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

by Bill Bernico

  After my shower, I decided against my regular suit of clothes in favor of a regular pair of slacks and a sport shirt. I could blend in anywhere in that outfit. I had a quick lunch and drove over to the public library and settled myself in among the tomes. I’d selected several books on horse racing and track betting. Before I left there a few hours later, I knew enough about the subject to be able to converse intelligently about it with anyone.

  Dan’s office was just a few minutes from the library so I decided to stop by and fill him in on what I’d learned and what I was planning. He wasn’t in his office when I got there, but his secretary, Hannah was at her desk just outside Dan’s office.

  “Hey doll,” I said, sidling up alongside her desk and resting half of my butt on the edge.

  Hannah looked up and smiled. “Hey, Matt,” she said. “You look different without your suit and hat. You working undercover?”

  “Depends,” I said.

  “Depends?” Hannah said. “Depends on what?”

  “On whose covers I’m under,” I said, winking.

  Hannah blushed and smiled but looked away. “Matt,” she said. “One of these days you’re gonna come on to the wrong woman and POW.”

  “You think some woman’ll take it wrong and slug me?” I said.

  “No,” Hannah explained. “You’re gonna find yourself married again one of these days. Why, if I wasn’t already married, well…” She didn’t have a finish for her thought.

  I pinched her cheek. “And if I was looking, you’d be the first one on my list.”

  “You got a list?” Hannah said.

  “Just a short one,” I said. “But your name would be right up there in the number one spot.”

  Dan walked up, a coffee cup in his left hand. He laid his right hand on my shoulder. “Harassing my staff again, Cooper?”

  “Yup,” I said, winking again at Hannah and sliding off her desk.

  “Did you want something?” Dan said.

  “Not really,” I said. “Just thought I’d fill you in on that matter we discussed earlier.” I looked down at Hannah, who seemed absorbed in what I was saying. She quickly looked away and pretended to be sorting files.

  “Come on in my office,” Dan said. He turned to Hannah. “No calls for the next five minutes.”

  I closed the door behind me and sat across the desk from Dan. He set his coffee cup down, loosened his tie and sat. “You talk to Mary?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We had a nice chat about Clark. The guy sounds like a real scumbag. She told me he hangs out at the track on Wednesdays and weekends. I figured I’d drop by there tomorrow and see if I can run into him and get him talking. He doesn’t know me.”

  “Yeah, well just the same,” Dan said. “You be careful with that guy. If he’d try to have his wife killed, he wouldn’t think twice about making it a two-for-one.”

  “You mean the Daily Double?” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “That a horse racing term,” I explained. “I spent that last couple of hours at the library boning up on my horse racing vernacular. Don’t want to sound ignorant when I go up against Montgomery.”

  “You actually gonna bet on the horses?” Dan said.

  “Naw, I’m not that stupid,” I explained. “There will no doubt be thousands of tickets lying all over the floor and grounds of that place. When someone loses a race, they either tear their tickets up or just toss ‘em on the ground. I’ll just pick up a couple of tickets from past races and keep ‘em in my pocket. Once I can establish some sort of rapport with Montgomery, I can always make believe I have money down on the race and when my horse loses, I can ceremoniously tear the ticket up and toss the pieces in the air like a professional loser would.”

  “Aren’t you the clever one?” Dan said. “What happens if your horse wins and Montgomery wants to walk with you to the window to collect your winnings?”

  “I won’t show him the ticket or tell him which horse I’m betting on,” I said. “I’ll just watch the race, find out which horse is running last, check the scoreboard for its name and start yelling for him. I can be convincing at playing frustrated.”

  “Could work,” Dan said. “So what happens if he does open up to you?”

  “Still can’t nab him unless he actually does something to her, can we?” I said.

  “That’s the frustrating part,” Dan said. “Unless we have hard evidence or catch him in the act, we can’t touch him.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Before I’m finished with him, he’ll be calling me for advice on how to finish his wife off.”

