James Chase - Lay Her Among the Lilies

I heard Kerman say, “Is there no one else on this floor?”

“Not at the moment,” Salzer said. “We have had several interesting cures recently. Perhaps you would like to see our files?”

The voices drifted away, and Bland closed the door. He grinned at me.

“Didn’t work, did it, baby? I told you : just a nut along with a lotta other nuts.”

It wasn’t easy to look like a disappointed man, but I somehow managed it.

Salzer was talking sense when he had said visitors excited his patients. The effect on Hopper was obvious, although it wasn’t until Bland brought in the lunch-trays that he showed sighs of blowing up.

When Salzer and the visitors had gone. Hopper lay still, staring up at the ceiling, a heavy scowl on his face. He remained like that until lunch-time, and paid no attention to any remark I made, so I left him alone. I had plenty to think about anyway, and I wasn’t pining for his society. But when Bland set the tray on the night table, he suddenly lashed out, sending the tray flying across the room to land with a crash and a mess on the floor.

He sat up, and the look of him brought me out in goose pimples. His face altered so I scarcely recognized him. It grew thinner, older and lined. There was a ferocious, trapped look in his eyes you see in the eves of the fiercer beasts in the zoo. And the way Bland skipped out of his reach was as quick as the hop of a frog.

“Take it easy, baby,” Bland said, more from force of habit than to mean anything.

Hopper crouched down in the bed and stared at him as if willing him to come within reach, but Bland wasn’t to be tempted.

“Just my goddamn luck,” he said savagely. “He has to chuck an ing-bing when I’m going off duty.”

Laboriously he cleared up the broken crockery, piled the bits on the tray. By the time he was through he seemed to have decided to ignore Hopper, who continued to watch him with mad, glittering eyes.

“I’m going anyway, see?” he said to me. “I gotta date, and I’m not going to bust it. You’ll be okay. He can’t reach you, and maybe he’ll snap out of it. He does, sometimes. If he starts trying to walk up the wall, ring the bell. Quell’s on duty, but don’t ring unless you have to. Okay?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. I didn’t like the look of Hopper. “How long do I get left alone?”

“Quell will be in every so often. You won’t see me ‘til tomorrow.” Bland said impatiently.

“If I don’t beat it now, Salzer will make me stay and watch the punk. I’m the only one who can do anything with him.”

An idea jumped into my mind. I didn’t like being left with Hopper. It gave me the shakes just to look at him, but with Bland out of the way and the handcuff key within reach, there was a chance to start something.

“So long as someone’s within call,” I said, settling back on my pillow. “But I’d just as soon go with you. How about it?”

He grinned.

“My frill is screwy enough without you being around.”

He took Hopper’s wrecked meal away while I tried to eat, but Hopper’s heavy breathing and the way he glared at the opposite wall, his face working, turned my stomach. After a couple of attempts to get the food down, I pushed the tray away. What I wanted was a cigarette. I wanted that more than anything in the world.

Bland came back after a while. He had changed out of his white uniform, and now looked so smart I scarcely recognized him. His hand-painted tie nearly made me colour blind.

“What’s up?” he said, looking at my tray. “Think it’s poisoned?”

“Just not hungry.”

He glanced at Hopper who had again crouched down in the bed as soon as he saw him and was glaring at him murderously.

“Well, he won’t put me off my fun,” he said with a grin. “Just take it easy, baby. Don’t bear down on it.”

“I want a cigarette,” I said, “and if I don’t get one I’ll raise the alarm before you get out of the house.”

“You can’t have a cigarette,” Bland said. “You nuts aren’t safe with matches.”

“I don’t want a match; I want a cigarette. Light it for me and leave me a couple more. I’ll chain smoke. If I don’t have a smoke I’ll flip my lid. You don’t want two of us on your hands, do you?”

He parted with the cigarettes reluctantly, lit one for me and edged to the door.

“Tell Quell to keep away from him.” he said at the door. “Maybe he’ll settle down when I’ve gone. Whatever he does, don’t ring that bell for five minutes. Give me time to get clear.”

Hopper made a sudden grab at him. hut he was too far away to do more than disturb the air around Bland, but the way Bland skipped through the door told me he was scared of Hopper. And so was I.

The afternoon was the longest I have ever lived through. I didn’t dare attempt to get the handcuff key in the chest of drawers. I had no idea when Quell was likely to make an appearance, and then there was the problem of Hopper. I didn’t know if he was likely to start something if I got out of bed. I knew I had only one chance to get at the key, and if I fluffed it, I wouldn’t get another. I decided the attempt would have to be made at night, when Hopper was asleep and Quell in bed. That meant I had to avoid being drugged, and I hadn’t an idea how that was to be done.

As soon as Bland had gone, Hopper quieted down. He ignored me, and lay staring at the opposite wall, muttering to himself, and running his fingers through his thick, fair hair. I tried to catch what he was saying, but the words came to me only as a jumble of discordant sound.

I was careful not to make any sudden movement to attract his attention and lay smoking, and when I could get my mind away from him, I wondered what Kerman was doing.

How he had persuaded Lessways that he was a writer on mental diseases foxed me, and I suspected Paula had something to do with that. At least they knew the set-up now. They knew Anona Freedlander was in the building. They knew about the door at the end of the corridor, and the mesh-grill over the window. One or the other had to be overcome before they could rescue me; and I hadn’t a doubt that they would rescue me. But how they were going to do it was a problem.

Around four-thirty the door pushed open and a young fellow in a white uniform, similar to the one Bland wore, came in, carrying tea-trays. He was slimly built, overgrown and weedy. His long, thin face had the serious, concentrated expression of a horse running a race. He wasn’t unlike a horse. He had a long upper lip and big teeth that gave him a horsey look. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he had neighed at me. He didn’t. He smiled instead.

“I’m Quell,” he said, setting the tray on the night table. “You are Mr. Seabright, aren’t you?”

“No,” I said. “I am Sherlock Holmes. And if you take my tip I wouldn’t go near Watson. He’s in one of his moods.”

He gave me a long, sad, worried stare. From the look of him I guessed he hadn’t been mixed up with lunatics for very long.

“But that’s Mr. Hopper,” he said patiently, as if talking to a child.

Hopper was sitting up now, clenching and unclenching his fists, and snarling at Quell.

Quell may have only been in the racket a short time, but he was smart enough to see Hopper wasn’t in the mood to play pat-a-cake. He eyed Hopper as you might eye a tiger that’s suddenly walked into your sitting-room.

“I don’t think Mr. Hopper wants to be bothered with tea,” I said. “And if you take my tip you’ll keep away until Bland returns.”

“I can’t do that,” he said dubiously. “Dr. Salzer is out, and Bland isn’t likely to be back until after midnight. He really shouldn’t have gone.”