by Bill Bernico
Dad and Gloria agreed to the plan and we all got up off the sofa and returned to respective desks. I made myself a few notes about tomorrow’s meeting and got up again, heading for the office door.
“Where are you going now?” Dad said.
“I have a few things to take care of,” I said. “It’s nearly quitting time anyway. I’ll see you both tomorrow morning at quarter to nine.” I left the office and rode the elevator to the lobby.
“What’s with him?” Gloria said, her eyebrows furrowing. “He’s acting a little strange.”
“I’m not sure,” Clay said. “But I think it might have something to do with his interview with Henry this afternoon. He told me that he thinks he might have let something slip that he wasn’t supposed to, but he said Henry told him he’d make sure it didn’t wind up in the book. What do you suppose it was he let slip?”
“God, I hope it wasn’t that little fling he had with Jane out in the desert,” Gloria said.
“I should never have told you about that,” Clay said. “That just slipped out. I’m really sorry you had to find out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gloria said. “Elliott didn’t do it intentionally. Remember, he had amnesia and didn’t ever remember that he had a wife. I can’t blame him for that. I was just glad to get him back in one piece. I just want to make sure that he never finds out that I know about it.”
“He won’t hear it from me,” Clay said.
“That’s good,” Gloria said. “We’ve been getting along just great ever since he got back from that awful desert and I wouldn’t want to make things awkward between us because of it.”
“Good idea,” Clay said. “And we have to make sure he never finds out that we were once involved. I don’t think that would sit well with him at all.”
“You can say that again,” Gloria said. “It could make our working relationship awfully difficult, to say the least. I like things the way they are.”
There was an awkward moment of silence between Clay and Gloria. Gloria broke the silence and said, “Why didn’t you and Jane ever make a connection that day?”
“We did,” Dad said. “That day. I spent a few days with Jane at her place in the desert and we talked a lot about a possible future. She didn’t want to leave her home and I sure as hell didn’t want to live in any desert, Jane or no Jane. And I guess that was that. We left it open for the future. If she comes this way or if I go that way, we have a date, but that’s the extent of it.”
“Too bad,” Gloria said. “You two made a cute couple.”
Clay gestured toward his face with both hands. “You call this mug cute?” he said. “Rugged, maybe. Chiseled, okay. Even ordinary, but cute? I don’t think so.”
“Still,” Gloria said, “someday you’ll make one hell of a catch for someone. They say there’s a lid for every kettle.”
“And which am I?” Clay said. “The lid or the kettle?”
“It depends on who’s doing the looking,” Gloria said. “If you’re looking, you’ll find a lid. If someone finds you, they are the kettle. Either way, whatever happens will happen as it is supposed to. Just give it time.”
The following morning I arrived at The Copper Penny earlier than Dad or Gloria. She couldn’t ride with me, since she was leaving this meeting early to get to her interview. I’d have thought Dad would be here ahead of me, since he lived right here in Glendale. I sat in a booth facing the front windows and waited while I drank my glass of chocolate milk. Five minutes later Dad pulled up in a space just outside the window where I was sitting. He saw me through the glass and waved as he got out of his car. Before he even made it to the front door, Gloria pulled into the space right next to Dad’s car. They walked in together and joined me in the booth.
“Good morning,” I said as Gloria slid in beside me and Dad slid in across from us. I turned to Gloria. “Did you want some coffee?” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d better get mine now so I can be finished about the time I have to leave.” What about you and Dad?”
“We’d better wait until Willoughby gets here,” Dad said. “Can’t have the client feeling awkward about drinking alone.”
Gloria ordered her coffee and turned back to me. “It’s important that we make a good first impression,” she said. “He’s already met me and I think I came off as professional, but you two had better hold back until he knows you.”
“Hold back?” I said. “Whatever are you talking about?”
Gloria gave me a stern look. “You know what I’m talking about, Elliott,” she said. “None of your wisecracks or flippant remarks. That won’t impress him and we don’t want to risk a high roller like Willoughby. He probably spends more on a suit than we make in two months, so how about if you two clowns try to be on your best behavior just this once, all right?”
Dad and I exchanged glances and then we each made a grotesque face at each other. “Whaddya say, Clem?” I told Dad in my overdone Southern accent. “Y’all gonna behave yoself?”
“Duh,” Dad said, bending his index finger at the first knuckle and pressing it against his nostril.
Gloria slapped me on the shoulder and turned sharply to Dad. “You’re like a couple of kids, you are,” she said to Dad.
We both straightened up and sat with our hands folded in front of us, our fingers interlaced, like a couple of innocent choir boys. Neither one of us breathed.
“You don’t have to overdo it,” Gloria said. “Come on now, act like a couple of adults. Here he comes now.”
George Willoughby was in his mid-seventies, but looked a decade younger. He wore a camel hair overcoat and a tan snap-brim hat. He still had a lot of bounce in his step for a man fifteen years older than Dad, I had to admit. He stopped just inside the door and looked around the coffee shop. He caught Gloria’s eye and she waved to him, beckoning him over to our booth. He stepped up to Gloria and shook her hand cordially.