  “Well,” Dan said. “If it gets that far, let me know and I’ll cover your back.”

  “I think we have a plan, Dan,” I said, rising from the chair and turning toward the door. I opened the door far enough to be heard outside and turned back to Dan and added, “Now, if you don’t mind, I wasn’t finished harassing Hannah.”

  “You leave Hannah alone,” Dan said. “She has enough to do without you bothering her.”

  I peeked out at Hannah and smiled. She winked and smiled back, but immediately walked away from her desk. I took the hint and left the building. It was going to be a big day at the track tomorrow and I needed to rest for a while at home.

  Back home again I grabbed the morning paper and went to the sports section. I found yesterday’s race results and made a few notes to myself in case I needed something to talk about to get a foot in the door with Montgomery. I laid the paper down, tucked my notes away and settled in for a relaxing evening with my console radio.

  I was up early the next day, dressed in my casual wear and comfortable shoes. It took me thirty minutes to make it to the Santa Anita race trace. It was situated in Arcadia, just west of Pasadena and had a breathtaking view of the San Gabriel Mountains for a backdrop. It took me another five minutes to walk from my car to the admittance gate. Who needed jogging with exercise like this?

  I found a table near the betting windows. There were already several men sitting there eating hot dogs and drinking beer. I couldn’t imagine having hot dogs for breakfast, let alone beer. These must have been the hardcore racetrack enthusiasts and their waistlines proved it. Every one of them was out of shape and looked like they hadn’t slept in three days. They had the stubble on their chins that told me that horse racing and hot dogs were more important than personal hygiene.

  I slipped Clark Montgomery’s photo from my shirt pocket and looked it over, locking his image in my mind. If and when he came to the betting window I would be ready for him. I had no idea what my opening line was going to be. I’d have to wing it, depending on the situation.

  Several races had already run this morning and I spent the next few minutes casually picking up tickets from the floor. It was creeping up on eleven o’clock when I spotted Montgomery taking his place in line at the betting window. He played against type and showed up clean-shaven and well dressed. He looked like he knew what he was doing. I was close enough to overhear his transaction. He put down bets on the next two races, pocketed his tickets and walked away from the window. I followed at a safe distance and watched where he sat. I found a seat directly behind him and settled in to watch the races. The announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker yelling, “And they’re off.”

  I watched as the horses ran the oval track, making believe that I was actually interested in the outcome. Montgomery stood in front of me, yelling and waving his ticket. A pair of binoculars hung from his neck and he stopped yelling long enough to track his horse around the clubhouse turn. In the home stretch Montgomery got even more animated with his yelling and waving. I had no idea which horse he’d bet on, but from his body language, I gathered that it was one of the frontrunners.

  As the horses dashed past the finish line, Montgomery’s fist came down fast, clutching the ticket. He swore a blue streak and ripped the ticket in half and then in half again, throwing the pieces into the air. I followed suit and tore up my ticket as well, copying Montgomery’s style of curs
ing and pouting and carrying on.

  “Damn horse,” I yelled. “Might as well ride him directly to the glue factory.”

  Montgomery turned to see where the noise was coming from. We made eye contact and I continued my rant against the imaginary horse that had failed to make me a winner.

  “Didn’t quite make it, huh?” I said to Montgomery.

  “That nag was out in front for most of the homestretch and then just lost steam at the finish line,” Montgomery said.

  “Which one did you have your money on?” I asked.

  “I had it all down on Sam’s Choice to win,” Montgomery said. “Damned horse came in fifth, the useless nag.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “I had my money down on that same horse. Luckily I only bet five bucks or I’d really be pissed.”

  “Five bucks?” Montgomery said dismissively. “That’s no loss. That’s the cost of entertainment. Hell, I had a C-note down on Sam’s Choice and that walking glue pot would have paid out at three to one.”

