Read Copp In The Dark, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series) for Free Online

let go, hell kill you. You don't, I’ll kill you."
           "Let's just talk about it and not kill anybody," I suggested. "Maybe we have a common cause that needs to be explored first."
           I released the guy and pushed him away in the same movement. He rubbed the elbow and turned a respectful eye on me, then said to the other, "Let's listen."
           "Other way around," I corrected him. I’ve already taken all the lumps I intend to take from you two. Maybe I can respect it if I know why, but not this way. So why don't you explain it to me. First, which is Dobbs and which is Harney?"
           Larry grimaced and replied, I’m Dobbs."
           So the other was Jack Harney. He was carefully lighting a cigarette and coolly checking me out over the flame from his lighter. "Don't give this jerk too much comfort," he growled to his partner.
           "No, I think, we should talk to him again," said Dobbs.
           "Forget it," I warned, "if it's going to be no different than the first time. Don't you guys really think you're just a bit too much? Who the hell do you hope to impress with the tough guy act? Talk sense to me and I can talk sense back. But if all you want is a rumble, well okay, I can do that too."
           "I think he can," Dobbs said ruefully.
           The other one sighed, took a deep pull from his cigarette and fixed me with a cold stare. "Some guys are just congenital assholes," he growled.
           I said, "Right, but I won't hold it against you if you won't hold it against me. Where's your witness?"
           "What?"
           "Don't tell me you're moonlighting as waiters because you need extra cash. Your witness. The understudy is doing the show tonight, or didn't you notice?"
           Harney did not take murderous eyes off me but his next statement was obviously directed toward his partner.
    “Take a look."
    We stood there and measured each other with our eyes at ten paces while Dobbs ran back inside the theater. The next words were his as he danced back into view and called from the doorway: "He's right!   It's Lunceford !"
    Harney dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, said to me in a cold voice, "Later," and walked quickly back inside.
    But I could not wait for later. I had already reaffirmed my earlier decision. I knew that I had to become the cop in the case.
     
    I didn't know where else to go at the moment so I went back inside and watched the rest of the show from the back wall of the theatre. So far I'd apparently struck out twice in trying to return the retainer and still didn't know who I'd actually been talking with that night in the lounge. I was not getting any clues from the people on stage and there was no sign of Dobbs or Harney out front.
    The maitre d' brought me coffee during intermission and this time I accepted it. Patrons were milling around, trying to divide their time between fancy desserts and the rest rooms, lot of traffic back and forth past my position at the wall.
    At some time during all that, someone slipped the now worn envelope into my coat pocket. I didn't discover it until just before the curtain opened. The ten one-hundred dollar bills had been gathered up and neatly re-enclosed. There was also a scrawled note from "Elaine" which read: "Meet me at the stage exit after the show."
    The name Elaine Suzanne surfaced immediately from my earlier study of the cast file. Age twenty-four, graduate
    of UCLA school of drama, single, a background in half a dozen community theater productions in the L.A. area, now cast as Dulcinea , the object of Quixote's affection. I watched her closely during the balance of the play, a strikingly pretty woman with long black hair and dancing eyes, and now and then I did pick up a head movement, a gesture that could tie her to my whisperer, though nothing whatever in the voice. Of course, these people were trained 'm voices and could probably sound like most anything a role may