Lay Her Among The Lilies

mind would deteriorate and she wouldn’t remember what had happened. That much was

obvious, but she still remembered. The horror of the scene still lingered in her mind. Maybe

she had come suddenly into the room where the two girls had been fighting for the possession

of the gun. She may have drawn back when Crosby had taken a hand in the struggle, not

wishing to embarrass him, and she had seen the gun swing on Crosby and the shot fired.

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I looked at the still, white face. Sometime, but not now, there had been character and

determination in that face. She wasn’t the type to hush anything up, nor would she be

influenced by money. She was much more likely to insist on the police being called. So they

had locked her away.

I scratched the side of my jaw thoughtfully and flapped the little diary against the palm of

my hand. The next move was to get out, and get out quickly.

And as if in answer to this thought, there was a sudden and appalling crash that shook the

building: it sounded as if part of the house had collapsed.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, reached the door in two strides and jerked it open. The

corridor was full of mortar and brick dust, and out of the dust came two figures: guns in fists,

running swiftly towards Hopper’s room—Jack Kerman and Mike Finnegan. At the sight of

them I gave a croaking cheer. They pulled up sharply, their guns covering me.

Kerman’s tense face broke into a wide, expansive grin.

“Universal Services at your service,” he said, grabbing my arm. “Want a drink, pal?”

“I want transport for a nude blonde,” I said, hugging him, and took a slap on the back from

Mike that staggered me. “What did you do—pull the house down?”

“Hooked a couple of chains to the window and yanked it out with a ten-ton truck,” Kerman

said, grinning from ear to ear. “A little crude, but effective. Where’s the blonde?”

Where the mess-grill window had been there was now a gaping hole and shattered

brickwork.

I hauled Kerman into Anona’s room while Finnegan guarded the corridor. It took us about

ten seconds to wrap the unconscious girl in a sheet and carry her out of the room.

“Rear-guard action, Mike,” I said as we swept past him to the hole in the wall. “Shoot if

you have to.”

“Sling her over my shoulder,” Kerman said, twittering with excitement. “There’s a ladder

against the wall.”

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I helped him climb up on the tottering brickwork. A naked arm and leg hung limply near

his face.

“Now I know why guys join the Fire Service,” he said, as he began his cautious climb

down the ladder.

Below I could see a large truck parked near the house and at the foot of the ladder I spotted

Paula. She waved to me.

“Okay, Mike,” I called. “Let’s go.”

As Mike joined me, the door at the end of the corridor burst open and the hatchet-face

nurse appeared. She gave one gaping look at us and the ruined wall and started to scream.

We scrambled down the ladder and piled into the truck.

Paula was already at the driving-wheel, and, as we scrambled into the back of the truck, she

let in the clutch and drove crazily across the flower beds.

Kerman had laid Anona on the floor and was looking down at her.

“Yum, yum,” he said, and twirled his moustache. “If I’d known she was as good as this, I’d

have come sooner.”

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James Hadley Chase – Lay Her Among The Lilies – Chapter V

Chapter V

I

A buzzer buzzed, and the platinum blonde unwound her slinky form from behind her desk

and came over to me. She said Mr. Willet would see me now. She spoke as if she were in

church, and looked as if she should have been in the front row of Izzy Jacob’s pretties at the

Orchid Room Follies.

I followed the sway of her hips across the outer office to the inner sanctum. She tapped on

the door with an emerald green nail, opened it and tucked up a stray curl the way women

have as she said, “Mr. Malloy is here.”

She stood aside as my cue to enter. I entered.

Willet was entrenched behind his super-sized desk and was staring dubiously at something

that looked like a Last Will and Testament, and probably was. A fat, gold-tipped cigarette

burned between two brown fingers. He waved me to a chair without looking up.

The platinum blonde went away. I watched her go. At the door she managed to snap a hip

so it quivered under the black sheen of her silk dress. I was sorry when the door closed on

her.

I sat down, and looked inside my hat and tried to remember when I had bought it. It seemed

a long, long time ago. The hatter’s imprint was indecipherable. I told myself I’d buy myself a

new hat if I could persuade Willet to part with any more money. If I couldn’t, then I’d make

do with this one.

I thought these thoughts to pass the time. Willet seemed lost in his legal film-flammery: a

picture of a big-shot lawyer making money. You could almost hear the dollars pouring into

his bank.

“Cigarette,” he said suddenly and absently. Without taking his eyes off the mass of papers

he clutched in his hand, he pushed the silver box towards me.