by Bill Bernico
Elliott holds his hand out, exposing the .45 slugs. “Do you want these?” he tells Dean.
Dean shakes his head. “I never saw them and neither did you two,” Dean says. “Get rid of them.” He walks back to his cruiser and pulls away from the curb.
Elliott drops the slugs back into his jacket pocket and turns to Gloria. “Just wait until Dad hears about this,” he tells Gloria. “While he was busy feeding the pigeons, we took down a serial killer. How cool is that?”
“You think that’s wise?” Gloria says.
“What do you mean?” Elliott says.
“Wouldn’t that be kind of like rubbing it in that his life has become too dull?” Gloria says. “What if that makes him rethink retirement? What if it makes him want to get back into the excitement? And what if that excitement causes another heart attack? Do you want to risk that?”
Elliott lowers his head and shakes it. “You’re right,” he says. “He doesn’t need to know.”
“Should we go and pay him a visit?” Gloria says, looking at her wristwatch. “He’s probably in the park right now.”
“I’d like that,” Elliott says. “But first I have to make one stop on the way there.”
“Where’s that?” Gloria says.
“The grocery store,” Elliott tells her. “I’d like to pick up a couple more bags of peanuts for you and me. Maybe there’s something to this lifestyle after all. Let’s go find out.”
74 - The Family That Preys Together
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning by the time George and Ellen Armitage made it halfway home from the surprise birthday party in his honor. George’s sister, Shelly had made the arrangements weeks in advance and it was Ellen who made sure that she and George ended up at the Elk’s Lodge just outside of Burbank. The party had finally died down shortly after midnight and most of the attendees had already called it a night and gone home. George and Ellen were the next to last to leave, just before Shelly and her husband, Steve. George still faced the long drive home and he was hardly in any condition to drive, but Ellen had had even more to drink than he did, so it fell on George to drive them home.
On a deserted stretch of road that passed through the mountains, George rounded a corner and saw a car along the side of the road, its hood raised and three people standing alongside it, waving their arms. George slowed his car to a crawl and noticed that the three people consisted of a middle-aged man and woman and a teenage boy. They all had the look of desperation on their faces as George drove past them. He wondered if anyone would stop for Ellen and him if the roles had been reversed. George decided not to leave this family stranded in the mountains in the wee hours of Sunday morning. He eased his car to the side of the road and got out, walking back toward the stranded trio. The three people stopped waving their arms as George approached and the look of desperation in their faces quickly turned to that of relief.
The stranded man smiled and extended his hand to George. “Oh, thank you so much for stopping,” the man said. “We were sure we’d be spending the night in our car.”
George shook the man’s hand and said, “I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.” He tried to release his hand from the stranger’s but the man held fast to George’s hand. The man’s wife stepped up along George’s right side and the teenage boy took his place at George’s left. George tried again to release his grip but the man would not let George’s hand go.
George turned his head to look at the woman. As he did so, he felt a sharp pain in his side. He turned toward the teenage boy, who was now smiling a menacing smile. George looked down to see a hunting knife buried to the hilt in his ribs. George got dizzy and his ears began to ring. He felt light-headed and then another sharp pain overcame him as the boy twisted the knife in George’s ribs. George’s mouth gaped wider than he ever thought it possible as the man finally released his grip on George’s hand, allowing George to twist slightly and slide down to the shoulder of the road.
Ellen eventually got impatient and got out of the passenger side of their car to see what was keeping her husband. She turned and walked back toward the stranded car and stopped abruptly when she saw George lying on the side of the road. A large red stain soon filled the side of George’s shirt and Ellen screamed.
The stranded man turned to the woman and said. “You’re up, dear.”
The boy handed the hunting knife to the woman and she wasted no time running toward Ellen.
Ellen screamed even louder and ran back toward their car. She slid back into it and locked both doors, sitting in the middle of the front seats.
The stranded woman slid to a halt just outside Ellen’s window and tried the door handle. It was locked. She didn’t bother asking Ellen to open the door. She knew it would do no good. Instead she banged on the passenger side window and showed Ellen the knife.
