James Chase - Lay Her Among the Lilies

“All right,” I said. “Then I can go ahead?”

He began to pace about the room, his hands behind him, his head bent, frowning at the carpet.

“Oh, yes. I want you to go ahead.”

“There are some questions I’d like to ask,” I said, lighting another cigarette. “When did you last see Maureen Crosby?”

“At Janet’s funeral. I haven’t seen her since. Her affairs are quite straightforward. Any papers that need her signature are sent to her through the mail. I have had no occasion to see her.”

“You haven’t heard she is ill?”

He shook his head. No, he had no idea she was ill.

“Are you satisfied Macdonald Crosby’s death was an accident?” I shot at him.

He wasn’t expecting this, and looked up sharply.

“What do you mean? Of course it was an accident.”

“Couldn’t it have been suicide?”

“There was no reason why Crosby should have committed suicide.”

“As far as you know.”

“A man doesn’t usually kill himself with a shot-gun if he owns a revolver, and Crosby owned a revolver. A shot-gun is liable to be messy.”

“If he had committed suicide would it have affected his estate?”

“Why, yes.” A startled look came into his eyes. “His life was insured for a million and a half dollars. The policy carried a non-payment suicide clause.”

“Who received the insurance money?”

“I don’t quite see where all this is leading to,” he said, returning to his desk and sitting down. “Perhaps you will explain.”

“It seems odd to me that Salzer, who is not a qualified doctor, should have signed the death certificate. The coroner and Brandon must have agreed to this. I’m trying to convince myself there was nothing sinister in Crosby’s death. Suppose he did commit suicide. According to you the estate would have lost a million and a half dollars. But if a nice, willing quack and a grafting coroner and Captain of Police got together it could be arranged to look like an accident, couldn’t it?”

“That’s a pretty dangerous thing to say. Isn’t Salzer qualified?”

“No. Who received the insurance money?”

“It was left to Janet, and at her death to Maureen.”

“So Maureen now has a million and a half in cash; is that right?”

“Yes. I tried to persuade Janet to invest the money, but she preferred to leave it in the bank. It passed in cash to Maureen.”

“What’s happened to it? Is it still in the bank?”

“As far as I know. I have no access to her account.”

“Couldn’t you have?”

He regarded me steadily for a moment or so.

“I might. I don’t know whether I’d care to.”

“It would be helpful to find out just how much is left.” I nodded towards Janet’s letter lying on the desk. “There’s this business of blackmail. And if Franklin Lessways, the coroner, and Brandon had to be squared it is possible not a great deal of it remains. I’d be glad if you could find out.”

“All right. I’ll see what can be done.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I suppose I could take action against Salzer if what you say is true. He had no right to sign the certificate, but I’m not anxious to come out into the open just yet. There seems to be no doubt the shooting was accidental. The insurance company was satisfied.”

“They would be if Brandon and the coroner passed the certificate. It looks to me as if Salzer is financing Lessways as well as Brandon. What do you know about Lessways?”

Willet grimaced.

“Oh, he could be bought. He has a pretty rotten reputation.”

“Did you know Janet Crosby well?”

He shook his head.

“I met her two or three times. No more.”

“Did she strike you as having a bad heart?”

“No; but that doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people have bad hearts. It doesn’t always show.”

“But they don’t play tennis two days before they die as Janet did.”

I could see he was beginning to get worried.

“What are you hinting at?”

“Nothing. I’m just stating a fact. I’m not sold on the idea she died of heart failure.”

While he stared at me the silence in the room was heavy enough to sink a battleship.

“You’re not suggesting…” he began and broke off.

“Not yet,” I said. “But it’s something we should keep in mind.”

I could see he didn’t like this at all. “Suppose we leave that for the moment?” I went on. “Let’s concentrate on Maureen Crosby. From the look of the house and from what Nurse Gurney tells me it is possible Maureen isn’t living at Crestways. If she isn’t there—where is she?”

“Yes,” he said. “There’s that.”

“Is she in Salzer’s sanatorium? Has it occurred to you she may be a prisoner there?”

That brought him bolt upright in his chair. “Aren’t you letting your imagination run away with you? I had a letter from her only last week.”

“That doesn’t mean much. Why did she write?”

“I asked her to sign some papers. She returned them signed, with a covering note thanking me for sending them.”

“From Crestways?”

“The address on the note-paper was Crestways.”

“That still doesn’t prove she isn’t a prisoner, does it? I’m not saying she is, but that’s another thing we shall have to keep in mind.”

“We can find out about that right away,” he said briskly.

“I’ll write to her and ask her to call on me. I can find some business excuse for an interview.”

“Yeah. That’s an idea. Will you let me know what happens? It might be an idea to follow her when she leaves you and find out where she goes.”

“I’ll let you know.”

I stood up.

“I think that’s about all. You’ll remember to check on her bank statement?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Go slow on this, Malloy. I don’t want any blow-back. You understand?”

“I’ll watch it.”

“What’s your next move?”

“I’ve got to do something about Nurse Gurney. I liked that girl. If she’s alive, I’m going to find her.”

When I left him he wasn’t looking like the Graven Image any more. He was looking like a very worried, much-harassed, middle-aged lawyer. At least, it showed the guy was human.

The desk sergeant said Mifflin was free and for me to go on up. He looked at me with hopeful eyes, and I knew he was expecting me to name the winner of tomorrow’s races, but I had other things on my mind.

I went up the stone stairs. On the landing I ran into redheaded Sergeant MacGraw.

“Well, well, the Boy Wonder again,” he said sneeringly. “What’s biting you this time?”

I looked into the hard little eyes and didn’t like what I saw in them. This was a guy who would enjoy inflicting pain; one of those tough coppers who would volunteer when there was a softening job to be done, and how he would love it.

“Nothing’s biting me,” I said. “But if I stick around you long enough something may.”

“Smart—huh?” He grinned, showing small yellow teeth. “Keep your nose clean, Wonder Boy. We’re watching you.”

“Just so long as you don’t shoot me through the head,” I returned, pushed past him and went on down the corridor to Mifflin’s office.

I paused before I rapped and looked over my shoulder. MacGraw was still standing at the head of the stairs, staring at me. There was a startled expression on his face, and his loose-lipped mouth hung open. As our eyes met, he turned away and went down the stairs.

Mifflin looked up as I entered his office and frowned.

“You again. For Pete’s sake don’t keep coming to see me. Brandon doesn’t like it.”

I pulled up a straight-back chair and sat down.

“Remind me to cry when I have time. I’m on official business. If Brandon doesn’t like it he can go jump in the ocean.”