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

by Bill Bernico

  Dad sat on the leather couch and looked at me. “So,” he began, “do you know what your first move is going to be?”

  “I thought I could give Dean a two for one bargain,” I said. “That is, find a way to put Carver away for good while at the same time, making it look like it all happened as a result of someone else’s efforts.”

  “Someone else?” Dad said. “Who’d you have in mind for the patsy?”

  “Leo Tucker,” I said. “Carver’s lawyer.”

  Dad laughed and slapped his thigh. “Tucker,” he said. “That’s perfect. He doesn’t deserve to be walking free any more than Carver does. Hell, he’s only half a step further up the evolution ladder than Carver. Any idea how you plan to pull that off?”

  “I’m still working out the details,” I said. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

  Back at her apartment, Gloria stripped, showered, did her hair and makeup and dressed in her most provocative outfit, complete with stiletto pumps and a long, flowing blonde wig. She looked herself over in the full-length hall mirror, made minor adjustments to her form fitting dress and switched purses before walking out to her car. Not only was she going to keep an eye on Mr. Rutherford, but if need be, she’d play an active role in making sure Violet Rutherford got her money’s worth.

  Gloria pulled her car into an empty space near the back of the parking lot outside the Stellar Lanes bowling alley. The car clock read seven forty-eight. She took one last look at her image in her rear view mirror before getting out of the car and walking into the bowling establishment. Once inside, Gloria felt like she’d overdressed for the part. She was the only woman in the place not wearing slacks and a blouse. There was no doubt now that she would not go unnoticed.

  She took a seat at the bar and ordered a screwdriver. From where she was sitting, she had a perfect view of all the lanes and all of the bowlers. She swiveled toward the alleys, crossing her legs at the knee. She had great looking legs that were sure to turn heads and she knew how to make the best use of them.

  Gloria reached into her purse and took a quick look at the five by seven snapshot of Lloyd Rutherford and then tucked it away again. She turned her attentions to the men on the alleys. By process of elimination, she’d narrowed down her search to two men who looked similar. She narrowed that down even further when one of the men walked past the bowlers and took a seat next to another man, holding his hand and looking into his eyes with something akin to lust.

  That left just one possibility and once the last man had thrown his ball down the alley and turned around, Gloria had no doubt that this was Lloyd Rutherford. So far, all he was doing was bowling with his pals, like he’d told his wife he was doing. She didn’t see any women milling around, waiting in the wings, so to speak. She nursed her screwdriver at the bar for another fifteen minutes before she swiveled back toward the bar and set the glass down. She told the bartender to bring her another. A minute later the bartender set another screwdriver down in front of Gloria. She reached into her purse to pay for it, but a hand appeared from somewhere off to one side and threw a five dollar bill on the bar.

  “Take it out of there,” the man said.

  Gloria turned to find Lloyd Rutherford standing next to her, eyeing her like a fox eyes a chicken. He smiled and turned on the old charm. “What’s a girl like you doing drinking alone?” Rutherford said.

  “Waiting for Mr. Right to come along,” Gloria said, in a sulky voice. She picked up her drink and sipped. “Thank you,” she said.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, Miss…” he said.

  “Campbell,” Gloria said. “Gloria Campbell.” She held one hand out to him.

  He took it and bent over to gently kiss her knuckles. “Lloyd Rutherford,” he said, trying to sound debonair.

  Gloria looked over at the alley that Rutherford had been bowling on. “Aren’t you going to miss your turn?” she said, gesturing with her glass toward the lanes.

  “It’s not tournament play,” Rutherford explained. “Won’t be for another week yet. We’re all just practicing tonight and frankly, I don’t need the practice, at least not on the lanes.” He winked at Gloria.

  Gloria turned away and lowered her eyes. Rutherford place his index finger under Gloria’s chin and lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. He smiled and Gloria smiled back.

