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

by Bill Bernico

  Dean signaled me to go around to the right while he went around the left. I got to the back door a few steps ahead of Dean. There were two men dressed in expensive gray suits lying in the hallway. Each man had been shot twice in the chest. The two officers who’d gone around to the back door stood there with their guns drawn and still pointing at the men they’d shot just seconds earlier. One of the officers motioned to Dean.

  “There’s still one more somewhere in the building,” he said, pointing to a stairway to my right. “He ran up there.”

  The four of us took the steps two at a time and when we got to the top of the stairs we split up in pairs. Dean and I padded lightly down a hall that ended in a dead end. The two officers went the opposite way down a hall of their own. We tried the doorknobs at each door as we passed. All were locked. The last door on the left was not. Dean signaled me and we each took up a position on either side of the door. On Dean’s signal we burst into the room, each of us pointing our guns in opposite directions.

  Sitting in a chair straight ahead of us I saw Elliott. His arms and legs had been bound to the chair and he had a gag in his mouth. His left eye was swelled shut and blood ran from his nose. When he saw Dean and me, his right eye opened very wide and it kept shifting from down to up and repeated this motion. I looked up into the rafters of this fancy office. There was some sort of string threaded through several metal eyes. It went straight down to the back of Elliott’s chair. Above, the string followed the beam to the west end of the room and then down. As I approached Elliott, he tried to shake his head and I immediately stopped and took a closer look at the string.

  I stepped lightly behind Elliott’s chair and saw that the string had ended in the pin of a hand grenade. I stepped over to where the other end of the string connected with the floor again. It too was connected to the pin of another grenade. But the grenade was also connected to a spring attached to the floor. I signaled Dean to stay clear and stay put. I tiptoed over to Elliott and pulled the gag out of his mouth.

  He let out a breath and whispered, “Don’t try to take me out of the chair. They have it rigged with some sort pressure sensitive device attached to the seat. If I get up it releases the pressure and pulls the pin.

  “What if I just cut the string above the pin?” I said.

  “No good,” Elliott said. “If you cut the string on this end, it’ll release the pressure on the other end, the spring will pull the grenade down, leaving the pin dangling.”

  I turned to Dean. “We’ll have to do this together. You grab the grenade by the wall, I’ll grab this one and we’ll both cut the string at the same time. You ready?”

  Dean nodded and stepped over to the grenade by the wall. He grabbed it and the pin and then looked at me. I grabbed the grenade attached to the chair and nodded to Dean. We both snipped the string ends and stood up each holding a grenade. Just then the other two officers came into the room, their guns drawn. When they saw the situation, they holstered their weapons. Dean called them over and they each took one of the grenades from each of us.

  “Take those outside, someplace safe and call the bomb squad,” Dean said.

  “Yes sir,” one of the officers said. They both left the room, walking slowly and deliberately back to the stairway.

  I bent over and untied Elliott’s hands and feet and pulled him to a standing position.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  Elliott shrugged. “I guess, all things considered,” he said.

  “Who did this to you?” Dean said.

  “I never saw a face,” Elliott said. “Two guys grabbed me outside of your house, hit me, slipped some sort of black bag over my head and hit me again, several times. When I came to, I was lying on my back with the bag still on my head. Some guy grabbed me by the shirt and started asking me questions about Harrington.”

  “What’d you tell him?” I said.

  “There wasn’t anything I could tell him,” Elliott explained. “They didn’t believe me at first, but I just kept telling them that someone killed Harrington before he got the chance to stop by my office. I guess they believed me after a while. Then I got knocked out again and when I came to, I was tied to this chair. Then you showed up and that’s about all there is to tell. What’s going on, dad?”

  I explained how I’d found Peggy Harrington’s diary and that she had named Grant Dixon among her clientele.

  “And he’s married,” Elliott said. “Not to mention what it could do to his career in politics.”

  “Speaking of careers,” I said, “We found someone else’s name in Peggy Harrington’s diary.”

  “Yeah?” Elliott said. “Who’s?”

  I paused and looked at Dean and back at Elliott. “Yours,” I said.

  “Mine?” Elliott said, genuinely surprised. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m afraid so,” I said. “The strange part was that with the other names, there were figures ranging from a hundred to five hundred and even one for a thousand next to Dixon’s name. But every time your name was mentioned the figure was twenty-five dollars and never more.”

  “Wait a minute,” Elliott said. “Did you ever get a good look at this Peggy’s face? The only picture I ever saw was the one in the paper but she was lying in the street and I couldn’t see her face.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “There was a picture of her in her bedroom back at Wendell’s house. Why?”

  “What did she look like?” Elliott said. “Describe her for me.”

  Dean stepped up and pulled his notepad out and flipped to the page with Peggy Harrington’s stats on it. “Five-four, a hundred twenty, blue, blonde, a tattoo of…”

  “Of a starfish,” Elliott said.

  “How’d you know?” Dean asked. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You would know, wouldn’t you?”

  “It’s not what you think,” Elliott explained. “I never made the connection. She didn’t go by Peggy when I knew her. No, her street name was, let me think, Doreen. That’s it, she went by Doreen.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So she went by Doreen. So what. Your name is still in her diary with twenty-five dollar notations.”