“George Willoughby,” Gloria said, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Elliott Cooper and his father, Clay.”
Dad and I both slid out of the booth and stood facing Willoughby. I extended my hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Willoughby,” I said. “Gloria’s told us some things about you and your problem. I’m sure we’ll be able to set things straight for you.”
“Thank you,” young man,” Willoughby said, turning to Dad, who also shook Willoughby’s hand.
“Willoughby?” Dad said. “Have you ever seen that Twilight Zone episode called, “A Stop At Willoughby” where the businessman goes back to the turn of the century to escape the pressures of his everyday job? At least he went back there in his mind.”
Dad could feel some pressure on the top of his left foot. He looked down to see Gloria’s foot pressing down on his. He glanced at her and saw her giving him her ‘behave yourself’ look.
George Willoughby smiled. “Oh, I have to say that is my favorite Twilight Zone episode,” Willoughby explained. “And not just because of the name connection, either. Many a time I felt like I wished I could go back to a simpler time when the everyday pressures of the job start getting to me. Kind of like Martin Sloan in, “Walking Distance,” another one of my favorites.” Willoughby smiled and stared off into space for a moment before coming back to reality. “So, shall we sit and get down to business?”
I gestured toward a table with four chair. “It might be easier at a table than in this booth,” I said. The four of us stepped over to a table in the corner and each took a chair. Dad shot Gloria a quick glance when Willoughby wasn’t looking. He stuck his tongue out at here and smiled. Gloria frowned and then quickly switched to her smiling face when Willoughby turned back toward her.
Gloria broke the ice with her opening remark. “Mr. Willoughby,” she said. “I’ve already filled Elliott and Clay in on the rough points of your problem. You’ll want to fill them in with the details. Unfortunately I have a prior appointment this morning, but rest assured all three of us will be working on your case by the end of thi
s morning.”
Willoughby looked put off momentarily and looked at Gloria. “Well,” he said, “at least there are two dedicated, serious workers in your firm.”
As if connected by the same wire, Dad and I both turned to face Gloria. Our eyes told her volumes without having to say a word.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Willoughby,” Gloria said. “This previous appointment couldn’t have been avoided, but I assure you that I will give your problem my undivided attention before noon today. Elliott and Clay will already have a good start on it by then. Don’t you worry about it.”
Willoughby turned his attention to Clay, specifically. “Tell me, Mr. Cooper,” he said, “do you have much experience in this line of work?”
“About forty years worth,” Dad explained. “My father started this business more than sixty-five years ago and Elliott, there, is the third generation of Coopers to go into the private investigator trade. There’s almost nothing we haven’t seen or done and frankly, there aren’t many situations that surprise us anymore.”
“That’s good to hear,” Willoughby said. “I have a lot at stake here. I have to find Simon Lucas before he does anything stupid with our formula. If that formula got out it could ruin me.”
“What would you like us to do with him when we find him?” Elliott said.
Willoughby turned to Elliott. “I don’t suppose you can force him to come with you, can you?” he said.
“Not unless we want to face kidnapping charges,” I said.
“Well, then,” Willoughby continued, “I need you to find him and tell him that if he’ll just come back to the company and if he hasn’t shared that formula with anyone, that’ll I’ll take him in as a partner for a percentage of the company.”
“It means that much to you, does it?” Clay said.
“More,” Willoughby said emphatically. “Without Simon and that formula, I might as well close my doors. I should have realized that long before now, but I was so blinded by our success that I neglected to give credit where credit was due.”
Gloria checked her watch and rose from her chair. “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” she said. “If you will excuse me.” She turned to me and said, “I’ll catch up with you two later this morning.” She turned back to Willoughby. “Mr. Willoughby, thank you for your business and just let me say again that we will give it a hundred and ten percent.”
Willoughby stood, shook Gloria’s hand and waited until she had gone before he sat again. He turned back to Dad. “Seems like a great gal, but frankly, I think she takes life a little too seriously. You should teach her to lighten up a little and enjoy life.”
“You can bet we’ll do that first chance we get,” I told him. “First chance.”
Willoughby reached into his overcoat pocket and withdrew a folded slip of paper. He unfolded it and set it in front of Dad, pointing down at it. “I’ve taken the liberty of writing down all I know about Simon Lucas,” he said. “You’ll find his full name, address, phone number, known places that he frequents, nearest living relatives and a few other tidbits that may help you locate him. At the bottom of the page I’ve written down the names of my three closest competitors. These are the companies Lucas is likely to try to pedal the formula. Is there anything you require, Mr. Cooper?”
“Just one thing, Mr. Willoughby,” Dad said.
“And what’s that?” Willoughby said.
“Please, call me Clay, if you would,” Dad said. “Mr. Cooper was my dad and he’s dead.”
Willoughby chuckled and said, “Very well, Clay. But you’ll have to agree to call me George. I don’t care if I live to be a hundred, ‘Mr. Willoughby’ always sounds like some old guy in a nursing home and that guy is just not me.”
Dad rose from his chair and stuck his hand out. “Done,” he said.