Ellen retreated to the driver’s side and reached for the keys, hoping to start the car and drive to safety. The keys were not in the ignition. She screamed again until her throat ached. The stranded woman ran around to the other side of the car and continued banging on the window. Ellen hopped over the console and opened the glove compartment, hoping to find something, anything to defend herself with. It was empty except for one item and Ellen could not very well defend herself with a box of tissue.
The stranded woman turned the hunting knife around and hit the center of the driver’s window, shattering it. She reached inside and unlocked the driver’s door and then proceeded to crawl into the car.
Ellen quickly unlocked the passenger side door and slid out, falling to the shoulder. She pulled herself up again and started running down the mountain road. She ran full out for two minutes looking back just once to see if the stranded woman was gaining on her. She didn’t see anyone and just continued to run for her life.
A minute later Ellen had managed to put enough distance between herself and the stranded woman to allow herself to stop to catch her breath. A moment later Ellen saw a pair of headlights coming around the curve and down toward the section of road where she now found herself. Ellen exploded in tears and turned to wave the car down.
“Please,” Ellen screamed. “Help me, please. She’s trying to kill me. Help!” Ellen waved her arms in a crisscross pattern across her face. The car slowed to a stop and Ellen ran up to the driver’s window. “Oh, thank you, thank you. Please get me out of here. This crazy woman was chasing me.”
The driver turned on the dome light and gestured toward the woman in the front passenger seat. “You mean this woman?” he said, laughing maniacally. He reached out his window and grabbed Ellen by her wrist as the stranded woman slipped out of her side of the car and ran around to where Ellen stood helpless.
The crazy-looking woman held the hunting knife up to Ellen’s face and touched the sharp blade to Ellen’s cheek. “We’re going to have some fun, aren’t we, Clyde?”
The driver exchanged glances with the crazy woman and then looked Ellen in the eyes. “Yes we are, dear,” he said.
The rear door opened and a teenage boy emerged. He grabbed Ellen’s free wrist and pulled her away from Clyde’s grip and into the back seat. “Come on, ma,” the boy said. “Get in.”
Ma slid in next to Ellen, who was now sandwiched between ma and her son. Clyde stepped on the accelerator and continued down the mountain pass. Ma kept the knife in plain sight as a way to keep Ellen in line. The boy reached onto the floor and produced a partial roll of duct tape, ripping off a nine-inch strip and positioning it over Ellen’s mouth. Ma laid the knife down on the floor in front of her and grabbed Ellen’s hands, holding them out so her son could wind the tape around them several times.
Ellen’s heart was pounding out of her chest as her imagination ran wild with the thoughts of what they might to do her. The car continued rolling along at the posted speed. Ellen glanced out the window, seeing nothing but a black void. They drove along for five or six more minutes and then the driver turned right, down an unpaved road through the woods. Sever
al hundred yards into the wooded area, the car eased to a stop and Ma got out, retrieving the hunting knife from the floor and pulling Ellen out of the car and into the woods.
Ellen’s braced her feet, trying hard to resist. By now the son had slid out of the car and had taken Ellen’s taped hands and was pulling her toward a small clump of bushes. He ripped the tape from her mouth and she flexed her jaws and ran her tongue over her sticky lips. Clyde shut the engine off and followed along behind mom and son.
“This is far enough, Sarah,” Clyde said.
Sarah stopped and motioned to her son. He stopped and held tight to Ellen’s wrists. Sarah turned to her son and said, “Let me have her, Jake. I’ll take it from here.”
Jake released his grip on Ellen’s wrists. Ellen immediately turned and tried to run. Sarah stretched out one foot, tripping Ellen. Ellen went down hard on the forest floor, getting a mouth full of dead leaves for her efforts. She spit them out and rolled over onto her back. Sarah dropped to her knees, straddling Ellen’s chest. Sarah brought the hunting knife around to the front and stuck the tip under the tape on Ellen’s wrists. With a single pull she cut Ellen’s bonds and then looked the frightened woman squarely in the eyes.
