Lay Her Among The Lilies

another twelve-foot gate, standing open, and again looking back, I saw it swing to behind us

as if closed by an invisible hand.

Into the glare of the headlights appeared a chalet-styled wooden house, screened by

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flowering shrubs and Tung blossom trees. Lights showed through the windows of the ground

floor. An electric lantern shed a bright light on the steps leading to the front door. She pulled

up, opened the car door and slid out. I got out more slowly. A terraced garden built into the

cliff spread out before me in the moonlight. At the bottom, and it looked a long way down, I

could see a big swimming-pool. The sea provided a soft background of sound and glittered in

the far distance. The scent of flowers hung in the hot night air in overpowering profusion.

“Is all this yours?” I asked.

She was standing by my side. The top of her sleek dark hair was in line with my shoulder.

“Yes.” After a pause, she said, “I’m sorry about the gun, but I had to get you here quickly.”

“I would have come without the gun.”

“But not before you had answered the telephone. It was very important for you not to

answer it.”

“Look, I have a headache and I’m tired. I’ve been kicked in the throat, and although I’m

tough, I have still been kicked in the throat. All I ask is for you not to be mysterious. Will you

tell me why you have brought me here. Why it was important I shouldn’t answer the

telephone and what you want with me?”

“Of course. Shall we go in? I’ll get you a drink.”

We went up the steps. The front door stood open, and we walked into a lobby, through an

archway into a big lounge that ran the width of the house. It was everything you would expect

a millionairess to have. No money had been spared. The colour scheme was cream and

magenta, and the room was showy without being vulgar. Not my idea of a room, but then I

run to very simple tastes.

“Let’s sit on the verandah,” she said. “Will you go through? I’ll bring the drinks.”

“Are you alone here?”

“Except for a servant. She won’t worry us.”

I walked out on to the verandah. There was one of those big swing lounging seats about ten

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feet long arranged so you could sit and admire the view: as a view it was well worth

admiring. I dropped on to a soft leather cushion and stared at the distant sea. All the time I

had been in the car I had been wondering what she wanted with me. I still wondered.

She came out after a few minutes, pushing a trolley on which were bottles, glasses and an

ice-pail. She sat down at one end of the seat. There was about eight feet of leather and space

between us.

“Whisky?”

“Thank you.”

I watched her pour the whisky. Dark blue lights in the verandah roof made enough light for

me to see her, but not enough to try the eyes. I thought she was about the loveliest lovely I

had ever seen. Even her movements were a pleasure to watch.

We were both careful not to say anything while she poured the drinks. She offered me a

cigarette, and I took it. I lit hers, and then mine.

We were now ready to begin, but she still seemed reluctant to say anything, and I wasn’t

chancing a wrong remark that might put her off. We stared at the garden, the sea and the

moon while the hands of my wrist-watch moved on.

She said suddenly, “I’m sorry about the way I—I acted. I mean offering you money to

leave me alone. I know it was the wrong approach, but I didn’t want to give anything away

until I had had a chance to find out what kind of man you are. The fact is I want your help.

I’m in a mess, and I don’t know how to get out of it. I’ve been an awful fool, and I’m scared.

I’m scared out of my wits.”

She didn’t look scared, but I didn’t tell her so.

“I wish I knew for certain if he knows of this place,” she went on, as if talking to herself.

“If he does he’s certain to come here.”

“Suppose we take this nice and slow?” I said mildly. “We have all the time in the world.

Why was it important I shouldn’t answer the telephone? Let’s start with that one.”

“Because he would know where you were, and he’s looking for you,” she said, as if she

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were talking to a dim-witted child.

“You haven’t told me who he is. Is it Sherrill?”

“Of course,” she said shortly.

“Why is he looking for me?”

“He doesn’t want trouble, and you’re making trouble. He’s determined to get rid of you. I

heard him tell Francini to do it.”

“Is Francini a little Wop with pock-marks on his face?”

“Yes.”

“And he works for Sherrill?”

“Yes.”

“So it was Sherrill who engineered Stevens’ kidnapping?”

“Yes. That settled it for me. When I heard the poor old man had died I came straight to

you.”

“Does Sherrill know you have this place?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t think so. I’ve never talked about it, and he hasn’t ever been here. But he might

know. There’s very little he doesn’t know.”

“All right, now we have got that ironed out, suppose we begin at the beginning?”

“I want to ask you something first,” she said. “Why did you come to Crestways, asking for