Willoughby shook Dad’s hand and then turned his attentions to me. “And you, young man. That goes for you, too. May I call you Elliott?”
“Call me whatever you like,” I said. “Just don’t call me late for supper.”
Willoughby stopped smiling momentarily and broke out in a wide grin. “I like you, young man,” Willoughby said. “You may call me George as well. And just make sure to loosen up that wife of yours. She makes me uncomfortable.”
“Consider it done,” I said.
We both waited until Willoughby had driven away from the coffee shop before we both broke out in laughter. I looked at Dad. “Way to go, Clem.”
Gloria walked down the hallway of the hotel and stopped in front of Henry Mandell’s room. She tapped the door knocker three times and waited. Henry came to the door in socks and slippers. His coat hung on the back of the door and Henry stood there with his tie loosed up and dangling from his starched white shirt.
“Come in, Gloria,” Henry said. “I’ve been looking forward to this interview.”
“Oh?” Gloria said.
“Yes,” Henry said. “As one of its newer members, I wanted to get your perspective on this family business. Please, come in and have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Not right now,” Gloria said. “I just came from a cup of coffee. Maybe a bit later.”
Henry explained his procedure to Gloria and she agreed that she didn’t mind him using the digital recorder during their interview. “It helps me get accurate quotes and inflections,” he explained. “Just writing things down could lead to confusion.”
“I understand,” Gloria said. “It’s not a problem. Shall we begin? Elliott, Clay and I just took on a new case this morning and they’re already working on it. I need to join them as soon as we finish here.”
“Well, then let’s not waste another minute,” Henry said, gesturing toward the overstuffed chair where Clay and Elliott had each sat. He switched on the recorder and set it on the coffee table between them. Henry Mandell flipped over the last page of his yellow legal pad and sat poised with his pencil. “What I’d like to do,” he said, “is have you start at the point where you come into the picture and give me a little background on yourself, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Gloria said. “Well, I guess we’d have to go back nearly three years to when Clay had his first heart attack. That’s when Elliott hired me to take up the slack in his business.”
Henry held up one finger. “If I may interrupt for a second,” he said. “If I find you’re telling me something that Clay or Elliott has already told me, I can stop you and you can go on to another part of the story. That’ll get you out of here quicker. Would that be all right, Gloria?”
“Sure,” Gloria said. “What has Elliott already told you about when I started?”
Henry flipped a few pages back and stopped when he found the part he was looking for. He paraphrased, “Clay had his first heart attack, Elliott interviewed you for the job, you had all the qualifications.” He skipped ahead half a page. “Master of disguise, skilled marksman, Tae-Kwon-Do expert and licensed private eye. Is that accurate?”
“In a nutshell, yes,” Gloria said. “What is there left to tell you about?”
“Tell me about some of your most interesting cases,” Henry said. “Tell me about how you and Elliott eventually became a couple. Tell me about your family. Anything you’d like to tell me that might make a good storyline for the book.”
“Well,” Gloria said, “The first time I worked for Elliott, we really didn’t see each other in anyway other than professional partners. We remained at arm’s length until Clay was well enough to come back to work, at which time I quit, since there wasn’t enough work to support three people. Then when Clay had his second heart attack, Elliott called me to come back in and it was during that time that we made a connection. I can’t explain it. We just clicked that second time around.”
Henry jotted down a few notes to himself and then said, “So what did you do in between those two times you worked for The Coopers? How did you support yourself?”
“Well,” Gloria said, “I came to work for The Coopers because my dad had recently died a
nd I didn’t have enough working capital to keep the business going.”
“Yes,” Henry said, “Elliott mentioned something about that. He said you were able to get by on your father’s life insurance while you looked for other work.”
“Okay,” Gloria said. “Then how about if I tell you about my first case working with Elliott?”
“That would be fine,” Henry said.
“Actually, it was a case that my father and I had taken just before he was killed,” Gloria said. “I told Elliott about it, since he didn’t have a current case for us to work on. We had to track down a stolen guitar.”
“A stolen guitar,” Henry said. “I wouldn’t think the owner of the guitar would spend more on two private eyes than the guitar would be worth.”
“You would think that, Henry,” Gloria told him. “But this was no ordinary guitar. If memory serves, it was a 1959 Gibson ES-335 worth somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty thousand dollars.”
Henry looked up from his yellow pad. “Did you say thirty thousand dollars?” he said with some amazement.
“That’s right,” Gloria said. “Who knew those things appreciated with age? One recently sold in England for eighty thousand and they go even higher if there’s a celebrity connection. You could have bought that guitar new in ‘59 for a little more than two hundred fifty dollars.”
“And did you find it?” Henry said.
“We got to the bottom of the case, but the outcome wasn’t what the owner expected,” Gloria said.
“Why not?” Henry asked.
“Because someone else got involved and tried to substitute a Chinese knockoff in its place,” Gloria explained. “It wasn’t pretty.”
“So,” Henry said. “Not only did you come to Cooper Investigations with all the right credentials, you also brought a case with you. It doesn’t get any better than that, does it?”
“I guess not,” Gloria said modestly.
“Tell me some more about some of your most memorable cases,” Henry said.