  “Well,” I said, “three times nothing is still nothing.”

  Montgomery thought about it for a second and then broke out in a hearty laugh. “I’ll have to remember that one,” he said. “Three times nothing.”

  I kicked at my ticket pieces and then looked up at Montgomery, extending my hand. “Matt Coulter,” I said.

  “Matt,” Montgomery said, taking my hand and pumping it. “Clark Montgomery. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” I said. I released his hand and tried to look thoughtful before offering, “Who do you have your bet down on for the next race?”

  Montgomery held up his ticket, kissed it and dropped it back in his pocket. “Uh uh,” he said. “It’s bad luck to tell before the race.”

  “I know,” I said. “Guess I just forgot myself there for a minute.” I held up another ticket I’d found on the floor. I didn’t kiss it, but instead pressed it to my forehead and then stuffed it into my shirt pocket. “Can I buy you a beer?” I said.

  “Thanks, but no,” Montgomery said. “I never drink at the track, leastwise not alcohol. I could go for a Coke if you still wanna buy a round. Next round’s on me.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said and hurried off to the refreshment stand. I returned a couple of minutes later with two paper cups of Coke, handing one to Montgomery and sipping from the other one. “Here’s to...” Then I caught myself. “Oops, almost gave my choice away.”

  Montgomery touched cups with me and we drank to our respective winners, even thought the horse on my tickets had already run earlier in the day. I sat in my seat, ready to watch for the next race. Montgomery gestured toward the seat next to him.

  “Matt,” he said.” Come on down and join me. No one’s sitting here.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I said, climbing over the rail and settling into the seat next to Montgomery. We both sipped from our paper cups, neither of us sure what to say next.

  In my private life, one of the things I liked to do was collect useless trivia that centered around show business. I was the type of guy who liked to stay in the theaters after the movie had ended so I could read the credits at the end. I stored this and other movie trivia in the back of my mind, ready to spring it on unsuspecting victims when the chance presented itself. Now was as good a time as any to unload some of what I knew on Montgomery.

  “Nice place they got here,” I said. “Just look at those mountains. Man I love it here.”

  “Me too,” Montgomery said. “Been coming here since they opened it up fourteen years ago.”

  “You know anything about show business?” I asked.

  “More than some, not as much as others,” he said.

  “Did you know,” I began, “that The Marx Brothers filmed A Day At The Races right here at Santa Anita? It’s true. Ever seen the movie?”

  “Once,” Montgomery said. “It never dawned on me that this was that track.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ve been here enough times myself and once I even saw Cary Grant and another time I spotted Lana Turner in the stands.”

  “No kidding,” Montgomery said. “Wish I’d been there that day. She’s one of my favorites.”

  “Were you here eight years ago when Seabiscuit won?” I said.

  “In this very seat,” Montgomery said, pointing down to the seat beneath him.

  “Well,” I said, “I’ve been reading the trade journals and it’s rumored that they’re going to making a movie based on Seabiscuit’s win here. I hear tell that Shirley Temple is going to play the lead in that one.”

  “I’ll have to try to make it down here for that,” Montgomery said. “Always did like that little moppet.”

  “She’s not so little anymore,” I said. “She’s twenty already and married with a daughter.”

  “Time certainly does fly, doesn’t it?” Montgomery said.

  I’d pretty much exhausted my show business trivia as far as any connection Santa Anita was concerned. We fell silent for a few moments when I remembered something else I’d just read at the library the other day. I turned to Montgomery.

  “Do you remember when they shut this track down during the war?” I said.

  “Do I remember?” he said. “Those were the longest three years of my life. They turned this place into the Jap internment center during the war. Must have been fifteen thousand of ‘em camped out there in the center of the track.”

  “I think it was closer to seventeen thousand,” I said. “I remember coming by here to get a look at the crowds. I’d never seen anything like it before or since.”

  “Well, at least they’re up and running again,” Montgomery said. “And that’s the way I like it.”

