Cooper By The Gross (All 144 Cooper Stories In One Volume)

by Bill Bernico

  After dinner Betty cleared the table and began packing the red plaid blanket to sit on during the fireworks display at the lakefront. She packed some candy for the kids and a cooler of lemonade.

  Phil slipped out of his shoulder holster and tee shirt and put on a short-sleeved cotton shirt, tucking it in at the waist. He grabbed his jacket and zipped it up over the top.

  “Don’t you feel a little naked?” I said, pointing to the shoulder rig that hung on his bedpost.

  “I know I’m supposed to be on duty at all times and all that other crap, but tonight I just want to be a normal guy enjoying the festivities with my family. Tell you what, I’ll wear it twice tomorrow, okay?”

  “Well, I’ve still got mine,” I said. “Vacation or not, I never go anywhere without it.”

  “And how’s you love life?” Phil said sarcastically. “Doesn’t that thing get in the way?”

  I buttoned my jacket over my .45 and said nothing. I took the basket holding the lemonade, candy and blanket off the kitchen table and carried it out to the car. Betty and the kids followed close behind. Phil locked up the house and joined us at the curb. The lakefront was a twenty-minute drive under normal circumstances. Tonight it took forty-five minutes to battle the traffic. It reminded me of rush hour in L.A.

  We had to park several blocks away and walk the rest of the way to the lakefront. By now there were already thousands of people on lawn chairs and blankets jockeying for position. It was starting to get dark and the undertone in the crowd told us that soon they’d be starting to light the fireworks.

  I sat on the blanket between Troy and Little Matt. With the first explosion of the skyrockets their eyes got wide with wonder. The thunderous booming made Little Matt cover his ears. He got up from the blanket and stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. Even Troy leaned into me when the next series of explosions shook the park. The sky lit up like a night game at Wrigley Field as the crowd’s collective gasp washed over us.

  “Did you see that one?” Betty said, turning to Little Matt. He didn’t answer. She looked at Troy and me and tried to see around me.

  “Matt,” she said. “Where’s Little Matt?”

  “Right here behind…” I turned around but Little Matt was gone. I looked at Betty. “He probably just wandered off to get a better look. He can’t have gotten very far. I’ll take a look around.”

  I stood up and scanned the immediate area looking for the motion of a little boy wandering. All I saw were thousands of facing staring up into the night sky. I took a few steps away from where we were sitting. I yelled, “Matt. Matt.” No answer.

  I took a few more steps and yelled again. Phil tagged me on the shoulder. “Did you see him?”

  I shook my head. “He’s got to be close by. He was right behind me.”

  Betty joined us, still holding onto Try’s hand. “Philip,” she said frantically, “did you see him?”

  Phil put both hands on Betty’s shoulders. “Don’t panic,” he said. “Matt and I will find him. You stay here and keep an eye on Troy. If we don’t find you shortly, meet us back at the car. Got that?”

  Betty nodded and held tight to Troy’s hand. Phil and I continued scanning the area for Little Matt. We split up agreed to meet back at the fence that kept the spectators away from the area where the fireworks were being detonated.

  I widened my search area, my eyes continually watching for movement. Still nothing. Then I caught a glimpse of a child being led by the hand away from where I stood. I ran toward the couple and caught up with them in a few seconds. I grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him around. The kid turned around at the same time. It wasn’t Little Matt.

  “Sorry,” I said to the man. “Thought you were someone else.

  Another man further north hurried away from me with a small kid in tow. I rushed toward him but lost him in the crowd. Just then Phil found me.

  “Anything?” Phil said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I thought I saw a man and a kid go off in that direction but I lost ‘em. Come on. We’ll spread out up ahead there.

  A few dozen yards north I caught another glimpse of the man and child. The child turned back toward me as he was being dragged away. It was Little Matt.

  “Phil,” I yelled. “Over here.”

  I motioned to Phil to where I’d seen Little Matt and we both ran toward him. Fireworks continued to explode in the night sky and the accompanying sounds drowned out any attempt to yell to Little Matt or the man who was dragging him away.