  “Yeah,” Elliott said. “It would be. A few months ago I was working on a case involving a wandering husband. You remember, dad, the guy went out every Tuesday and when his wife got suspicious she hired us?”

  “I do remember a case like that,” I said. “How’s it connected?”

  “Well, the guy was seeing one of Doreen’s, uh Peggy’s friends and I got Peggy to help me with the surveillance. And each time she did, I paid her.”

  “Twenty-five dollars,” Dean said.

  “That’s right,” Elliott said. “The hundred dollars I eventually paid her came back in the money the wife paid us when we brought her the evidence that her husband was a cheating dog.”

  I sighed. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  Elliott pointed at me. “You thought I was one of her Johns?” he said. “Come on, dad, you know me better than that. I’m too tight with a buck to ever pay for it. Hell, if anything, I could get them to pay me, but let’s not go there, either. Okay?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, helping Elliott out of the room and down the stairs.

  When we got outside, there were three more squad cars, their red lights flashing. There was an ambulance and the medical examiner’s car there also. Some members of the press caught wind of the killings of the two officers from car eleven. A photographer was snapping pictures of the scene as well.

  Dean, Elliott and I made it back to Dean’s car. Elliott rested against the back door, rubbing his sore wrists, and looked at me.

  “What about Dixon?” Elliott said.

  “He can’t get far,” Dean said. “We’ll be able to pick him up tonight yet. He’s got nowhere to go.”

  Dean drove to the emergency room entrance and I made sure a doctor checked Elliott out for a concussion or anything else potentially serious. After thirty minutes Elliott emerged from behind the curtain wearing
a white bandage on his forehead. His bloody nose had also been cleaned up and he had two stitches in his chin.

  Dean dropped the two of us off at my house and promised to keep us in the loop when they caught Dixon.

  Elliott made a beeline for the refrigerator and grabbed a cold beer. He held one out to me but I waved him off. When he’d finished his beer he headed for the bathroom and ran the water in the shower.

  “I’m just gonna take a shower and hit the sack early,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Can’t say that I blame you. I’m just gonna sit here for a while before I got to bed, too. See you in the morning.”

  Elliott nodded and closed the bathroom door. Ten minutes later the light under his bedroom door went out and before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep in the recliner.

  I awoke the next morning before Elliott and my neck was a bit stiff. I decided to let him sleep in a while longer and walked to the kitchen to start breakfast. The smell of bacon frying was all it took to get Elliott’s bedroom door to open. He peeked his head out and sniffed.

  “Making some for me, too?” he said.

  “Sure,” I said. “Get your robe on and come out here.”

  Elliott took the seat across from me at the kitchen table. His face looked a lot better than it did yesterday. Over his eggs and bacon Elliott said, “Ever wonder if we’re in the right business?”

  I took a sip of coffee and set the cup down. “Not even once,” I said. “Dad did it for more than twenty-five years when I joined him. I’ve been at it for almost forty and you. Well, let’s see, how many years has it been for you now?”

  “Almost nine,” Elliott said. “And it feels like I’ve been doing this all my life.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said.

  “Well?” Elliott said.

  I said nothing, and just took another sip of my coffee.

  The phone rang and I motioned to Elliott to stay where he was and finish his eggs. I got up and picked up the wall phone in the kitchen.

  “Cooper,” I said.

  “Clay,” the voice said. “It’s Dean. Thought you’d want to know that we picked up Grant Dixon and sure enough his lawyers were already at his side.”

  “You saying you think he’ll walk?” I said.

  “Not a chance,” Dean said. “They were able to trace the grenades back to him and two of his minions. And when we showed his lawyers the entries in Peggy Harrington’s diary, the started talking about making a deal. Yeah, I’d say his days of freedom are numbered.”

  “Great news, Dean” I said. “Elliott will be glad to hear it.”

  “I’m sure I’ll see him before the trial,” Dean said. “But just let him know that his testimony will nail the coffin shot on Dixon.”

  “Thanks, Dean,” I said.

  I sat across from Elliott again, grabbed my coffee cup and smiled.

  “Hollister?” Elliott said.

  I nodded. “It’s a slam dunk on the Dixon file. I think we did a pretty good job for a tired old man and a son who’s not sure he wants to be in this business.”

  “I suppose so,” Elliott said, rising from the table and setting his dishes in the sink. He started to walk toward the living room when a faint ringing sound came from his bedroom. Elliott went in and came back out holding his cell phone. He flipped it open on the third ring.

  “Cooper Investigations,” he said. “Uh huh. Yes, I guess I could meet with you. How’s an hour from now work for you? Good, I’ll see you there. And thank you for choosing Cooper Investigations.” He snapped the phone shut and dropped it in his robe pocket. He looked at me and said nothing for a moment.

  “Well, old man,” Elliott said. “You just gonna sit there or are you coming down to the office with me?”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “We’ve got a business to run,” Elliott said. “Come on, old man, get dressed.”

