Love Me and Die by Louis Trimble Read Free Book Online

over tomorrow.”
    Toby took the dismissal with good grace. Probably, I thought, because she didn’t think me worth fighting about. She said to me, “We open the office at eight, Mr. Brogan.” She marched down the hall and out of sight.
    Bonita Jessup put her fingertips on my arm, up where the biceps grow. It wasn’t a touch to ask for my attention. It was a probing of my muscle.
    She said, “This is my secretary’s office. She’s ill this evening. My office is through here, Mr. Brogan.”
    She took her fingers away. I followed her into her office. She took a swivel chair behind an executive desk. I lowered myself into a padded chair.
    She said, “Where would you like to begin, Mr. Brogan?”
    “I said, “I think I’ll leave that decision up to you.”
    She nodded. She said, “Let’s start with Turk Thorne, then, shall we?”
    I thought about playing out my hand and saying, “Who is Turk Thorne, Mrs. Jessup?”
    But one look into those dark eyes changed my mind. They were laughing at me. And behind the laughter was something less humorous, a wariness, a waiting. And knowledge.
    I said, “When you find him, tell him not to telegraph his punches. He’ll last longer that way.”
    “And when will I find him?” she asked. “And where?”
    I said, “He woke up in my office just in time to watch me pass out from drinking the liquor he fixed with a mickey. I slept for nine hours after that, so I can’t help you much.”
    She shook her head. “Turk didn’t dope your liquor, Mr. Coyle, isn’t it?”
    I said, “Is that the way you want it? That I’m Joe Coyle? Or do you like Toby Jessup’s idea better?”
    “We’ll use Toby’s idea for a while,” she said. Nothing knocked her off beat. She had that magnificent mouth turned up in a light smile as if she was enjoying herself. She had the same kind of laughter dancing on the surface of her eyes. She was in superb control of herself.
    She said, “How did Toby get in touch with you?”
    “She came into the office and woke me up,” I said. Since Bonita seemed to know all the essentials, I didn’t feel I was betraying Toby Jessup’s confidence.
    “And she asked you to come here and spy on me?”
    I said, “She asked me to come here to check everybody. That would include you, I suppose.”
    “Check for what?”
    I said, “We hadn’t gotten that far.” I took out my cigarettes and offered her one. She accepted it. I gave her a light. I was surprised my hand didn’t shake. I was close enough to her to smell her perfume. It was gentle at first, but it had a delayed wallop.
    I sat back down and lit a cigarette for myself. I said, “I’m in the dark, Mrs. Jessup. I might as well be frank with you. I came here tonight hoping I could make sense out of a number of things.”
    “What sort of things?”
    She had a way of asking the kind of questions that left me no room for sparring. I stopped playing word games with her. I said, “Things like my office being torn up by Turk Thorne.”
    “Turk didn’t do that,” she said. “He found it that way.”
    I said, “I won’t argue the point—yet.”
    She showed signs of impatience. “What else brought you, Mr. Coyle?”
    I said, “Art Ditmer.”
    She drew on the cigarette. She let the smoke trickle from barely parted lips. She said, “Aren’t you a little premature? I’m not to meet Mr. Ditmer until tomorrow night.”
    I said, “How did you know it was Art you were to meet? He didn’t give a name when he phoned you.”
    She quirked her lips at me in amusement. “You sound terribly like a detective, Mr. Coyle. Am I on trial for something?”
    Thinking about Art Ditmer helped take a little of Bonita’s impact from my system. I said, “That doesn’t answer the question.”
    Her voice was still amused. “If you must know, Turk recognized him and told me there was a detective working in our warehouse. When I got his call, I put two and two together.”
    I said, “Turk was a busy boy. What’s his