Lay Her Among The Lilies

head and chucked me into the sea? Why hadn’t he done that, anyway? Perhaps he stopped at

murder. Stevens hadn’t been murdered. His death had been an accident. But Salzer didn’t

stop at murder; unless Dwan had exceeded his orders. It might even he better, I thought, to be

murdered than left locked up in a padded cell for the rest of my days.

Pull yourself together, Malloy, I said to myself. Snap out of it! All right, you have been

bashed on the head and by the woolly feeling behind your eyes and in your mouth you have

had a cart-load of drug pushed into you, but that’s no excuse to go off at half-cock now. Paula

and Kerman will get you out of this. Hang on, and take it easy until they do.

The door opened suddenly and silently, and a short, dark man came in. He had a pair of

shoulders you would expect to find on a gorilla, and his round red face was freckled and

creased in a fixed, humourless grin. He was dressed in a white lap-over short coat, white

trousers and white, rubber-soled shoes. He carried a tray covered with a towel, and he moved

as silently and as lightly as a feather settling on the floor.

“Hello, Hoppie,” he said, putting the tray on a table by the door. “Beddy-byes now. How

are you? Did you get any dope out of that book?”

Hopper waved his hand towards my bed.

“Mr. Seabright is with us now,” he said.

Bland—for this must be Bland—came to the foot of my bed and stared at me. The smile

was still there: a little wider if anything. The greenish eyes were as hard and as cold and as

sharp as ice-chips.

“Hello, baby,” he said. He had a curious whispering voice; hoarse and secretive, as if

something was wrong with his larynx. “I’m Bland. I’m going to look after you.”

126

LAY HER AMONG THE LILIES

I found myself starting to clutch hold of the sheet, but I stopped that. Take it easy, I told

myself. Relax. Don’t rush things.

“Hello,” I said, and my voice sounded as tight as a piano wire. “You don’t have to look

after me. Where’s Salzer? I want to talk to him.”

“Doctor Salzer, baby,” Bland said reprovingly. “Don’t be disrespectful.” He gave Hopper a

long, slow wink. “You’ll see him tomorrow.”

“I want to see him now,” I said steadily.

“Tomorrow, baby. The Doc has to have a little time off. If there’s anything you want, you

tell me. I’m boss of this floor. What I say goes.”

“I want Salzer,” I said, trying to keep my voice under control.

“Tomorrow, baby. Now, settle down. I gotta little shot for you, and then you’ll sleep.”

“He thinks he’s a detective,” Hopper said, suddenly scowling. “He says Dr. Salzer has

murdered someone.”

“Very disrespectful, but what does it matter?” Bland said, taking a hypodermic syringe

from its case.

“But it does matter. That’s hallucinations,” Hopper said crossly. “It says so in this book. I

don’t see why I should have him in with me. I don’t like it. He may be dangerous.”

Bland gave a short barking laugh.

“That’s funny, coming from you. Button up, baby; I gotta lot to do.” He screwed in the

needle and filled the syringe with colourless liquid.

“I shall complain to Dr. Salzer,” Hopper said. “My father wouldn’t like it.”

“Nuts to your father, and double nuts to you,” Bland said impatiently. He came over to me.

“All right, let’s have your arm : the right one.”

I sat up abruptly.

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“You don’t stick that in me,” I said.

“Don’t be that way, baby. It won’t get you anywhere,” Bland said, his fixed grin widening.

“Lie down, and take it easy.”

“Not in me you don’t,” I said.

He caught hold of my wrist in his right hand. His short thick fingers clamped into my flesh

like a vice.

“If you want it the hard way,” he said, his red. freckled face close to mine, “it’s okay with

me.”

I exerted my muscles in a quick twist, hoping to break his hold, but instead I nearly broke

my arm. I heaved forward, trying to hit him in the chest with my shoulder, but that didn’t

work either.

He retained his grip, grinning at me, waiting to see what else I would do. I didn’t keep him

waiting long, and tried to kick my legs free of the sheet, but that wasn’t possible. The sheet

was as tough as canvas, and had been tucked in so tightly there was no shifting it.

“Finished, baby?” he asked, almost cheerfully. “I’m going to stick the needle in now, and if

you struggle it’ll break off in you, so watch your step.”

I gritted my teeth and heaved away from him, pulling him off-balance, so he stumbled. He

recovered immediately, and his grin vanished.

“So you think you’re strong, do you?” he whispered. “Okay, baby, let’s see how strong you

are.”

He began to bend my arm. I resisted, but it was like pushing against a steam-roller. He was

much, much too strong: unbelievably strong, and my arm slowly twisted behind me, creaking

in every muscle. Cold sweat ran down my back, and my breath whistled out of me as I fought

him.

I braced myself and regained a couple of inches. Bland was beginning to breathe heavily

himself. Maybe if I could have added my weight to the struggle I might have held him. But