James Chase - Lay Her Among the Lilies

Kerman was lolling in his chair, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his eyes closed. He opened one eye as he said, “Who cares about a business? You want to relax, brother. There’re more things in life than a business.”

Dexter licked his lips, scowled at Kerman and squirmed in his chair. He turned pleadingly to Mike.

“I can’t do it,” he said; “not a thing like this. The Dream Ship is one of my best customers.”

“She won’t be for much longer,” I said. “Cash in while the going’s good. You’ll make a hundred bucks on this deal.”

“A hundred bucks!” Dexter’s face twisted into a sneer. “Sherrill pays me more than that every month: regular money. I’m not doing it.”

I motioned to Mike to take it easy. He was straining forward, making a growling noise in his throat.

“Look,” I said to Dexter, “all we want you to do is to deliver this case of supplies to the ship tonight. Do that, and you’ll get a hundred. What’s scaring you?”

“And you’re going to travel inside the case,” Dexter said. “To hell with that for an idea. No one’s allowed on that ship without a permit. If they catch you—and they will —they’ll know I had something to do with it. The least Sherrill would do would be to shut down my account.

He’s likely to send someone over to crack my skull. I’m not doing it.”

As I refilled the glasses I glanced at my wrist-watch. It was half-past seven. Time was

moving.

“Listen, Joe,” Mike said, leaning forward, “this guy’s a friend of mine, see? He wants to get aboard that ship. If he wants to get aboard, he’s going to get aboard, see? Sherrill ain’t the only guy who can crack a skull. Do you do the job or do I have to get tough?”

Kerman pulled out his Colt .45 and laid it on the table.

“And when he’s through with you. I’ll start,” he said.

Dexter eyed the Colt and flinched away from Mike’s concentrated glare.

“You guys can’t threaten me,” he said feebly.

“We can try,” Kerman said calmly. “Give you ten seconds before we start something.”

“Don’t crowd the fella,” I said, and took from my wallet ten ten-dollar bills. I spread them out on the table and pushed them towards Dexter. “Come on, take your money and let’s get moving. Sherrill’s washed up. The cops will move in by tomorrow. Cash in while the going’s good.”

Dexter hesitated, then picked up the notes, and rustled them between dirty fingers.

“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else,” he said to Mike.

We finished our drinks, pushed back our chairs and went out on to the water-front. It was a hot-still night, with a hint of rain in the sky. Way out on the horizon I could see the lights of the Dream Ship.

We tramped down an alley to Dexter’s warehouse. It was in darkness. As he unlocked and pushed open the door the smell of tar, oil, damp clothes and rubber came out to greet us. The warehouse was big and cluttered up with cases and coils of rope and bundles tied up in tarred paper, waiting to be delivered to the ships at anchor beyond the harbour. In the middle of the floor was a five-foot square packing-case.

“That’s it,” Dexter said gloomily.

We got busy unpacking the case.

“I want a hammer and a chisel,” I told Dexter.

While he was getting the tools, Kerman said, “You’re sure this is the thing to do?”

I nodded.

“With any luck I’ll have nearly half an hour on board before they expect me to arrive. I can do a lot in that time. When you and Mike come alongside at nine o’clock I’ll start something to give you a chance to board her. After that, it’s each man for himself.”

Dexter came over with the tools.

“Careful how you nail me up,” I said to Kerman. “I want to get out fast.”

Mike waved Dexter away.

“We’ll see to this, pally. Just sit over there and behave.”

He didn’t want Dexter to see the Sten gun Kerman was taking out of the suit-case he had

brought with him. Under cover of Mike’s thickset body, Kerman put the gun at the bottom of

the packing-case.

“You have plenty of room,” he told me. “Sure you wouldn’t like me to go instead?”

I climbed into the case.

“You come with Mike at nine. If there are more than one with Sherrill’s boat, and you don’t think you can handle them, you’ll have to come alone. They’ll think you’re me, anyway. If you hear shooting on board, get Mifflin and a bunch of cops and come out fighting. Okay?”

Kerman nodded. He looked very worried.

“Mike, you come along with Dexter,” I went on. “If he fluffs his lines, knock him on the head and chuck him overboard.”

Scowling ferociously, Mike said he would do just that thing.

When Kerman fitted on the lid there was room enough in the case for me to sit down with my knees drawn up to my chin. Air came through the joints in the case. I reckoned it wouldn’t take me more than a minute or so to get out.

Kerman nailed down the lid, and between the three of them they got the case on to a sack barrow. The journey down to the water-front was pretty rough, and I collected a few bruises by the time they got the case into Dexter’s boat.

The outboard motor started up and chugged us out to sea. The wind, coming through the cracks in the case was sharp, and the motion of the boat as it slapped its way through the rollers bothered me.

Minutes went by, then Mike whispered that we were running alongside the Dream Ship.

A voice yelled from somewhere, and there was some cross talk from the boat to the ship. Someone seemed to be objecting to handling the case at this time of night. Dexter played up well. He said he had to see a sick brother tomorrow, and if the case wasn’t taken on board now, they’d have to wait for the stuff until the following day.

The man on the ship cursed Dexter, and said to stand by while he slung a derrick.

Mike kept me informed of what was going on by whispering through one of the air holes in the case.

After more delay the case jerked violently and rose in the air. I braced myself for a rough landing. It was rough all right. The case crashed down somewhere inside the ship and jarred me to the heels.

The man who had cursed Dexter cursed him again. His voice sounded close, then a door slammed and I was left alone.

I waited, listening, but heard nothing. After a while I decided it would be safe to break out. I tapped the chisel into one of the plank joints, levered the plank back. It took me less than a minute to get out of the case. I found myself in inky darkness. There was a smell like the smell in Dexter’s warehouse, and I guessed I was in the ship’s hold.

I rook out my flashlight and shone the beam around the vast cellar. It was full of stores, liquor and harrels of beer, and empty silence. At the far end of the cellar was a door. I went to it, slid it hack a couple of inches and peered out into a narrow, well-lighted corridor.

I held the Sten gun by my side. I didn’t want to be bothered with it, but Kerman had insisted. He said with a Sten gun I could argue with half the crew. I doubted it, and took it along more for his peace of mind than mine.

I began to edge along the corridor to a perpendicular steel ladder I could see at the far end, and which. I guessed, led to the upper deck. Halfway down the corridor I came to an abrupt halt. A pair of feet, then legs in white drill trousers appeared on the ladder. A second later a sailor stood gaping at me.

He was a big guy: nearly as big as I was, and tough-looking. I pushed the Sten gun at him and showed him my teeth. His hands went up so fast he took the skin off his knuckles against the low ceiling.

“Open your trap and I’ll rip you in half,” I snarled at him.