Free Lay Her Among The Lilies by James Hadley Chase Page B

him in the ribs. He grunted again, but his fingers, like steel hooks, dug into my windpipe.

    Then I really went for him. I knew once he weakened me I was done for, and that paralysing grip on my throat could sap my strength in seconds if I didn't break his hold. I hammered at his ribs, then, as he still clung on, I dug my fingers into his eyes.

    He gave a sharp screech, let go of my throat and staggered back. I went after him, belting him about the body. He held his eyes and took what I handed out. There was nothing much he could do about it, and I hammered him to his knees. There was no point in breaking my fists on him, so I stepped back and waited for him to uncover. His breath came in short sobbing gasps. He tried to get to his feet, but couldn't make it. Groaning, he dropped his hands to hoist himself up, and that was what I was waiting for. I measured him, swung a punch at him that came up from the sand and connected on the point of his jaw. He went over backwards, flopped about, scrabbling in the sand like a wounded squirrel, started climbing to his feet, fell over and straightened out.

    I went over to him. He was out all right, and, looking down at the blood running out of the corners of his eyes, I felt sorry for him. I didn't mean to hurt him as badly as that, but it was his life or mine, and at least I hadn't killed him.

    I leaned forward and pulled the thick leather belt from around his waist, rolled him over and strapped his hands behind him. I took off my belt and lashed it around his ankles.

    He was too heavy to carry and I wanted to get to my phone and my gun. I thought he would be all right until I got back, and I turned and pelted towards the cabin.

    It took me a couple of minutes to wake up Mifflin again. This time he sounded as mad as a hornet you've slapped with a fly-whisk.

    "All right, all right," I said. "I've got Dwan here."

    "Dwan?" Anger went out of his voice. "With you?"

    "Yeah. Come on. Get the boys and the wagon. I want some sleep to-night."

    "Dwan! But Brandon said . . ."

    "To hell with what Brandon said!" I bawled. "Come on out and get him."

    "Keep your shirt on," Mifflin said dismally. "I'm coming."

    As I slammed down the receiver, a gun went off with a choked bang somewhere out on the dunes. I made two quick jumps to my wardrobe, flung open the door and grabbed the .38. I was back at the front door almost before the echo of the shot had died away. I didn't rush out into the moonlight. I stood looking around, just in the shadow of the verandah, seeing nothing, hearing nothing and feeling spooked.

    Then somewhere behind the palmetto trees a car started up and drove away with a rapid change of gears.

    I sneaked down the verandah steps, holding my gun waist high, down the garden path and across the moonlit stretch of sand. The sound of the departing car became fainter and fainter, and finally died away.

    I reached Benny Dwan and stood over him. Someone had shot him in the head, firing very close. The bullet had smashed in the side of his skull and burned his squashed ear with the gun flash.

    He looked very harmless and lonely. He also looked very dead.

IV

    The little blonde who looked after the PBX in the outer office gave me a coy little smile as I pushed open the frosted panel door on which was inscribed in gold letters: Universal Services, and on the right-hand bottom corner, in smaller letters: Execu tive Director: Victor Malloy .

    "Good morning, Mr. Malloy," she said, showing her nice white little teeth. She had a snub nose and puppy-dog manners. You felt you had only to pat her for her to wag her tail. A nice kid. Eighteen if she was a day, and only two heart throbs: me and Bing Crosby.

    The two kids sitting behind typewriters, also blondes and also puppies, smiled the way Bobby-soxers smile and also said, "Good morning, Mr. Malloy."

    Mr. Malloy looked his harem over and said it was a swell morning.

    "Miss Bensinger is over at County Buildings. She may be a little