“This is your luck day,” Sarah said. “We’re going to let you go and if you tell anyone about any of us, I’ll hunt you down and finish the job, understand?”
Ellen nodded furiously. “I promise,” she said. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Sarah stood, pulling Ellen to a standing position again. “I know you won’t,” Sarah said and plunged the knife deep into Ellen’s heart. Ellen was dead before her body hit the ground again.
“You’re such a tease, Sarah,” Clyde said, grinning a stupid grin and wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Why can’t you just do it like Jake does, quick and quiet?”
Jake beamed with the compliment, proud of how fast he had dispatched George back on the road.
Clyde held his hand out and Sarah laid the hunting knife in it. “Jake,” he said looking at his son, “get the shovel out of the trunk. We’ve got work to do.”
“Oh, pa,” Jake said. “I already did my part with the guy on the road and Ma took care of her.” He gestured toward Ellen’s body. “What are you going to do?”
Clyde backhanded Jake across the mouth. “Don’t you ever sass me, boy,” Clyde said. “You just do as you’re told. I already got rid of that couple’s car. No one’s gonna find it in that ravine.”
Jake wiped a couple drops of blood from the corner of his mouth but didn’t say another word to his pa. Instead he opened the trunk, pulled out the shovel and set it aside. He grabbed George’s body and pulled it out of the trunk, letting it thud on the ground. Jake grabbed George’s wrists and pulled the body next to where Ellen lay. He walked back to the rear of the car and scooped up the shovel. A foot or so away from Ellen’s body, Jake began to dig. He kept digging for twenty minute before he was satisfied that he had a deep enough hole for the two bodies. He threw the shovel down and walked over to where his ma and pa stood watching.
“You at least gonna help me throw them into the hole?” Jake said.
Clyde laid his hand on top of the boy’s head and tussled his hair. “Sure, son,” he said and walked with Jake to the fresh grave. Jake grabbed George’s wrists while Clyde grabbed George’s ankles. “On three,” Clyde said. On his signal, he and Jake swung the body in a single, shallow arc and released their grips on George. The body plopped down into the hole, one of George’s arms falling over his face. They repeated the procedure with Ellen. Her body fell on top of George’s and then rolled to one side. The two of them looked cozy, lying there next to each other.
Jake smiled and grabbed the shovel again, filling in the hole one shovel full at a time. Once the dirt on top of the dead couple was level, Clyde instructed Jake to step on the dirt to compact it even more. Clyde did the same. Once they’d finished, Jake continued to throw more dirt on top of the indentation they’d made. One more compacting action and Jake shoveled four more scoops over the grave. He and Clyde stepped it flat again.
While Jake busied himself disbursing the leftover dirt in other places, Clyde kicked lots of dead brown leaves over the fresh dirt. He finished by kicking leaves over the area where Jake had just disposed of the extra dirt. Pa and Ma each grabbed a fallen branch and began sweeping the area, trying to make it look as natural as possible. Jake returned the shovel to the trunk, closed it and then examined his hands.
He turned to Pa. “Blisters,” he said, showing Pa his hands. “I got blisters now.”
Pa looked at Jake’s blisters and said, “You can’t expect to do a decent day’s work without a few blisters, now can you?”
Jake knew better than to argue the point with his pa and just retreated to the back seat of the car. Pa crooked his elbow and Ma stuck her arm through it. They walked back to the car, arm in arm and parted when they got in front of it. Pa slid behind the wheel and Ma slid in beside him. They turned around, headed back to the main road and drove off into the night.
*****
Clay Cooper, who had recently retired from his private investigations business, and who had turned it over to his son, Elliott, looked up at the string that stretched across the room. Brightly colored balloons had been tied to the string and there were several of these strings adorning the ceiling of the rented hall. Elliott stood up on a step ladder, tying more balloon strings to the cross members of the dropped ceiling. Across the extra wide doorway hung a series of letters that spelled out “Happy Retirement, Dean” in glittery gold cardboard. Elliott stepped down to take a look at his handy work. He nodded approval when he got a look at the overall effect. He liked it and turned to his business partner and fiancée, Gloria Campbell.
