Lay Her Among The Lilies

with a burst above his head.

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“The police are anxious for any information that will lead to the arrest of the criminals,” the

announcer went on. “These six men have been described as short, stockily built, dark-skinned, and all wearing blue suits and black hats.

“The police are also anxious to question an unknown man who was with John Stevens

when the kidnappers arrived. After telephoning Police Headquarters, giving a description of

the criminals and the number of their car, he disappeared. Eye-witnesses have described him

as tall, powerfully built, dark hair, sallow complexion and sharp-featured. He has a wound on

the right side of his face from a blow from one of the kidnappers. Anyone recognizing this

man should communicate immediately to Captain of Police Brandon, Police Headquarters,

Graham 3444 …”

I leaned forward and snapped down the switch.

“Sallow and sharp-featured, but not handsome. No one said he was handsome.”

I turned slowly in my chair.

Sergeant MacGraw stood in the open french windows, and behind him lurked Sergeant

Hartsell.

I didn’t jump more than a foot. It was one of those reflex actions over which I had no

control.

“Who told you to blow in?” I asked, getting to my feet.

“He wants to know who told us to blow in,” MacGraw said, speaking out of the side of his

mouth. “Shall we tell him?”

Hartsell came into the room. There was a cold, bleak look on his thin face, his deep-set

eyes were stony.

“Yeah, tell him.”

MacGraw closed the french windows without taking his eyes off me.

“A little bird told us,” he said, and winked. “There’s always a little bird to tell us the things

we want to know. And the little bird also told us you were with Stevens tonight.”

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I sweated gently. Maybe it was because it was a hot night. Maybe I didn’t like the look of

these two. Maybe I was remembering what Brandon had said about a beating up in a dark

alley.

“That’s right,” I said. “I was with him.”

“Now that’s what I call being smart,” MacGraw said, and beamed. “Wonder Boy tells the

truth for a change.” He poked a thick finger in my direction. “Why didn’t you stick around?

The prowl boys would have liked to have talked to you.”

“There was nothing I could tell them,” I said. “I gave the desk sergeant a description of the

car and the men. That let me out, and besides, I had enough for one night so I blew.”

MacGraw sat down in one of the armchairs, felt in his inside pocket and hooked out a cigar.

He bit off the end, spat the shred of tobacco messily against my wall and lit up.

“I like that,” he said, rolling thick smoke around in his mouth before releasing it. “You had

enough for one night. Yeah, that’s very nice. But, pally, how wrong you are. The night hasn’t

even started for you yet.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Let’s get going,” Hartsell said in a hard voice. “I’m on duty in another hour.”

MacGraw frowned at him.

“Take it easy, can’t you? What’s it matter if you are a little late? We’re on duty right now,

aren’t we?” He glanced at me. “What were you talking to Stevens about?”

“I wanted to know if he was satisfied Janet Crosby died of heart failure. He wasn’t.”

MacGraw chuckled and rubbed his big white hands together. He seemed genuinely pleased

to hear this.

“You know the Captain’s no fool,” he said to Hartsell. “I’m not saying he’s everyone’s

bed-fellow, but he’s no fool. Those were his very words. ‘I’ll bet that son-of-a-bitch was

talking to Stevens about the Crosbys.’ That’s what he said to me as soon as we got the

description. And he was right.”

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Hartsell gave me a long, mean look.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Was that all you wanted to know, Wonder Boy?” MacGraw asked. “Or were there other

questions you asked Stevens?”

“That’s all I wanted to know.”

“Didn’t the Captain tell you to lay off the Crosbys?”

Now it was coming.

“He mentioned it.”

“Maybe you think the Captain talks just to hear his own voice?”

I looked from MacGraw to Hartsell and back to MacGraw again.

“I don’t know. Why not ask him?”

“Don’t get tricky, Wonder Boy. We don’t like ‘em tricky, do we, Joe?”

Hartsell made an impatient movement. “For Pete’s sake, let’s get on with it,” he said.

“Get on with—what?” I asked.

MacGraw leaned forward to spit at the wall again. Then he scattered ash on the carpet.

“The Captain didn’t seem happy about you, pally,” he said, and grinned. “And when the

Captain’s unhappy he gets sore, and when he gets sore he takes it out of the boys, so we

thought we’d better make him happy again. We figured the way to get his smile back would

be to come and see you and give you a little work-out. We thought it would be a good idea to

sort of smack your ears down: maybe tear them off. Then we thought it would be another

good idea to sort of wreck your place; kick the furniture around and hack bits out of the wall.

That’s the way we figured it, didn’t we, Joe?”

Hartsell licked his thin lips and allowed a leer to come into his stony eyes. He took out a

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