by Bill Bernico
“Did Elliott tell you about the case we took that required us to ride the train to Flagstaff?” Gloria said.
“As a matter of fact, he did,” Henry said. “What else have you got for me?”
“Well,” Gloria said, “you may find this interesting. Seems there was this old guy, he had to be in his eighties. Apparently he had crossed paths with Clay’s father, Matt back in the forties. Well, he had served a decade or five behind bars and got out in his late eighties. The guy sure knew how to hold a grudge and came looking for anyone connected with his case from all those years ago. And he still knew how to kill people.”
“In his eighties?” Henry said.
Gloria nodded. “And who would have suspected an old guy like that?” she said. “He had the perfect camouflage, just walking around in plain sight. No one would have thought to be afraid of him, and that was their mistake.”
“Were you able to stop him?” Henry said.
“In a roundabout way,” Gloria said. “When we caught up with him, the excitement was too much for him and he dropped dead right there in front of us from a heart attack. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?”
Henry made a few notes on his pad and circled one area for emphasis. “I like that one,” he said. “That will be one of the highlights of this book and hopefully the movie, as well.” He finished scribbling on his pad, looked up at Gloria and said, “Would you like to tell me a little about your family, Gloria?”
“Which one?” she said. “My family before I got involved with The Coopers, or as part of the Cooper family?”
“Since this is about The Coopers,” Henry explained, “how about if you tell me about your family with Elliott and,” he looked through his notes. “What was your son’s name again?”
“Matthew Clayton Elliott Cooper,” Gloria said. “We named him for Elliott’s grandfather, father and him.”
Henry smiled widely. “Another nugget that readers and movie-goers will eat up with a spoon,” Henry said. “Go on.”
“Do you see the irony here, Henry?” Gloria said. “Someday little Matt will take over the investigations business, becoming the fourth generation of Coopers to carry on. Someday there will be another Matt Cooper, Private Eye, and we find that very satisfying.”
Henry scribbled furiously on his pad, circling what he written, several time. He looked up at Gloria. “This is going to be one hell of a project,” he said. “It has all the elements—crime, mystery, love, suspense, family and who knows what else will surface during these interviews.”
Gloria glanced at her wrist watch and sprung from the chair. “Look at the time,” she said. “I didn’t mean to spend this much time here. I’ve got a case I need to be working on. Do you have everything you need from me, Henry?”
“For now,” Henry said. “Like I told Clay and Elliott, I’d like to sit down with all three of you for the final interview and see if we can find a common thread to piece all of this information together into a book. Does that work for you, Gloria?”
“That’ll be fine,” Gloria said, heading for the door. “We can talk about it another time. I have to get going. Thank you, Henry.”
Before Henry could answer her, the door had closed behind Gloria. She sprinted down the hall to the elevator and rode it to the lobby. She found her car and hurried back to the office. She called Elliott’s cell phone and got him on the second ring.
“Elliott Cooper,” I said.
“Elliott,” Gloria said. “Where are you and Clay? What are you doing? What do you want me to do?”
“We’re at Lucas’s house,” I said. “There’s no one here. We tried his phone and no one answers. Dad and I are heading over to Willoughby’s competitors. There were three of them on Willoughby’s list. We can save a lot of time if each of us takes one of those names and follows up on it. Oh, and one more thing. Willoughby asked that we not tell the competitors why we’re visiting them. He figures if they get wind that Lucas is trying to freelance the formula to any of them, that they’ll take an active part in seeking him out and that’ll make all our jobs just that much harder.”
“All right,” Gloria said. “Who’s going where?”
“Dad’s going to Excelsior Bottling on Melrose Avenue,” I said. “I’m going to see the president of Bubble Bright Soda downtown.”
“What does that leave for me?” Gloria said.
“I’d like you to go and see a man named Herbert Beaumont at the Sundrop Sodas,” I said. “They’re over on Ripple Street, northeast of Silver Lake. You know where that is?”
“Sure do,” Gloria said. “I’m on my way. Are we all meeting someplace afterwards?”
“We’ll all keep in touch by phone,” I said. “We’ll probably decide on some central location when we’re all finished.”
“Catch you later,” Gloria said, and closed her phone. She drove east toward Glendale and the Silver Lake district. Ripple Street was nestled in a little triangle between the Golden State Freeway, the Glendale Freeway and the Los Angeles River. She parked in the lot next to the main office and found a receptionist sitting behind the counter when she walked in.
“Good morning,” the woman behind the counter said. Her name plaque identified her as Helen Baker.
“Good morning,” Gloria said. “My name is Gloria Cooper. Would it be possible to speak with Mr. Beaumont?”
Helen Baker looked down at several sheets that were clipped to a clipboard and then back up at Gloria. “Mr. Beaumont is in a meeting at the moment. Can anyone else help you?”
“What about your head of personnel?” Gloria said.
“I’m sorry,” Helen said. “We’re not accepting any applications at the moment. Perhaps if you wish to leave your application with me, I can file it away for when they are looking to hire.”