“What do you think?” he said, his arms crossed over his chest.
Gloria grabbed Elliott’s arm. “He’s going to love it,” she said. “And he’ll probably love his retirement even more.”
Dean Hollister had been with the Los Angeles Police Department for more than thirty years, finishing up as a Lieutenant, the same job his father, Dan had held up until his death decades earlier. Dean had only recently decided to step down and coast through the rest of his life. Once Dean retired, the job of Lieutenant was sure to go to Sergeant Eric Anderson, Dean’s frequent partner and a long-time cop himself.
Clay walked over to where Gloria and Elliot stood admiring the decorations. “Looks like I may have a fishing partner soon,” he told Elliott.
Clay and Dean had been friends since they were old enough to walk, Clay being one year older than Dean. Their fathers had worked together on many occasions. Clay’s father, Matt had been a cop under Dan Hollister before leaving to start Cooper Investigations in 1946. They remained close friends and occasionally called on each other for help on their respective cases.
“What time can you get him here?” Gloria said to Clay.
“I told him we were going to the seven-thirty movie,” Clay said. “I can have him here by then.”
“And you’re sure he doesn’t suspect anything?” Gloria said.
“I can’t guarantee a total surprise,” Clay said. “He’s been talking about retirement for a while now so it is possible that he could see this coming.”
“Just try to be subtle,” Elliott said. “Don’t drag him in here with some lame excuse and then go out of your way not to make eye contact with him. He’ll figure that out in a damn hurry.”
“Just leave it to me,” Clay said. “He’ll be so surprised that I’ll have another heart attack.”
Gloria’s face dropped. “Clay,” she said solemnly, “Don’t even joke about that. We almost lost you twice and it wasn’t funny then, either.”
“All right,” Clay said. “I’ll see you both tonight at seven-thirty. Gotta run.”
Elliott looked at his dad. “Go on,” he said. “You don’t want to keep those pigeons waiting. If you don’t toss ‘em their peanuts, they could starve.”
Clay
waved his smart-alec son off and left without comment.
Gloria looked at her watch. “Gees,” she said to Elliott, “we still have five hours to kill.”
Elliott grabbed Gloria’s hand and pulled her toward the exit door. “I have a few ideas that could kill some time,” he said.
“Sure,” Gloria said, “But what do we do for the other four hours and fifty minutes?”
Elliott stopped dead in his tracks and gave Gloria a sideways glance. “How soon you forget,” Elliott reminded her. “Last time we made it last for nearly half an hour.”
“That’s because you didn’t hurry things,” Gloria said. “This time when we eat the pizza, try to chew before swallowing. I only got three of the eight pieces from that last pie. You have to savor the flavor. You can’t do that by inhaling the pizza.”
“Skip the pizza,” Elliott said. “We still have a few loose ends to tie up back at the office.”
“That’s it?” Gloria said. “This is your idea of killing five hours? Pizza or office work? I can see the romance has gone out of this relationship. Come on, Romeo, we’ve got paperwork to do.” She emphasized paperwork as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.
“What more romantic than returning to the place where we first met?” Elliott said.
He and Gloria had first met in Elliott’s office two years earlier, when Clay was home recovering from his first heart attack. Elliott had hired Gloria to fill in until Clay could return to work. In the meantime, Gloria had worked her way into Elliott’s heart and managed to stay there, but only after having first had her fling with Clay, which contributed to his second heart attack. Clay and Gloria mutually agreed to call off the relationship in order to spare Clay from another possible heart attack.
Elliott and Gloria hadn’t been in their office for more than three minutes when the phone on Elliott’s desk rang. Elliott set his pencil down and grabbed the handset, lifting it to his ear. “Cooper Investigations,” he said.