by Bill Bernico
I looked at Elliott. He was licking his lips and squirming in his seat.
“With their guns drawn they ascended the stairs, searching the second floor room by room,” Dean said. “They finished their search in the upstairs bathroom, where they found the body of the woman who’d called the police station. She was lying in the bathtub. She had been stabbed several times and had fallen back into the tub. What Bud and Cliff thought was the sound of running water was actually the blood running out of the woman’s body and down the bathtub drain.”
Elliott winced. “I knew it was going to be something like that,” he said.
Dean continued with his story. “Later that day Dad took another call. He received an anonymous tip that there was a man living across the street from the murdered woman who the caller said was acting strangely. The tipster thought that this man, Lester Cobb, might have been involved in the murder of the woman across the street.”
Bud and Cliff drove to the house and split up. Cliff went to the house while Bud checked the garage and found Cobb hiding in it. Bud yelled for Cobb to come out with his hands in the air, but Cobb charged past Bud and back into the house. When Cliff confronted Cobb in the back hallway, Cobb pulled his hunting knife and stabbed Cliff three times before Bud caught up with him and shot Cobb in the back as he was raising the knife again. Cobb had dropped the knife, but Bud had been a few seconds too late. Cliff died right there in Cobb’s house.”
“But your dad wasn’t there for that one, was he?” Elliott said, looking straight at Dean.
“No,” Dean said. “Dad wasn’t in the house and he was always thankful that he didn’t have to see the woman’s body lying in the tub, with her life’s fluids draining out of her. It haunted him enough just to know that he was the last person to ever hear her voice. And he always wondered how things would have turned out for Cliff if he’d been there instead of Bud.”
“So Bud killed this Cobb character?” Elliott said.
“If only,” Dean said. “No, Bud’s shot was off by less than an inch and Cobb lived to stand trial. He got life without parole, Cliff got a policeman’s funeral and Bud went on to serve for another thirty-nine years before he retired back in ‘86.”
“What do you suppose he’s been doing for the past twenty-six years?” Elliott said, doing some quick mental math. “He’d have been sixty-seven. What do old guys in their sixties do for excitement?”
Dean and I looked at each other and turned to Elliott as though our heads were connected. “I beg your pardon,” I said.
“Old guys?” Dean said. “I’ll give you old guys, kid.”
“Well, I wasn’t talking about you two,” Elliott said. “I meant two other old codgers in their sixties?”
“Just wait,” I said. “One day you’ll be there yourself.”
“And then you’ll be ninety,” Elliott said. “I think by then I’ll be able to take you both on at the same time without any problems.”
Dean and I exchanged looks again and shook our heads. “Kids,” I said. “No respect at all.”
“Now I know what Rodney Dangerfield feels like,” Dean said.
“Felt like,” Elliott corrected.
“Huh?” Dean said.
“Dangerfield’s been dead eight years,” Elliott explained. “He was an old codger, too.”
“I’d better get out of here before these brittle old bones of mine shatter,” Dean said.
“How’d you like to have a cup of coffee with another old codger?” I said. “We can drive over to the rest home and drink it. That should make us feel young again.”
Dean threw his head to one side. “Come on, Clay,” he said. “Wheelchair races in the hallway. Last one to the elevator is a corpse.”
“Funny,” Elliott said. “You two just go on and have your coffee. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Think you can?” Dean said.
Before the door closed behind us, Elliott couldn’t resist one more shot. “Don’t forget a fresh diaper before you come back, Dad.”
I turned back toward the office but Dean pulled me away. “Forget it, Clay. He doesn’t have a clue.”
Elliott settled back behind his desk and picked up the paper again. He flipped a few pages and found the place where he’d left off. Twenty minutes later he’d finished the back page of editorials and had thrown the paper in the trashcan when the office door opened again.
“You guys back already?” Elliott said, not even bothering to look up.
“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice said.
Elliott looked up now and saw an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties. She wore a long cloth coat with a belt cinched at her waist. She also wore sensible shoes and looked tired.
Elliott stood and stepped around his desk to greet her. “I’m sorry,” Elliott said. “I thought you were someone else. Please, won’t you sit down?”
The woman sat in the chair opposite Elliott. He extended his hand and she took it, shaking it weakly.
“I’m Elliott Cooper,” Elliott said.
“Grace Evans,” she said.
Elliott paused their handshake briefly and said, “Evans?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that name today,” he said before taking a seat behind his desk again. “Those other people I mistook you for when you came in, well, the three of us were just discussing another guy named Evans. What are the odds?”
“Was his name Carroll Evans, this other guy you were discussing?” Grace said.
“Why, yes it was,” Elliott said. “How did you know that?”
“Because he just died recently,” Grace said.
“I know,” Elliott said. “One of the other guys that was just here is a cop. He’s the one that was telling me and my dad about Mr. Evans.”
“That would be Lieutenant Hollister, I take it,” Grace said.
“What are you, clairvoyant or something?” Elliott said.
“Not at all, young man,” Grace said. “It’s just that I’d been to see him earlier today and I’m afraid he didn’t take me seriously.”
