Lay Her Among The Lilies

sueing the Captain of Police for assault as it is anyone else.”

I stamped down the long passage behind Paula. Mifflin came after us walking like a man in

hob-nailed boots treading on eggs.

He caught up with us at the end of the passage.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Come in here,” and he opened his office door.

We went in because both Paula and I liked Mifflin, and besides, he was too useful to fall

out with. He shut the door and leaned against it. His red rubbery face was worried.

“That was a sweet way to talk to Brandon,” he said bitterly. “You’re crazy, Vic. You know

47

LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

as well as I do that kind of stuff won’t get you anywhere.”

“I know,” I said, “but the rat got me mad.”

“I would have tipped you off, only I hadn’t time. But you ought to know Brandon hates

your guts.”

“I know that, too. But what could I do? I had to tell him the story. What’s Salzer to him?”

Mifflin shrugged.

“Salzer’s a good friend to the police. Sure, I know he runs a racket up at that sanatorium.

But there’s nothing illegal in it.” He lowered his voice, went on, “Where the hell do you think

Brandon got his Cadillac from? A Captain of Police’s money doesn’t run to a job like that.

And another thing: Maureen Crosby put Brandon’s kid through college, and she takes care of

Mrs. Brandon’s doctor’s bills. You picked on two of Brandon’s best patrons.”

“I guessed there must be something like that to throw Brandon into such an uproar,” I said.

“Look, Tim, did Salzer really report his car stolen?”

“Yeah, I took the call myself.”

“What are you going to do about this killer? Anything or nothing?”

“Why, sure. We’re going to find him. I know what you’re thinking, Vic, but you’re wrong.

Salzer’s too smooth to get mixed up in a killing. You can count him out.”

“Well, okay.”

“And watch out. That stuff about a beating wasn’t fiction. You won’t be the first or the last

guy who’s had his ears smacked down because Brandon doesn’t like him. I’m telling you.

Watch out.”

“Thanks, Tim. I’ll watch out, but I can take care of myself.”

Mifflin rubbed his shapeless nose with the back of his hand.

“It’s not that simple. You start fighting back and you get caught with a police-assault rap.

48

LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

They’ll fake a charge against you and take you in, and then the crew boys will really go to

town on you.”

I patted his arm.

“Don’t let it worry you. It’s not going to worry me. Anything else?”

Mifflin shook his head.

“Just watch out,” he said, opened his office door, peeped up and down the passage to make

sure the coast was clear and then waved us out.

We went down the stone stairs into the lobby. Two big plain-clothes men lounged by the

double doors. One of them had fiery red hair and a white flabby face. The other was thin and

as hard looking as a lump of rusty pig iron. They both eyed us over slowly and thoughtfully,

and the redheaded one spat accurately at the brass spitoon six yards from him.

We went past them, down the steps into the street.

II

At the back of Orchid Buildings there is a narrow alley, used primarily as a parking lot for

cars belonging to the executives and their staffs working in the building, and at the far end of

the alley you will find Finnegan’s bar.

Mike Finnegan was an old friend of mine: a useful man to know as he had contacts with

most of the hoods and con men who arrived in Orchid City, and any shady activity that

happened to be cooking he knew about. Some years ago I had taken a hand in a little

argument between Finnegan and three toughs whose ambition at that time was to poke

Finnegan’s eyes out with a broken whisky bottle. Finnegan seemed to think if it hadn’t been

for me he would have lost his sight, and he was embarrassingly grateful.

Besides a source of useful information, Finnegan’s bar was also a convenient after-officehours

meeting-place, and, guessing Kerman would be there, I parked the Buick outside and

went in with Paula.

It was a little after eleven o’clock, and only a few stragglers remained up at the counter.

Jack Kerman lolled at a corner table, a newspaper spread out before him, a bottle of Scotch

49

LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

within easy reach. He looked up and waved.

As we crossed the room, I flapped a hand at Finnegan, who gave me a broad smile.

Finnegan would never win beauty prize. Built like a gorilla, his battered, scarred face as ugly

as it was humorous, he looked a cross between King Kong and a ten-ton truck.

Kerman rose to his feet and gave Paula an elaborate bow.

“Imagine you coming to a joint like this,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve left your vinegar

and repressions locked up in the office safe.”

“Skip it, Jack,” I said, sitting down. “Things are popping. Before I tell the tale, have you

anything for me?”

Before he could answer Finnegan arrived.

“Evening, Mr. Malloy. Evening, Lady.”

Paula smiled at him.

“Another glass, Mike,” I said. “I’ll help Kerman finish the Scotch.” I looked at Paula.

“Coffee?”

She nodded.

“And coffee for Miss Bensinger.”

When Finnegan had brought the glass and the coffee and had gone back to the bar, I said,

“Let’s have it.”