Lay Her Among The Lilies

Paula’s apartment and waited. I could hear the buzz-buzz note of the ringing tone, but no one

answered. I stood there, my heart thumping, the receiver against my ear, listening and

waiting.

She should be there. We had agreed Anona wasn’t to be left alone.

Kerman came to stare at my tense face through the glass door. I shook my head at him,

broke the connection and asked the operator to try again.

While she was making another connection, I opened the door.

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“No answer,” I said. “She’s trying again.”

Kerman’s face darkened.

“Let’s get on. We have a good hour’s run yet.”

“We’ll do it in better time than that,” I said, and, as I was about to hang up, the operator

came on and said the line was in order, but there was no answer.

I rammed down the receiver, and together we ran out of the store. I sent the Buick whipping

down the main street, and as soon as we were clear of the town I opened up.

Kerman was trying to read the newspaper, but, at the speed we were going, he had trouble

in holding it steady.

“She was found this afternoon,” he bawled in my ear. “She took poison after Salzer had

reported Quell’s death to the police. No word about Anona. Nothing about Nurse Gurney.”

“She’s the first of them to get cold feet,” I said. “Or else someone fed her poison. To hell

with her, anyway. I’m scared about Paula.”

Kerman said afterwards he had never been driven in a car so fast in his life, and he didn’t

ever want to go through the experience again. At one time the speedometer needle was stuck

at ninety-two, and kept there as we roared along the wide coast road with, the horn blaring.

A speed cop came after us, but he couldn’t make the grade. He stuck behind for two or

three miles, then dropped out of sight. I guessed he would phone our description through to

the next town, so I swung off the main road and went pelting along a dirt road that wasn’t

much wider than twenty feet. Kerman just sat with his eyes closed and prayed.

We arrived in Orchid City fifteen minutes under the hour, and that was driving. We had

done the sixty odd miles in forty-five minutes.

Paula had an apartment on Park Boulevard, a hundred yards or so from Park Hospital. We

roared up the broad boulevard and braked outside the apartment block with a squeal of tyres

like hog-day in a slaughter-house.

The elevator seemed to crawl to the third floor. It got there eventually, and we both raced

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down the passage to Paula’s apartment. I rammed my thumb in the bell-push and leaned my

weight on it. I could hear the bell ringing, but no one answered. Sweat was standing out on

my face as if I’d just come out of a shower.

I stood away.

“Together,” I said to Kerman.

We lunged at the door with our shoulders. It was a good door, but we were pretty good

men. The third lunge snapped the lock and carried us into the neat little hall.

We had our guns in our fists as we went through the living-room to Paula’s bedroom.

The bed was in disorder. The sheet and blanket lay on the floor.

We went into the bathroom and the spare bedroom: the apartment was empty: both Paula

and Anona had vanished.

I rushed to the telephone and got though to the office. Trixy said Paula hadn’t called. She

said a man who wouldn’t give his name had telephoned twice. I told her to give him Paula’s

number if he phoned again and hung up.

Kerman gave me a cigarette with a hand that shook slightly. I lit it without being conscious

of what I was doing and sat on the bed.

“We’d better get out to the Dream Ship,” Kerman said in a tight, hard voice. “And get out

there quick.”

I shook my head.

“Take it easy,” I said.

“What the hell!” Kerman exploded, and started for the door. “They’ve got Paula. Okay, we

go out there and talk to them. Come on!”

“Take it easy,” I said, not moving. “Sit down and don’t be obvious.”

Kerman came up to me.

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“You crazy or something?”

“Do you think you’d ever get near that ship in daylight?” I said, looking at him. “Use your

head. We’re going out there, but we’ll go when it’s dark.”

Kerman made an angry gesture.

“I’m going now. If we wait it may be too late.”

“Oh, shut up!” I said. “Get a drink. You’re staying right here.”

He hesitated, then went into the kitchen. After a while he came back with a bottle of

Scotch, two glasses and a jug of ice-water. He made drinks, gave me one and sat down.

“There’s not a damn thing we can do if they’ve decided to knock her on the head,” I said.

“Even if they haven’t done it now, they’d do it the moment they saw us coming. We’ll go out

there when it’s dark, and not before.”

Kerman didn’t say anything. He sat down, took a long pull at his drink and squeezed his

hands together.

We sat there, staring at the floor, not thinking, not moving: just waiting. We had four hours,

probably a little more before we could go into action.

At half-past six we were still sitting there. The Scotch bottle was about half full. Cigarette

butts mounted in the ashtrays. We were fit to walk up the wall.