  “What do you say we get out of here?” Rutherford said. “This place is too crowded, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Gloria said, sliding off her stool and slipping her arm around Rutherford’s. He guided her toward the front door and out into the parking lot, their arms still locked. Rutherford began walking up the row of cars, his gaze fixed on Gloria’s face.

  “Where are we going?” Gloria said.

  “I want to show you my new car,” Rutherford said. “It’s parked right up here. It has all the latest options. The one I like best is the reclining seats.”

  The couple continued walking when Gloria noticed one car in the back row. Its headlights came on and the car began to move, slowly at first, then accelerating rapidly. It was coming straight at them. When it got closer, Gloria recognized the distinctive hood ornament. It was the round icon found on a Mercedes, and this one was silver.

  At the last second, Gloria ripped her arm out of Rutherford’s grasp and jumped to one side, landing between two parked cars. Rutherford, who was still clueless and still concentrating on what he’d planned for Gloria once they were in his car, never saw the Mercedes coming. It struck him dead center and sent him sailing through the air twenty feet or more. The Mercedes stopped and the driver looked out the windshield at the man lying on the parking lot. The car accelerated again and ran over the man as he lay there moaning.

  Gloria watched in horror as the car stopped again, backed up and ran the man over a third time. Now she could see into the driver’s side window. There behind the wheel sat Violet Rutherford, laughing manically. The last pass over Lloyd Rutherford’s body had sent the Mercedes off to one side. It was wedged up against a blue Cadillac and it was still in gear, its tires spinning and smoking.

  Gloria rushed over to the Mercedes, reached in and turned off the ignition. Violet Rutherford had collapsed against the steering wheel. Gloria reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, calling for police and an ambulance. It took police six minutes to arrive.

  Two patrolmen stepped out of their cruiser and approached Gloria. “What happened here?” one of them said to Gloria.

  “The woman behind the wheel came barreling down this way,” Gloria said, pointing to the row of cars behind her. “She aimed the car right at us and I was able to jump out of the way. “Mr. Rutherford, there, wasn’t so quick. She hit him about twenty feet farther back and he landed where he is now. She drove over him again and then backed up, running over him a third time.”

  “Do you know either of them?” the officer asked Gloria.

  “The woman behind the wheel is Violet Rutherford,” Gloria said. “And the guy on the ground is, I mean was her husband.”

  The cop’s eyes got wide. He looked at the man on the ground and then at the woman behind the wheel of the Mercedes. “How do you know them?” the cop said.

  Gloria pointed to Violet just as the second cop was pulling her from behind the wheel. “Mrs. Rutherford hired me to tail her husband,” she said. “She suspected that he was cheating on her.” Gloria reached into her purse and produced her shield and I.D. card and held them up for the cop to see. “I’m a private investigator working under cover. Mr. Rutherford was walking me out into the parking lot. Said he wanted to show me his new car. And well, you know the rest.” She handed the cop one of her cards. “This is where I can be reached.”

  Just then the ambulance arrived, followed by the medical examiner’s wagon. Andy Reynolds, the county M.E., got to the body at about the same time as the ambulance attendants. Andy crouched down and placed two fingers against Lloyd Rutherford’s neck. Then he pulled a stethoscope out of his
black bag, stuck the earpieces into his ears and listened to Rutherford’s chest. Andy pulled the stethoscope out of his ears, stood and instructed the ambulance attendants to take the body back to the morgue. He looked at the cop and shook his head. “He’s had it,” Andy said.

  The second cop turned Violet Rutherford around and snapped his handcuffs on her wrists, leading her back to the squad car. “Better send a wrecker out to pick up the Mercedes,” he told the first cop.

  After Gloria had finished giving her statement to the two cops, she drove back home and collapsed on her sofa, kicking off her shoes. She pulled the blonde wig from her head and ran her fingers through her own hair. “What a night,” she said aloud. Then she remembered her arrangement with Violet Rutherford. “Shit,” she yelled, remembering that Violet was supposed to pay her when she came out to her car. There was no chance of collecting anything from her now.

