if her words chastised
Sheila’s behavior. Sara self-consciously ran her hands down the
front of her dress, as if keeping the chiffon layers from swaying
would make her dress appear more informal.

“The table seems set for a formal
dinner.”

“The Tylers don’t know the meaning of
informal. Although Sheila looks casually dressed in that swatch of
fabric she calls a top and those low-riding flared pants, the
outfit cost over five hundred dollars. And those straw-colored
matching sandals set her back, oh, I’d say about one hundred
dollars.”

Numerous gold bangled bracelets clanged on
Edie’s wrist as she raised her wine glass to her lips. Sara didn’t
know how she did it, but Edie didn’t leave a lipstick smudge on the
glass. Her green eyes were an unusual color, a vibrant kelly
green.

“You have nice eyes.” Sara felt a compliment
might do wonders to win her a supporter.

The gold bangles clanged again as Edie
fluffed a hand through her hair. “Green today, blue tomorrow. I
have a drawer full of every color in the rainbow.”

Sara glanced at Edie’s nails. “It must be
hard to put them in.”

Edie shrugged. “That’s what maids are
for.”

Sara caught the look again, subtle but
transparent enough for even Sara to read it. Arrogance. There was
probably a feminine way of being arrogant without flashing it the
way Stu Hardaway did.

They stared out toward a river in the
distance. It came right up to the Tyler property where several
boats were moored. Amazing what money could buy, Sara thought.
Tyler had his own river and access to the lake without ever having
to trailer his boat to the marina.

“It must be tough being the only woman in the
house,” Sara said. “I mean, since Rachel Tyler passed away.” Edie
arched a picture-perfect eyebrow but said nothing. Sara plodded on.
“I saw the family portraits yesterday when I was upstairs. Nick
explained who everyone was. She is...was...beautiful.” Sara forced
a smile. “I bet she drove Sheila crazy, too.”

Edie finally smiled. “Probably for the first
time in her life Sheila was intimidated. With Robert and Leyton
being so close, Sheila considered herself the adopted daughter of
Robert Tyler, the anointed little sister to Eric and big sister to
Nicholas. Then Rachel comes on the scene, twenty-eight years
Robert’s junior, a couple of years older than Sheila. She had the
attention of every man who laid eyes on her. A
thousand-dollar-an-hour model. She had it all.” Edie took a long
sip of wine and studied Sara curiously. “Now, ask yourself. Why
would a young woman who had more than enough admirers and could
have her pick of any man, pick an old fart like Robert Tyler?”

Sara shrugged. “Maybe she loved him.”

Edie jerked her head back and laughed aloud,
a very unfeminine, raucous laugh that pierced the humid air. She
placed a hand heavy with numerous rings on Sara’s shoulder and
squeezed. “Sweetheart, you are so naive.” She was still laughing as
the dinner bell rang and they seated themselves around the
table.

Robert Tyler sat at the head of the table
looking very much like a king. A paisley ascot hugged his neck,
tucked dapperly under a starched white shirt. Gold cuff links
shaped like anchors peeked out from under his navy sportscoat. His
hair was thick, a pleasant blend of gray and brown accented by
strands of silver. His nails were manicured, hands smooth and
unscarred.

Sara liked his voice. It was smooth and
gentle. She could understand why a woman like Rachel would be
attracted to him.

“Nicholas, who is your beautiful
friend...this week?” Robert laughed at his own joke, and—as is
typical of a lord of the kingdom—the subjects followed suit.
Robert’s gray eyes twinkled.

Nick rested his arm across the back of Sara’s
chair, the sleeve of his white poet’s shirt softly touching her
hair. “This is Sara, Dad. Sara Morningsky.”

“You have beautiful features, Dear.” The
woman seated to Robert’s left was Leyton Monroe’s wife, Anna. A
nest of platinum curls rested on top of her head. “What nationality
are you, Sara?”

Sara blinked quickly and glanced across the
table at Dagger. “I’m pretty much a mixture, really.” The less said
the better, Dagger always told her.

Several waiters set platters of food on the
table. Robert stabbed a filet mignon and passed the platter to
Sara. “Let me guess,” he said. “I bet you have some Arapaho,
Shoshoni, maybe even Apachi. The nose isn’t right for Blackfoot.”
He stared at Sara, his gaze taking in the shape of her eyes, her
cheekbones. “If I were a betting man, I’d say you had some mythical
Anasazi genes in you.”

“But blue-green eyes, Dear?” Anna chirped
again. “That certainly can’t be from your Native American
heritage.”

“Actually, there was a Navaho princess back
in the eighteen hundreds who was known as Blue Eyes. Although,”
Sara admitted, “I have never traced my family tree.”