Love Me and Die by Louis Trimble Read Free Book Online Page A

stake in all this?”
    “In all what?” she said. She was mocking me.
    I said, “Art came here looking for some kind of trouble. He told you over the phone he had information about your company. You immediately agreed to meet him. That means you have a problem.”
    “You can add two and two also,” she said.
    I said angrily, “I’m not here to play games, Mrs. Jessup. Art Ditmer is my partner. He’s also my friend. He came here on an undercover investigation. According to you, he was recognized by Turk Thorne. And he made a date with you for tomorrow night. I learned all this from his reports. He phoned his last one to Tucson on Sunday.”
    I leaned forward and butted my cigarette. “Since then he hasn’t been heard from. In simple words, he’s disappeared.”
    I leaned back. “What kind of an answer do you think I should get when I add all this up?”
    She stopped smiling; the laughter went out of her eyes. She leaned forward, the cigarette curling smoke up between her fingers. Her eyes fixed themselves intently on my face.
    She said, “Turk has disappeared too. What kind of answer should I get?”
    I wondered briefly whether I should tell her about Turk Thorne. I dropped the idea. It wasn’t my business to tell anyone. Not yet. Not until I knew more about where Art Ditmer stood. And not until I could get myself clear of the possible frame ready to drop over me.
    I said, “Let’s stop sparring, shall we? You sent Turk Thorne to Tucson to search Art’s office and mine for the Jessup file. Isn’t that right?”
    She said, “Perhaps I did, perhaps I didn’t. For the sake of argument, let’s say I did.”
    She was cool, completely self-possessed. Pinning her down might be a harder job than I could handle. But I had to have some answers. I had to know what Art had learned about Jessup Trucking. Or what someone thought he had learned. I had to find out for Art’s sake and for my own. And I didn’t think I had very much time left in which to work.
    I said, “Let’s say you did. Thorne offered to tell me something about Art in exchange for the Jessup file. That was last night or early this morning, however you want to look at it. But Art hasn’t reported since Sunday.”
    She was running even with me and ready to take the rail and go ahead. She said, “Are you trying to say that I caused Art Ditmer’s disappearance?”
    I said, “That’s right.”
    “Why would I?”
    “Because you thought he had sent reports about you back to the office. And you were afraid of what might be in those reports.”
    She smiled again, showing fine white teeth. She stubbed out the cigarette smoldering between her fingers. She took another cigarette from a box on her desk. She lit it with a book match.
    She blew out the match with a thin puff of smoke. She said, “Why should I have anything to be afraid of, Mr. Coyle?”
    She had a disconcerting way of putting everything in the form of a question, putting me on the defensive by forcing me to frame an answer.
    I said, “If you haven’t anything to be afraid of, you’ll tell me what the trouble is here.”
    She sat for a long moment. She took a deep, thoughtful drag on her cigarette. She shut her eyes and pressed fingertips lightly to the lids. In a lot of women, the whole act would have had a phony touch. But not the way Bonita Jessup did it. She was thinking, and thinking hard.
    She opened her eyes. She said, “There is no trouble, no trouble at all.”
    Anger pushed me to my feet. I yelled, “Art Ditmer was here, checking your company out. And now he’s disappeared. Turk Thorne comes to my office and tears the place apart and dopes me. If he didn’t, someone else did. Toby Jessup came to me for help. I add that together and get ‘trouble’ for an answer.”
    She said, “Are you trying to let everyone know why you’re here?”
    I took a deep breath. She made me feel a little like a fool. But not for long. I was still too burned up. I said, “If you won’t tell