  Gloria looked at the wall clock above her television set. It was not even nine o’clock yet and already she’d had one hell of a day. She picked up the phone on the end table next to her couch and dialed Elliott’s home number.

  “Cooper,” Elliott said.

  “Elliott,” Gloria said. “You’re not going to believe the night I’ve had.” And she proceeded to give him the details, ending with not being paid for her efforts.

  “Not only did you not make any money,” Elliott said. “You’re probably in the hole after figuring in your own expenses. I hope this teaches you to at least collect half of your fee up front.”

  Gloria sighed loud enough to be heard on Elliott’s end. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, and hung up. She hooked her toe into one of the pumps and flung it across the room.

  By ten to nine the next morning, Gloria and I were back in the office waiting for Dad. He showed up three minutes later, eager to get started on a case after so many months of recuperating at home. Dad spoke first.

  “So what did you come up with?” Dad said.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m drawing a blank. I thought we could put our heads together and come up with something that’ll work.”

  The room fell silent.

  “Anyone,” I said. “Just jump in with any idea and let’s see if it’s workable. Don’t be shy. No idea is too stupid.”

  Again the silence.

  Gloria’s face contorted and she seemed to be staring at a spot on the floor. She looked up and straightened out her face. “How about this?” she said. “We kill Carver and pin it on Tucker.”

  “I take that back,” I said. “I guess some ideas are too stupid after all.”

  Dad held up one finger. “But,” he said, pausing briefly, “let’s take that premise and tweak it a bit. Suppose we get one of them to kill the other. The dead one won’t bother anyone ever again and the other one will go to prison or be executed. Both idiots taken care of. Two for one, so to speak.”

  I pointed at dad. “Sounds good in theory,” I said, “but how do we make it a reality? Come on now, we’re making progress here. Let’s work out all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘supposes’ and put ourselves in the shoes of the people who will no doubt be investigating it.”

  “And remember,” Dad said. “We can’t expect any help or cooperation from L.A.’s finest, not even from Dean.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t even want to know anything until he reads about it in the paper the next morning,” I reminded Dad and Gloria. “So let’s start with who kills whom. Obviously it would be better if Carver killed his attorney. That would be more in character with Carver’s personality. Besides, if Tucker killed Carver, he’d find a way to make it self-defense or use some other legal maneuver to get away with it. No, we have to make sure they’re both disposed of permanently.”

  Gloria jumped in. “What would make Carver kill Tucker?” she said.

  “Suppose it got back to Carver that Tucker was planning to give him up in exchange for some other favor from the police?” I said.

  “What kind of favor?” Dad said.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Suppose Tucker got caught laundering money or got caught with a shit load of drugs in his possession. If the evidence was strong enough and if Tucker felt trapped, he might flip Carver to get himself out of the jam.”

  “Don’t you think Tucker is smart enough to avoid any traps like that?” Gloria said. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just planted the idea in Carver’s head that Tucker was going to give him up? Carver’s just hot-headed enough to act without thinking.”

  “We can’t take that chance,” I said. “If Carver comes after Tucker and doesn’t kill him right away, Tucker just might be able to talk his way out of a fix like that and then Carver and Tucker both would be on the offensive, making it harder for any of us to get to either of them. No, the fix has to be real, not imagined.”

  “Well,” Dad said. “None of us has the kind of money it would take to set up a laundering scheme. And drugs wouldn’t be that easy to get, either. At least not in the quantities we’d need to get a conviction.”

  “Back up a step there, Clay,” Gloria said.

  “To where?” Dad said.

  “Back to where you said something about us not having enough money to make a laundering rap stick,” Gloria said. “What would be better than real money to plant on him?”

  “Counterfeit,” I said, snapping my fingers. “But where do we get that? That’s almost as hard to come by as the real stuff.”

  “This is where complete trust comes in,” Gloria said. “And I mean complete trust among the three of us. We’d have to stand together on this one or it won’t work.”

  Dad’s eyes lit up. “Are you suggesting we make the counterfeit bills ourselves?” he said.