  Phil stepped over several people who were sitting on the grass and continued toward the fleeing man. Suddenly the man turned and swept a gun from under his coat. He fired at about the same time a skyrocket exploded overhead. Phil went down, grabbing his leg. Blood ran from the wound as Phil sat on the grass trying to stop the bleeding. He pointed toward the man.

  “Don’t lose him, Matt,” he said, wincing in pain.

  I drew my .45 from its holster but knew I didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting Little Matt. If I could be sure of a clean shot I may be able to stop him, but it was too risky. As I got closer the man turned again and fired but his shot went wide and tore a patch of bark off an old oak tree right next to my head.

  I ducked down, keeping my eye on the man. He was getting further away and I was helpless to fire back at him. He made it to the street as a black Buick pulled up. It screeched to a stop and the man crawled into the back seat, pulling Little Matt in with him. The door slammed and the car sped away.

  I couldn’t make out the license plate from where I stood but I noticed that the left rear fender had a crease in it that ran horizontally along the top and ended in a baseball-sized dent at the taillight.

  I ran back to Phil. By now a crowd had gathered around him and a uniformed officer was running toward the crowd. He took one look at me with my hand still wrapped around my .45 and drew his service revolver. He leveled it at me and yelled, “Drop it.” He screamed again, this time louder. “Drop it. NOW.”

  Phil looked up at the cop and yelled, “not him. He’s my brother. He was chasing the man who grabbed my son.”

  I stopped and deposited my piece back under my arm and knelt at Phil’s side. “How bad is it?”

  “Never mind me,” Phil said frantically. “What about Little Matt? Did you see what happened to him?”

  The officer recognized Phil and holstered his weapon. “What happened here, Cooper?”

  I grabbed the cop’s shoulder. “They took his son. Two men in a black Buick with a damaged left rear fender. They sped off west on that street.” I pointed to where I’d seen the car. “Get some more men after them. They can’t have gotten very far.”

  “Did you get a look at the kidnapper?” The cop said to me.

  “Not a good look,” I said. “There was too much commotion and flashing lights overhead. All I saw was the Buick.”

  “Betty,” Phil said. “She won’t know where to find us, Matt. “You’d better try and find her and Troy. I’ll be all right. Officer Baker here will get me to the emergency room. Find Betty and meet me there.”

  I patted Phil on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll find her.”

  I ran back toward the spot where we first sat to watch the fireworks. Betty and Troy were nowhere in the immediate area. I headed back to where we’d parked the car and found her and Troy nervously pacing.

  “Did you find Little Matt,” Betty almost screamed. She looked over my shoulder. “Where’s Phil? What’s going on, Matt?”

  “Come on, Betty,” I said opening the car door for her. “There’s been some trouble and they’re taking Phil to the emergency room.”

  “The emergency room?” She said frantically. “What happened?”

  “There’s been a shooting,” I said. “Phil will be all right but we have to meet him there. He’s gonna need your support.”

  “What about Little Matt?” She said again, this time with more urgency in her voice.

  “I’ll explain on the wa
y,” I said.

  By the time we’d pulled up to the emergency entrance I’d filled Betty in on the situation. She was frantic but being a cop’s wife, she’d learned to subdue her fear in front of Troy. We rushed inside and found the night nurse at the desk. She told us that Phil had been taken into surgery just minutes before we’d arrived. She said she’d have the doctor come out and talk to us when he knew more about Phil’s condition.

  I sat with Betty in the waiting room and tried to comfort her and Troy as best I could. She stared off into space at times, lost in her own little world of grief. The minutes dragged by and I began to pace. After little more than an hour, the doctor came in and stood over Betty.

  “Mrs. Cooper?” he said.

  Betty stood and the doctor held her by the shoulders.

  “Mr. Cooper came through just fine,” he said. “He may limp a little for a few weeks, but he’ll be fine.”

