Lay Her Among The Lilies

with a cigar: a trick that denoted his displeasure.

“All right,” he said in a thin, exasperated voice, “let’s start from the beginning again. You

had this letter…” He leaned forward to peer at Janet Crosby’s letter as if it had been infected

with tetanus. He was careful not to touch it. “Dated May 15th, 1948.”

Well, at least that showed he could read. I didn’t say anything.

“With this letter were five onehundred-dollar bills. Right?”

“Check,” I said.

“You received the letter on May 16th, but put it unopened in a coat pocket and forgot about

it. It was only when you gave the coat away the letter was found. Right?”

5

LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

“Check.”

He scowled down at the cigar, then rested his broad fat nose on it.

“A pretty smart way to run a business.”

“These things happen,” I said shortly. “I remember during the Tetzi trial, the police mislaid

…”

“Never mind the Tetzi trial,” Brandon said in a voice you could have sliced ham on.

“We’re talking about this letter. You went up to the Crosby’s estate with the idea of seeing

Miss Maureen Crosby. Right?”

“Yeah,” I said, getting a little tired of this.

“But you didn’t see her because she isn’t well, so you had to stick your nose still further

into this business by calling on Miss Janet Crosby’s personal maid. Right?”

“If you like to put it like that I don’t mind.”

“Is it right or isn’t it?”

“Oh, sure.”

“This woman Drew said she wanted five hundred dollars before she talked. That’s your

story, and I’m not sold on it. You watched the house, and after a while an olive-green Dodge

arrived and a big fella went in. He remained in there for about ten minutes, then came away.

Then you went in and found her dead. Right?”

I nodded.

He removed the band from the cigar, groped for a match. All the while his beer-stopper

eyes stared moodily at me.

“You claim the Dodge belongs to Dr. Salzer,” he said, and scraped the match on the sole of

his shoe.

“Mifflin says it does. I asked him to check the registration number.”

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LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

Brandon looked over at Mifflin who stared with empty eyes at the opposite wall.

“A half an hour after Malloy telephoned you, asking you who owned this car, you received

a report from Dr. Salzer that the car had been stolen. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Mifflin said stonily.

Brandon’s eyes swivelled in my direction.

“Did you hear that?”

“Sure.”

“All right.” Brandon applied the burning match to his cigar and sucked in smoke. “Just so

long as you understand, and just so long as you don’t get any fancy ideas into your head

about Dr. Salzer. You may not know it, but Dr. Salzer is a very respectable and eminent

citizen of this city, and I’m not going to have him bothered by you or anyone like you. Do

you understand that?”

I pulled thoughtfully at my nose. This was unexpected.

“Sure,” I said.

He blew smoke across the desk into my face.

“I don’t like you, Malloy, and I don’t like your itsy-bitsy organization. Maybe it has its

uses, but I doubt it. I’m damned sure you are a trouble maker. You stirred up enough trouble

with that Cerf case some months ago, and if you hadn’t been so damned smooth, you would

have been in a lot of trouble yourself. Miss Janet Crosby’s dead.” He leaned forward to peer

at the letter again. “The Crosbys were and still are a very wealthy and influential family, and

I’m not standing for you stirring up trouble for them. You have no legal right to the five

hundred dollars Miss Crosby sent you. That is to be paid back to her estate — immediately.

You are to leave Miss Maureen Crosby alone. If she is in trouble with a blackmailer —which

I doubt — she will come to me if she needs help. This business has nothing to do with you,

and if I find you are making a nuisance of yourself I’ll take steps to put you where you won’t

trouble anyone for a very long time. Do you understand?”

I grinned at him.

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LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

“I’m beginning to,” I said, and leaned forward to ask, “How much does Salzer pay into

your Sports Fund, Brandon?”

The fat pink and white face turned a dusky-mauve colour. The beer-stopper eyes sparked

like chipped flint.

“I’m warning you, Malloy,” he said, a snarl in his voice. “My boys know how to take care

of a punk like you. One of these nights you’ll get taken up a dark alley for a beating. Lay off

the Crosbys and lay off Salzer. Now get out!”

I stood up.

“And how much does the Crosby estate pay into your welfare fund, Brandon?” I asked.

“How much did old man Crosby slip you for hushing up that auto-killing Maureen performed

two years ago? Respectable and eminent? Don’t make me laugh. Salzer’s as respectable and

eminent as Delmonico’s chucker-out. How come he signed Macdonald Crosby’s death

certificate when he isn’t even qualified?”

“Get out!” Brandon said very quietly.

We stared at each other for perhaps the best part of four seconds, then I shrugged, turned

my back on him and made for the door.

“Come on, Paula, let’s get out of here before we suffocate,” I said, and jerked open the

door. “Remember that little crack about taking me up a dark alley. It’s just as much fun