  “Think about it,” Gloria said. “You stick a couple of real tens and twenties and maybe a couple of fives in a copy machine and crank out a sheet of bills. You turn the sheets and the bills over and crank out the second side. Once you have that master sheet, you can set the copier on fifty or a hundred and before you know it you’d have…”

  “Twenty-five to life in San Quentin,” Dad said, finishing her sentence.

  “That’s what I mean about complete trust among the three of us,” Gloria repeated. “We crank out a couple thousand dollars of the phony stuff, cut it up and wrap it into bundles and somehow manage to plant it on Tucker or at least put it where he’ll find it. He’s just greedy enough to try to pass it or sell it. As long as the three of us deny to our death any knowledge of its existence, we can get away with it.”

  I pointed at Gloria. “Actually,” I said. “That’s not a bad idea. But once again we have to work out all the pitfalls that get other people thrown in jail. First off, we’d all have to wear surgical gloves. Not a single ridge of any of our fingerprints can be found on any of the bills.”

  “And it’ll be printed on regular copy paper,” Dad said. “Keep in mind, we’re not trying to make bills that’ll be good enough to pass close inspection, just good enough to get Tucker thrown in the slammer. Once he’s in there, facing decades behind bars, he’ll roll over on Carver.”

  I almost laughed. “Here’s another layer on the manure pile we’re planning for these two,” I said. “Suppose once we get Tucker arrested with the counterfeit, we leak it to him that Carver set him up and turned him in?”

  “And,” Gloria added, “We tell Carver that Tucker told the feds that Carver made the money himself. Those two stories working together should be enough to get those two at each other’s throats. But how do we get Carver to kill Tucker if Tucker’s in the lockup?”

  “See,” I said. “This is why we brainstorm, to work out all the glitches. So how can we tweak this scenario?”

  As we sat there trying to come up with a foolproof plan, my desk phone rang. I flinched in my chair and grabbed the receiver. “Cooper Investigations,” I said. “Elliott Cooper speaking.”

  “Elliott, it’s Dean.”

  “Dean.” I said. “I didn’t expect to hear from you for a while. Is something wr
ong?”

  “That’s why I’m calling,” Dean said. “Can we meet right away?”

  “Sure,” I said. “You want to come here to my office or should I come there?”

  “I’m in your neighborhood,” Dean said. “I can be there in a few minutes. Does that work for you?”

  “Perfectly,” I said. “See you then.” I hung up the phone and turned to my two partners.

  “Something’s up,” Dad said. “What did Dean want?”

  “He wouldn’t say on the phone,” I said. “But he’s coming here in a little while. I guess we’ll find out then.”

  “Do you think Clay and I should be here when he gets here?” Gloria said. “After all, you’re the only one who’s supposed to know about this.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  Dad and Gloria got up from their chairs and turned for the door when it opened and Dean walked in. He immediately looked at Dad and said, “Clay, it’s good to see you. You’re looking well. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” Dad said. “And you?”

  “Never better,” Dean said and then glanced at Gloria.

  “We were just on our way out,” Gloria said. “Clay offered to buy me coffee.”

  “No, don’t,” Dean said. “You both might as well stay for this, too.”

  I pulled up a couple of chairs and lined them up in front of my leather couch. Dad and Gloria sat on the couch while Dean and I took the chairs.

  “So, what was important enough to bring you here this morning?” I said.

  “You know that thing we talked about?” Dean said.

  I immediately glanced at Gloria and Dad and then back at Dean.

  Dean waved me off. “It doesn’t matter who knows now,” Dean said. “Besides, I already told Clay about this even before I told you.”

  “And Gloria knows,” I said.

  Dean gave me a look. “Hey,” I said. “I didn’t tell her. She figured it out by herself yesterday when we all ran into Carver at the Toyota dealership on Western.”

  Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anymore. Carver’s dead.”

  “What?” the three of us said, almost in unison. “What happened?” I said.