James Chase - Lay Her Among the Lilies

Bland took a step forward, and then changed his mind. She couldn’t get away. Already she had reached the massive door and was beating on it with clenched fists.

All this happened in so many seconds, then a nurse appeared from the bathroom: a tall, powerfully-built woman whose hatchet face was white with alarm and fury. She looked down the corridor at the girl’s naked back. She looked at Bland.

“Get your patient away,” she said. “And get out yourself, you—you ape!”

“Take it easy,” Bland said, his eyes still on the girl. “You let her out, you silly old mare.”

“Get your patient away or I’ll report you,” the nurse said furiously.

“And you would, too,” Bland returned, sneering.

He grabbed hold of my arm.

“Come on, baby, the fun’s over. You can’t say this ain’t the place to live in. The best of attention and the Follies Bergčre thrown in for free. What more do you want?”

He hustled me into a bathroom opposite the one the girl had escaped from as the nurse went down the corridor. The girl saw her coming, turned to face her; her screams went through my head and set my nerves jangling. I was glad when the bathroom door closed on the sound, shutting it out.

Bland was excited. His hard little eyes gleamed, and he kept running his tongue along his lips.

“Some bim!” he said, half to himself. “I wouldn’t have missed that for a week’s pay. Here you, get your things off and get into the bath. My luck having to sit around and look at you when that dish out there’s on show.”

“Stop acting like a kid,” I said, stripping off the dressing-gown and pyjamas. “Who is she, anyway?”

“The bim? No one you’d know. She used to be a nurse here; went suddenly crackers when her boy walked out on her. That’s the story, anyway. She was here before I came. Why she should go nuts because she lost her boy, beats me. I would have given her a twirl any time she wanted one.”

I lay still in the bath, my face expressionless. A nurse! Was this the missing nurse Mifflin had told me about? It sounded like her.

“Her name’s Anona Freedlander—right?” I shot out.

Bland showed his surprise.

“How did you know?”

“I’m a detective,” I said solemnly.

Bland grinned. He sat on a stool near the bath and lit a cigarette.

“Get going, baby. Never mind the detection now. I gotta lot to do.” Absent-mindedly he dropped the match into the water.

“What’s wrong with Hopper?” I asked, changing the subject. “Why’s he here?”

“Hoppie’s quite a case,” Bland said, and shook his head. “There’re certain times in the month when even I don’t go near him. You wouldn’t think that to look at him, would you? A very deceptive guy. If it wasn’t for his old man’s money he would be in a criminal asylum. He killed a girl: tore her throat out with his teeth. He’ll be here for the rest of his days. You never know with him. When he’s in the wrong mood he’s a killer. One day he’s okay, the next he’s as dangerous as a tiger on hunger strike.”

I began wondering about Bland, asking myself if he could be bought.

“How about a cigarette?” I asked, lying back in the water. “I could do with one.”

“Sure, baby. So long as you behave yourself, I’ll treat you like my brother.” He produced a package of Lucky Strike, gave me one and lit it for me. “When you first come here all you guys try to be smart and start trouble. Take my tip and don’t. We’ve got an answer for most things. Just remember that.”

I dragged down smoke. It didn’t taste quite as good as I was expecting.

“How long do you think you’re going to keep me here?”

He took an old envelope out of his pocket and tapped ash into it, put it on the side of the bath for my use.

“From the look of your record, baby, you’re in here for good.”

I decided I would try it.

“How would you like to earn a hundred dollars?”

“Doing what?” The small eyes alerted.

“Simple enough. Telephone a friend of mine.”

“And what would I say?”

But it was a little too quick and a little too glib. I studied him. It wasn’t going to work. The mocking smile gave him away. He was playing with me.

“Never mind,” I said, drowned the cigarette and put the soggy butt into the envelope.

“Forget it. Let’s have a towel.”

He handed me a towel.

“Don’t get that way, baby. I might play. I could use a hundred bucks. What’s the telephone number?”

“Forget it,” I said.

He sat watching me, a grin on his face, the butt of his cigarette resting on his lower lip.

“Maybe you’d like to raise the ante,” he suggested. “Now, for five hundred…”

“Just get it out of the thing you call your mind,” I said, and put on my pyjamas. “One of these days we’ll meet on more equal terms. It’s something I’m looking forward to.”

“That’s okay, baby. Have your pipe-dreams. They don’t hurt me,” he said, opened the door and looked out. “Come on. I’ve got to get Hoppie up.”

There was no commotion from the opposite bathroom as I walked down the corridor. The bath had done me good. If there had been a chance to get past that door I would have taken it. But I was already making up my mind I would have to be very patient. I purposely walked slowly, leaning on Bland’s arm. The weaker he thought me, the more I would surprise him when it came to a showdown.

I got into bed and meekly allowed him to lock the handcuff.

Hopper said he didn’t want a bath.

“Now, baby, that’s no way to act,” Bland said reprovingly. “You gotta look smart this morning. There’s an official visit at eleven o’clock. Coroner Lessways is coming to talk to you.” He glanced at me and grinned. “And he’ll talk to you, too. Every month the city councilmen come around to see the nuts. Not that they pay a lot of attention to what the nuts tell them, but they come, and sometimes they even listen. But don’t give them that stuff about murder, baby. They’ve heard it all. To them you’re just another nut along with a lotta nuts, and it won’t do you any good.”

He persuaded Hopper to get out of bed, and they went off together to the bathroom. That left me alone. I lay in the bed, staring at the six sharp-etched lines on the opposite walls and used my head. So Coroner Lessways was coming. Well, that was something. As Bland had said there wasn’t much point in my telling Lessways that Salzer was responsible for Eudora Drew’s killing. It was too far-fetched; too unbelievable, but if I had the chance I might give him something to chew on. For the first time since I had been in this trap I felt a little more hopeful.

I looked up suddenly to see the door slowly open. There was no one in sight. The door swung right open and remained open. I leaned forward to look into the empty corridor, thinking at first the wind had opened the door, but remembered the latch had clicked shut when Bland and Hopper had left the room.

I waited, staring at the open door, and listened. Nothing happened. I heard nothing, and because I knew someone had opened the door I felt suddenly spooked.

After what seemed an age I heard a rustle of paper. In the acute silence it sounded like a thunder clap. Then I saw a movement, and a woman came into sight.

She stood in the doorway, a paper sack in one hand, a vacant, unintelligent expression in her washed-out eyes. She regarded me steadily with no more interest than if I was a piece of furniture, and her hand groped blindly in the sack. Yes, it was her all right: the plum-eating woman, and what was more, she was still eating plums.

We looked at each other for a long moment of time. Her jaw moved slowly and rhythmetically as her teeth chewed up a plum. She looked as bright and happy as a cow chewing the cud.