  Betty went limp and sighed. “Thank you, doctor,” she said wearily. “When can I see him?”

  “He’ll be coming out of the anesthetic in about twenty minutes. You can see him then.”

  There was a page for the doctor over the intercom system and he left as quickly as he had come. I sat with Betty and put an arm around her.

  “Phil’s gonna be okay,” I said. “You and Troy stay here and wait for him. You should be there when he wakes up. I’m gonna get back out there and help find Little Matt.”

  “Matt,” Betty said, “Be careful.” She hugged me and whispered in my ear, “please find him.”

  I left the emergency room and drove back to the precinct and looked up Detective Burns. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of having to talk to him again, but so much was riding on finding Little Matt again that I set personal differences aside.

  I found Burns at the front desk talking to the sergeant on duty. His attitude had changed this time and he was genuinely concerned.

  “How’s Phil doing?” He said.

  I nodded. “Doc says he’s gonna be all right. May limp a bit but he’ll make it.”

  “That’s great,” Burns said. “Phil’s a good guy.”

  “Listen,” I said, “I have to apologize for any cracks I made earlier today. It’s just…”

  “Forget it,” Burns said. “We have a little boy to find. Have you found out anything further?”

  “No,” I said. “This was my first stop from the hospital. I was hoping someone here might have reported something we could go on.”

  “Funny you should mention that, Matt,” Burns said. He led me to a desk on the other side of the room where another detective sat talking with an elderly woman.

  “Matt,” Burns said, “This is Mrs. Esterhoff. She and her family were sitting several rows behind you and your brother at the lakefront. She thinks she may have seen the guy who snatched Phil’s kid.”

  I pulled up a chair and sat next to the old woman. “Hi,” I began. “My name’s Cooper. Matt Cooper and the little boy we’re looking for is my nephew. What can you tell me about the man you saw?”

  The woman nervously twisted a small white handkerchief in her lap. “Well, Mr. Cooper, I only saw him briefly when he passed me but I think I got a look at his face. I gave the description to this man here,” she said, motioning to the detective who had taken her statement.

  “Anything unusual about the man?” I said. “Did he have any strange characteristics, or maybe a tattoo or distinct hair style?

  She thought for a moment and then pointed with the hanky. “He looked quite young,” she said. “Maybe early twenties, maybe younger. He had dark hair and dark eyes, but like I said, I only saw him briefly.”

  “Can you recall what he was wearing?” I said.

  She thought for a moment and then it came to her. “He had one of those black jackets with all the zippers and belts and snaps on it and it was open at the waist. I remember thinking how hot that must be in July. He almost stepped on my hand coming past me and I pulled it out of the way of that big black boot.”

  “Do you think you’d recognize him again if you saw him?” Burns said.

  She looked at Burns and then at me. “I think so. At least I’d know him if he still has those marks on his face.”

  “What marks are those?” I said anxiously.

  She ran her left hand down her cheek. “He had several bruises on this side of his face. I remember thinking how strange they looked.”

  “Strange?” Burns said.

  “Perfectly round,” she said. “Maybe a dozen of them all bunched up. Like a bunch of grapes.”

  “Or marbles,” I said. “Did he say or do anything that you recall?”

  She shook her head. “No, he just grabbed the boy by the hand and pulled him up the grassy hill from where I was sitting. There were so many fireworks going off that no one could hear what the boy was saying but he didn’t look like he wanted to go with this man.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Esterhoff,” Burns said and nodded to the other detective who immediately led the woman to another room full of mug shot books.

  “Mean anything to you, Matt?” Burns said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Earlier Little Matt and I had a run-in with two punks in the alley near his house. They tried to mug me but I ended up belting one of ‘em in the face with a sock full of marbles. I took both their wallets and said they could pick them up here when Phil brought them in tomorrow. That would explain the grape-shaped bruises on his face. And she described the same clothes he was wearing earlier.”

  “You recall the names in those wallets?” Burns said.