“About what?” Elliott said.
“About my father’s death,” Grace said. “Carroll Evans was my father.”
Elliott’s face took on a somber look and he said, “I’m sorry to hear about your father, but he was ninety, after all. If I remember correctly, the average life expectancy of males these days is somewhere around seventy-six. Sounds like your dad got quite a few extra years out of life.”
“And I wouldn’t have bothered Mr. Hollister or you if dad had simply died of natural causes,” Grace said.
Elliott looked puzzled. “What makes you think that he didn’t?” he said.
“Dad was in relatively good health and has been for some time now,” Grace explained. “He still lived in his own apartment. He didn’t have to be in one of those awful nursing homes. He could walk without help from anyone or anything. No, Mr. Cooper, I’m afraid there’s more to dad’s death than anyone is bothering to check on.”
“I can’t speak for Lieutenant Hollister,” Elliott said, “but I don’t think police can go on hunches or intuition these days. They want proof or evidence or something that would make them dig deeper. Do you know anything for sure about how your father died, or are you just unwilling to accept that it might have simply been his time?”
Grace sat up straighter in her chair now. “Do you know that they didn’t even perform an autopsy on dad?”
“No,” Elliott said. “I wasn’t aware of that. How did you know that they hadn’t?”
“I asked Mr. Hollister,” she said. “He said that the medical examiner doesn’t usually do one on people of that age, especially when they go in their sleep.”
“Did he go in his sleep?” Elliott said.
“It might look like it to someone in a hurry or to someone who couldn’t be bothered,” Grace said. “I’d feel a lot better about all this if I could just know for sure.”
&n
bsp; “Couldn’t you just ask for an autopsy independently?” Elliott said.
“I should have,” Grace said. “The coroner seemed so busy, what with eight other bodies that needed his attention.”
“You know, Mrs. Evans…” Elliott said.
“Miss,” Grace said.
“How’s that?” Elliott said.
“It’s Miss Evans,” Grace said. “I never married.”
“You know, Miss Evans,” Elliott said, “You always have the option of taking your father to an independent doctor for the autopsy. Of course, you’d have to pay for that one.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “It would be worth if just for my peace of mind.”
Elliott looked puzzled. “So tell me, why did you come to me with all this?”
Grace shifted in her seat. “Well,” she began, “When Mr. Hollister and Mr. Reynolds, that’s the medical examiner I told you about, when they turned me down, I decided to start my own investigation and find a private detective to help me.”
“Miss Evans,” Elliott said. “Before we get into a full-blown investigation, why don’t you let me ask around at the police department and coroner’s office first? Maybe I can cut through a little red tape and save you some aggravation.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” Grace said. “Of course, I’ll be glad to pay you for your time.”
Elliott waved her off. “First let me see if there’s anything to this and I’ll get back to you.”
Grace rose from her chair and so did Elliott. He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a business card. “Here’s my number,” he said. “If you don’t hear from me by this time tomorrow, please feel free to give me a call.” He wrote down her number on the back of one of his other cards and slipped that one into his pants pocket. He walked Grace Evans to the door and thanked her for stopping in. He heard her footsteps echo down the hall toward the elevator.
Elliott turned back toward his desk when he heard the door opening again. He turned, half expecting to see Grace Evans. It was Gloria.
“Who was that?” Gloria said. “That old woman who just left here.”
“A possible client,” Elliott said.
“A client?” Gloria said. “What’s an old woman like that want with us?”
Elliott filled her in on their conversation. “I thought I’d take a ride downtown and see Andy Reynolds. You feel like coming along?”
“Sure,” Gloria said. “Why not? By the way,” she said, setting a box down on Elliott’s desk, “You owe me thirty bucks for the fan.”
“I’ll square it with you when we get back,” Elliott said.
Gloria and Elliott climbed into Elliott’s car and pulled out of the parking lot behind the building.
Dean and I were just coming out of the coffee shop when Elliott and Gloria made the turn onto Hollywood Boulevard. Dean walked west, toward his car and I walked east, back toward the office. I wondered where those two were headed, but didn’t have the energy to whistle and flag them down. Maybe I could get a little peace back at the office, now that it looked like I’d have it to myself.
On their way to the twelfth precinct, Elliott gave Gloria the condensed version of the conversation he and Clay had had with Lieutenant Hollister. Elliott parked in the lot behind the twelfth precinct. He and Gloria walked to the end of the north hallway and found the medical examiner, Andy Reynolds, leaning over a table with his scalpel, speaking into a microphone that hung overhead. Dean waited until Andy had stopped speaking before he approached him.
Andy looked up from the body on the table. “Elliott, Gloria,” he said. “What brings you two down here? Things a little slow at the office today?”
“Actually,” Elliott said, “Speaking of the office, I just came from there. I was talking to a woman about…”
“Did Grace Evans bother you, too?” Andy said.
Elliott nodded. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a bother, though,” Elliott said. “She had some concerns about her father’s death and just to satisfy her, I told her I’d check with you and see if I couldn’t put her mind to rest.”