  I looked down at my used tickets and decided to switch subjects. I broke the ice with a complaint against my imaginary wife.

  “You know,” I said. “I could have a lot better time if I could just win one stupid race and bring home a few bucks. That would keep the wife off my back for a while.”

  “How’s that?” Montgomery said, turning toward me.

  “Oh, I don’t want to bore you with my troubles,” I said, playing hard to get.

  “No, go ahead,” Montgomery said. “You mentioned something about your wife.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “I’ve been to the track several times before and always either lost money or broke even. Just once I wish I could bring home a jackpot and shut that old bag up once and for all. I tell you, it never ends.”

  “I hear you, my friend,” Montgomery said. “Mine’s always on my back, too, only her constant beef is about how much money I make, or don’t make, I should say. I don’t see why I should have to work at all. She has enough money for both of us to live on but she won’t share any of it.”

  “Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” I said.

  “You’re damned right,” Montgomery said. “Whatever I make she considers our money, but her money is hers. Now I tell you, where’s the justice in that?”

  “Nothin’ we can do about it, I’m afraid,” I said. “Life’s a bitch and then you marry one.”

  Montgomery spit out the Coke he’d just sipped, wiped his chin and laughed out loud. “And then you marry one,” he repeated. “Boy, you’re just full of clever sayings, aren’t you?”

  “Well, it’s true,” I said. “I didn’t sign up for the shit she’s been giving me. I wish the hell I’d stayed single.”

  Montgomery set his paper cup down and turned toward me. “You and me both, brother,” he said. “You and me both.” He turned back toward the track just as the announcer let everyone know that the horses were in the starting gates.

  I turned to face Montgomery and said, “You know, for...”

  Just then the horses left the starting gate and Montgomery was on his feet, yelling and waving and looking through his binoculars. I held the rest of my sentence until the horses rounded the last turn and headed for home. I stood next to Montgomery, yelling like the maniac that I felt like. As the hors
es got closer to the finish line, Montgomery’s enthusiasm reached a fever pitch and he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Yes.” He waved his ticket over his head and kissed it again, turning toward me to shake the ticket in my face.

  “That, my boy is how it’s done,” he said, smiling from ear to ear.

  “I take it you won,” I said, keeping the smile off my face to go with the part I was trying to play.

  “You bet your sweet ass I won,” Montgomery said, staring at his ticket. “Four to one on a hundred dollar bet.”

  I tore up my used ticket and scattered the pieces to the wind. “And I’m out another five bucks. That’s all for me today.”

  “I’m quitting while I’m ahead, too,” Montgomery said. “Come on, Matt. Walk me to the ticket window so I can cash in and we can go someplace for a real drink—my treat.”

  “You’re on,” I said, keeping up with him as he made is way to the payout window.

  Montgomery collected his four hundred dollars and stuffed the money into his wallet, closing it with a flourish and sticking it in his pants pocket. He turned to me. “Where are you parked, Matt?”

  “Back end of the lot,” I said.

  Montgomery’s Lincoln was parked in the second spot away from the gate. “Come on, Matt, I’ll give you a lift to your car.”

  “Great,” I said, sliding in beside Montgomery and fawning over the car’s interior appointments. “Looks like you’re doing all right for yourself.”

  “Not really,” Montgomery said. “It’s hers, like everything else. Oh, I get to use it, but she makes sure that I remember that it’s really hers. Makes me sick sometimes.”

  “Hold that thought,” I said, pointing to my Olds. “This is where I get out. Where did you want to go from here?”

  Montgomery thought for a moment. “I know this place over on Sunset that has the best martinis. Follow me in your car and stay with me. I’ve only been to this place twice before so I couldn’t even tell you the address, but I can show you how to get there.”

  “Lead on,” I said, sliding beneath the wheel of my Olds and starting it up. I signaled to Montgomery and we both left the parking lot.