  I thought for a moment. “I don’t remember the tough guy’s sidekick, but the guy with the knife was named Carmine something or other. Give me a second. It’ll come back to me.”

  “Solotto?” Burns said, as if it was a familiar name.

  “That’s it,” I said. “Carmine Solotto.”

  “Then his minion would be Mario Lewis,” Burns added.

  “That’s Marion,” I said. “Claims it’s a typo.”

  “Burns shook his head. “Those two gave me more grief these past few years. I tell ya, if I had a nickel for every time we hauled those two in…” He didn’t have a finish for his sentence.

  “And you couldn’t make anything stick?” I said.

  “Juveniles,” Burns said in disgust. “Courts just kept letting ‘em go with a slap on the wrist.”

  “Well,” I said, “They’re both adults now and when I get my hands on ‘em they’ll wish…”

  “Careful, Cooper,” Burns said. “That sounds like vigilante talk.”

  “Call it what you want, but if I get the kid back in one piece, Carmine is mine.”

  “Let’s just get the kid back first,” Burns reminded me. “Then you can worry about their punishment. Meanwhile, don’t do anything that will jeopardize our case if and when we bring them in. Understand?”

  I nodded ever so slightly. “You must have a file on Solotto. Where’s he live?”

  “I’m way ahead of you, Cooper. Come on, you can ride with me.” He led me out the front door and into a plain-looking sedan parked at the curb. “We’ll take a ride to his last known address and have a look around.”

  We rode most of the way in silence, speaking only when Burns parked at the curb half a block from his destination. “See that brown brick townhouse?” he said. “It was Solotto’s last known address. You take the back and I’ll cover the front. Gimme thirty seconds before you go in. “

  I carefully made my way around to the back and took up a position alongside the rear porch. I looked at my watch and counted to myself. At the thirty-second mark, I pulled my .45 and waited. I could hear Burns pounding on the front door. He pounded again and again with no results. Suddenly the back door flew open and a young kid, maybe in his late teens, leapt off the porch and landed almost directly in front of me. He stopped dead in his tracks when the barrel of my automatic touched his nose.

  “That’s right,” I said. “Just stay right there.” I yelled over my should
er, “Back here, Burns.”

  Burns came out the back door, his service revolver drawn. He looked down at the situation and smiled at me. “That little bastard can run,” he said, breathing heavily himself. He came down off the porch and took a position alongside the kid.

  “Hello, Mario,” he said.

  “Marion,” I said, chuckling to myself. Marion snarled at me.

  Burns grabbed Marion’s collar and lifted. “Where’s the kid?”

  Marion’s eyes widened. “I don’t know anything about any kid,” he said. “I was home all night here by myself.”

  “Yeah,” I said, shoving the .45 harder against his nose. “Where’s Solotto?”

  “Who?” he said innocently.

  “Carmine,” Burns almost yelled at him. “Where’s Carmine and the kid?”

  “I don’t know anything about any kid,” Marion repeated.

  “Then what do you know?” I demanded

  “I don’t…” Marion started to say before I pulled the hammer back. He looked in my eyes and knew I meant business.

  “Honest,” he said. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “With what?” Burns said.

  “You know,” Marion said.

  “No,” I said. “Suppose you tell us.”

  “Look,” Marion said, “I didn’t want anything to do with it, see? Carmine had this plan but I wouldn’t go along with him.” He looked back and forth between Burns and me. Our expressions hadn’t changed.

  “I’m on the level,” he said. “It was Carmine that was sore about what you did to us in the alley. Said he’d get even. That’s all I know, I swear.”

  Burns backhanded him in the face. A small drop of blood trickled out of Marion’s nose. “Hey,” he almost screamed. “You can’t…”

  Burns hit him again. “Can’t what? Did you see anything, Matt?”

  “Must have fallen down trying to run from us,” I said. “In fact, it looks like he’s getting ready to fall down again.” I drew my hand back and Marion flinched.

  “All right, all right,” he said. “What do you wanna know?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Burns said casually. “Just where to find Carmine and the kid is all.”