Lay Her Among The Lilies

murder, who will most certainly talk if he is ever brought to trial. He has probably a lot of

things to say about Dr. Salzer that would make interesting reading in the papers. Brandon is a

pal of Salzer. What could be more convenient than to put a slug into Dwan’s head and save

the cost of a trial and inconvenience to Brandon’s little pal? Simple, isn’t it? I may be wrong,

of course, but I doubt it. Anyway, there’s not much we can do about it, so let’s skip it and get

down to something we can do something about. Have you looked up the Crosbys’ wills?”

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LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

Paula nodded.

“Janet didn’t make a will. Crosby left three-quarters of his fortune to her and a quarter to

Maureen. Obviously Janet was his favourite. If Janet died, Maureen was to have the lot,

providing she behaved herself. But if she ever gets mixed up in a scandal and gets herself in

the newspapers, the whole fortune is to go to the Orchid City Research Centre, and she is to

be paid only one thousand dollars a year. Crosby’s trustees are Glynn & Coppley, on the third

floor of this building. Half the capital is tied up, the other half Maureen has the free run of,

providing, of course, she behaves herself.”

“That’s a nice set-up for a blackmailer,” I said. “If she has put a foot wrong, and some

crook has heard about it, he could shake her down for as much as she’s got. It wouldn’t be a

lot of fun for her to live on a thousand a year, would it?”

Paula lifted her shoulders.

“Lots of girls live on less.”

“Sure, but not millionaire’s daughters.” I picked up the paper-knife and began to dig holes

in the blotter. “So Janet didn’t leave a will. That means Eudora didn’t come into a legacy.

Then from where was she getting her money?” I looked up and stared thoughtfully at Paula.

“Suppose she knew about Maureen’s drug cure? Suppose Maureen was paying her to keep

her mouth shut? It’s an idea. Then I come along, and Eudora thinks she can screw a little

money out of Maureen. She tells me to call back at nine, and puts through a telephone call

either to Maureen or her representative who might be Dr. Salzer. In fact, could be Dr. Salzer.

‘Let’s have some more dough or I’ll talk,’ she might have said. Salzer sends Dwan down to

reason with her. Instead, or even acting on orders, Dwan knocks her off. How do you like

that?”

“It sounds all right,” Paula said dubiously. “But it’s guess work.”

“That’s right. It’s guess-work. Still, I don’t dislike it myself.” I made three more little holes

in the blotter before saying, “I think I’d better have another word with Nurse Gurney. Look,

Paula, she’s off duty during the day. Will you phone the Nurses’ Association and see if you

can get her private address? Spin them a yarn. They’ll probably let you have it.”

While she was out of the office I had another nip out of the bottle and lit another cigarette.

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LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

First, Nurse Gurney, I told myself, and then Glynn & Coppley.

Paula came back after a few minutes and placed a slip of paper on my disfigured blotter.

“Apartment 246, 3882 Hollywood Avenue,” she told me. “Did you know she’s one of Dr.

Salzer’s nurses?”

“She is?” I pushed back my chair. “Well, what do you know? It keeps coming back to

Salzer, doesn’t it? “I edged my out-tray towards her. “There’s not much here. Nothing you

can’t cope with.”

“That’s nice to know.” She picked up the tray. “Are you going ahead with this case?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll tell you this afternoon.” I reached for my hat. “I’ll be seeing you.”

It took me half an hour to reach Hollywood Avenue. The mid-morning traffic on Centre

Avenue made the going slow, but I was in no hurry.

1882 Hollywood Avenue turned out to be a six-storey apartment block, that had been

thrown together with an eye to quick profits and little if any comfort for the customers. The

lobby was dim and shabby. The elevator was big enough to hold three people if they didn’t

mind packing in like sardines. A chipped metal sign with a hand pointing to the basement

stairs had Janitor printed on it in faded blue letters and hung lopsided on the wall.

I entered the elevator, pushed the grill shut and pressed the button marked 2nd Floor. The

elevator rose creakily as if it was in two minds not to rise at all came to a sighing standstill

two floors up. I tramped down an endless corridor flanked on either side by shabby, paint-chipped doors. After what seemed to me to be half a mile walk I arrived at Apartment 246,

which was up a cul-de-sac, one of two apartments facing each other. I screwed my thumb into

the bell-push, then propped up the wall and selected a cigarette. I wondered if Nurse Gurney

was in bed. I wondered if she would be glad to see me again, and hoped she would.

I had to wait about a couple of minutes before I heard sounds, and then the door opened.

Nurse Gurney looked a lot more interesting out of her nurse’s uniform. She was wearing a

housecoat thing that reached to her ankles, but fell apart from her knees down. Her feet and

legs were bare.

“Why, hello,” she said. “Do you want to come in?”

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