“The guy was ninety,” Andy said. “And according to her, it looked like the old guy went peacefully in his sleep. What’s there to check?”
“Look,” Elliott said, “I know the county’s on a bit of a budget and autopsies don’t come cheap, but do you think you could just give the body a thorough once over without doing any actual cutting? Then I could at least tell her you gave her father a second look.”
Andy glanced at the wall clock and then at Elliott. “All right,” he said. “A quick look, but I don’t have time to go inside.”
“A quick look,” Elliott said. “That’s all we’re asking.”
“Thanks, Andy,” Elliott said. “I have to stop in and see Dean. Can I check back with you around noon?”
“Sure,” Andy said. He looked at Gloria and added, “What are you so talkative about this morning?”
Elliott and Gloria walked back the way they’d come and turned down the west hallway to Dean’s office. Elliott knocked on Dean’s office door and then peeked in. He turned back to Gloria. “Not back yet. Do you want to come with me to the lobby? The candy machine there has my favorite candy bar.”
“Why not?” Gloria said.
Elliott slipped his dollar into the slot on the machine and pressed the button that corresponded with his favorite candy bar. He and Gloria sat on the padded bench next to the machine and waited. Elliott finished his candy, glanced at his watch and slapped the tops of his thighs. “Well, shall we see if Dean’s back yet?”
“I could have waited in Dean’s office, for all the talking you do,” Gloria said.
“What is it with women?” Elliott said. “You always want to talk, even when you have nothing to say. Talk is overrated, you know?”
“Men,” Gloria mumbled under her breath. She followed Elliott back to Dean’s office. Elliott tried the door again, opening it a crack. He could see Dean behind his desk now and opened the door even further. “Got a minute?” Elliott said.
Dean was about to make up an excuse not to see Elliott when Gloria poked her head in and smiled at him.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Hollister,” Gloria said, flashing her smile.
“I’ll probably regret this,” Dean said, “but come on in.”
Elliott and Gloria left Dean’s door open a crack, sat opposite him and wasted no time getting to the point of their visit.
“You never mentioned Grace Evans during your story earlier today,” Elliott said.
“How would you know about Grace Evans?” Dean said. “No wait, let me guess. She came to see you about looking into her father’s death.”
“As a matter of fact she did,” Elliott said. “She thinks there’s more to it than meets the eye and I told her I’d snoop around if only to satisfy her suspicions.”
“And you’re here because you think Andy Reynolds and I aren’t doing our jobs?” Dean said.
Gloria used her soft voice. “Lieutenant, it’s not like that at all,” she said. “Why, everyone knows you’re the best cop money can buy.”
“Money?” Dean said.
“Taxpayer money, of course,” Gloria said.
Dean ignored Elliott and turned his attention to Gloria. “And just what is it you want to know?”
“We just want to know…” Elliott said, before Gloria interrupted.
“We just want to know,” Gloria said, “if Carroll Evans died of natural causes or if there was any foul play suspected. That’s all.”
“Did I mention that he was ninety?” Dean said. “Ninety, for crying out loud. He aged like fine wine and then expired. Case closed.”
“Not so fast,” Andy Reynolds said, slipping into Dean’s office through the crack.
“What are you talking about, Andy?” Dean said.
Andy turned to Elliott. “You called that one,” he said. “Anyone could have missed it.”
“Missed what?” Dean said. “What’s going on here?”<
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Andy turned to Dean. “Looks like Bud Evans didn’t go in his sleep and did not slip away peacefully, like we thought.”
“What did you find, Andy?” Elliott said.
Andy held up a sketch of a human head. It had a pencil mark circling a spot at the base of the skull. Andy pointed to that area. “Bud Evans was murdered,” he said. “Someone stuck an ice pick in the base of his skull. His last seconds could not have been painless, but at least it was quick.”
Dean was on his feet now. “What? Bud was murdered?” he said.
“Well,” Andy said. “I’ve never seen a suicide clever enough to jam an ice pick into his own skull. No, he had help. No doubt about it.”
“How’d we miss that?” Dean said.
“Because we weren’t looking for it,” Andy explained.
“Oh boy,” Gloria said. “A juicy case.”
“Oh boy?” Elliott said. “Who says, ‘oh boy’ anymore?”
“Would you prefer, ‘gee willikers’ instead,” Gloria said.
Elliott waved her off. “Stick with ‘oh boy’ if you don’t mind.”
“Either way,” Dean said, “You don’t have a case. I do.”
“It’s a case you wouldn’t have had without us,” Gloria said. “Come on, Lieutenant, you owe us one.”
Dean thought about it for a moment and then said, “The main murder case is ours,” he said. “If you two want to do some of the leg work for the background, knock yourselves out. Then you can at least tell the old woman that you looked into her case. But you let me know everything you find out. Is that clear?”
“Clear as mud,” Elliott said. “We’ve gotta get going, Dean. We’ll be checking back with you.”
Elliott and Gloria left Dean’s office and nearly ran back to Elliott’s car. Once inside, Gloria turned to Elliott and said, “So where are we going to start?”