  I smiled, took one last swallow of coffee and set my cup in the sink. I walked up to Elliott and held my hand out. He looked at me strangely for a second before he took it in his hand and pumped it.

  “Let’s go, partner,” I said. “We’ve got a client.”

  43 - Clay Cooper, Panhandler

  I sat back in my wooden swivel chair, wondering who my next client would be and what the case might involve. I spun around in my chair and stared down onto the pedestrian traffic on Hollywood Boulevard three floors below. There were hundreds if not thousands of people walking the streets at any given time and I couldn’t help but wonder where all of those meandering people were going.

  Lost in my daydream, I swiveled back around to my desk when the office door opened and a man, perhaps fifty or so in a tailored suit and Italian shoes came in. He smiled as he approached me.

  “Hugh Carlton,” I said, extending my hand. “You’re about the last person I ever expected to see today.”

  Carlton grabbed my hand and shook it, grasping my forearm with his left hand. “Clayton Cooper, you are a sight for sore eyes. How have you been?”

  “Just great, Hugh,” I said. “And you?” I released his grip and gestured toward another chair with my upturned palm. “Please, won’t you have a seat? My god, what has it been? Six years?”

  “Seven,” Hugh said. “It was at the Uplands Country Club for the Christmas party. You were there with Veronica. How is she these days?”

  My face went somber and I hung my head. “Veronica passed away two years ago.”

  “Oh, Clay,” Hugh said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. What happened?”

  “Breast cancer,” I said. “She went pretty fast after they found it.” I took a deep breath and lifted my head and straightened myself up.

  “And how are you doing?” Hugh said.

  “It gets better every day,” I said. “I have good days and bad days. But overall, the pain is starting to subside.”

  Hugh stood and faced me. “Well, anyway, the reason I stopped in to see you is that I just got into town and decided to look you up. Are you free for lunch?”

  “Sure, I can get away for a while,” I said, knowing there was nothing at all on my docket. “Any place special you’d like to eat?”

  Hugh thought for a moment and offered, “How about Landers Corners? I always liked the fish there.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, they tore that place down three years ago,” I said. “There’s a Starbucks there now.”

  “What about the Knight House?” Hugh said. “If I recall their steaks were pretty damned good.”

  “Nope,” I said. “That’s a parking lot now.”

  “Really?” Hugh said. “When did that happen?”

  “Must have been a year and a half ago,” I said. “They bought old man Knight out for a good enough price so that he could retire in luxury. That was some prime real estate. Still is.”

  “Okay,” Hugh said, “You pick the place, but how about if you decide on the way? I’m starving.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Come on, we’ll take the elevator to the lobby.”

  “My car’s in the parking garage right downstairs,” Hugh said. “I don’t mind driving.”

  “No need,” I told him. “I have a place in mind and it’s just two blocks away. Besides, it’s a nice day for walking and we can talk along the way.”

  The elevator doors opened onto the lobby and we emerged, still reminiscing as we headed for the door to the street.

  I looked at Hugh. “Come on, it’s this way,” I said.

  Hugh walked alongside me, glad to be in my company again after so many years away. We’d walked just half a block when an old man approached us. He was wearing a tattered suit jacket and slacks stained with grease and dirt and something unidentifiable. His once white shirt had more of a gray tint to it now and I could see the tips of his socks sticking out of the soles of the shoes. The man’s face sported quarter inch long gray stubble surrounding brown teeth.

  The man held out one hand and said, “Could either of you gentlemen spare a dollar fo
r a cup of coffee?”

  I started to wave the man off, but Hugh pulled a wad of bills in a money clip from his pocket, peeled off a single dollar and handed it to the man. The man smiled and nodded and slinked away, back to his spot against the building.

  “You know,” I said, “If you do that once, they’ll never leave you alone. I just try to ignore them.”

  “It’s only a buck,” Hugh said. “Besides, what if that was you? Wouldn’t you want someone to help you out?”

  “Me?” I said in disbelief. “Highly unlikely.”

  “Okay, so it’s unlikely these days,” Hugh said. “But think back a few years when you were just getting out in the world. If life had taken a few wrong turns, you might be that guy today. Ever think of that?”

  “And just what kind of wrong turns would put me in that kind of scenario?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Hugh said. “Let’s just say that one day you found yourself penniless with no place to call home. Think you could pull yourself up by the bootstraps and still be able to survive? Second thought, make that survive and thrive.”

  “Not a problem,” I said. “I’ve always been a go-getter and I could start with nothing and in no time I’d be right back to where I am at this moment.”

  “Think so?” Hugh said.

  “You can bet on it,” I said.

  “Then let’s.” Hugh said.

  “Let’s?” I questioned. “Let’s what?”

  “Let’s bet on it,” Hugh said. “You start out on the streets with no connection to your present resources and without a cent in your pocket and let’s just see if you can manage.”

  I stopped walking and turned to Hugh. “You think I can’t?” I said.

  “Put your money where your mouth is,” Hugh said.

  I smiled, anticipating the interesting challenge involved with a bet like this. I knew I was resourceful and cunning. I knew I could overcome a simple obstacle like being homeless and penniless. Besides, this was more like an adventure than a hardship. Why not?