“Thanks,” Gloria said, “but I’m not looking for a job.” She pulled her I.D. and shield out of her purse and held them up for the receptionist to see, but only briefly. “Actually, I’m looking into some irregularities in the bottling business. Who can I talk to regarding production?”
“Yes, of course,” Helen said, straightening up in her chair and grabbing her phone. “I’ll see who’s available for you. Just a moment, please.” A moment later she hung up her phone and looked up at Gloria. “Mr. Penrose will see you in just a minute.”
“Thank you,” Gloria said, slipping her I.D. case back into her purse. In less than a minute, the door behind the receptionist opened and a stout man with a semi-circle of gray hair emerged. He walked straight toward Gloria and held out his hand.
“Miss Cooper?” Penrose said.
“Mrs. Cooper,” Gloria told him.
“What can I do for you today?” Penrose said.
“Is there someplace we can talk in private?” Gloria said.
“Certainly,” Penrose said, directing Gloria into his office. He gestured toward a chair across from his desk and invited Gloria to sit. Penrose sat behind his desk and gave Gloria his undivided attention.
“Mr. Penrose,” Gloria said, “we’re looking into certain irregularities in the bottling industry. I’m not at liberty to go into detail with you, but what we’d like to know is if anyone has approached your company offering their services in your research and development departments.”
Penrose shook his head, his two chins wiggling even after his head had stopped shaking. “No one has come to us, Mrs. Cooper. We’ve had the same R&D crew for the past six years. Mr. Beaumont is very particular about who we hire, especially when it comes to R&D. This is a very competitive business, after all.”
“So I’ve been told,” Gloria said. “If anyone had approached your company, would you know about it, Mr. Penrose?”
“I’m am second only to Mr. Beaumont around here,” Penrose said. “If anything happens in this company he and I would know about it. We don’t share much with the other managers below me. No, I’m sure we haven’t had anyone like that around here.”
Gloria rose from her chair. “Well, thank you
for your time, Mr. Penrose,” she said. “I can show myself out.”
Penrose studied Gloria for a moment as she was leaving. “Which branch of law enforcement did you say you were with, Mrs. Cooper?” he said.
Gloria’s eyes shifted back and forth and landed on Penrose’s face. “I didn’t,” she said with a stern look playing on her face. “And I was never here. Do you understand, Mr. Penrose?”
“Certainly,” Penrose said. “Confidentiality, I understand.”
Gloria closed the office door behind her and finally let her face smile. Some people can be so gullible, she thought.
Clay Cooper headed west on Melrose Avenue and turned south on LaBrea for several blocks. The building labeled Excelsior Bottling was smaller than Clay had imagined. This was no doubt just the corporate headquarters. Their bottling plant must be located somewhere else. Clay parked out on the street and walked to the main entrance of the company.
Once inside, he was greeted by a young man in a sports coat and slacks. “Good morning, sir,” the man said. A small name tag pinned to his lapel identified him as Tim Tyler.
“You must be Tim,” Clay said as he approached with his hand extended.
“Tyler shook it and said, “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so,” Clay said.
“Well, then how did you…?” Tyler said and then glanced down at his name tag. “Clever, very clever.”
“Tim,” Clay said, retrieving his I.D. and shield. “Who would I talk to around here about your R&D department?” He flashed the badge quickly and tucked it back into his coat.
“That would be Terry Morgan,” Tim said.
“And is he in?” Clay said.
“She,” Tim said.
“Pardon,” Clay said.
“She,” Tim repeated. “Terry Morgan is a woman.”
“Yes, of course,” Clay said. “Could I speak with her?”
“What is this regarding, Mr…?” Tim said and waited for a response.
“Cooper,” Clay said. “Clay Cooper, and it’s a confidential matter. So if I may speak with her…”
“One moment, Mr. Cooper,” Tim said. “Let me check.” He disappeared behind one of several doors in that hallway. Two minutes later Tim returned and gestured for Clay to follow him down the hall. Tim opened the second door on the right and held it open until Clay was inside. “Won’t you have a seat? Miss Morgan will be with you in a minute.”
Clay waited in silence as he scanned the room. It was surprisingly non-descript for a company worth tens of millions of dollars. Apparently they invested their money in their product and not in their office space. One wall sported painting of outdoor scenes. The painting didn’t look to be originals. On another wall were several plaques with different names on them, announcing to the world what each recipient had done to earn such an honor. The third wall had nothing but windows to the street. Clay could see his car from where he sat.
Three more minutes passed while Clay waited for Terry Morgan to come in. As he stood looking out the window, the door behind him opened and a middle-aged woman in a blue business suit walked in. She made eye contact with Clay and then smiled. Tim hadn’t come back in with her.
“I’m Terry Morgan,” she said. “Did you want to see me?”
“Miss Morgan,” Clay said. “My name is Clay Cooper and we are looking into an incident that may or may not have affected your company. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
“Such as?” Morgan said.
“Such as, have you hired any new employees in the past ten days to two weeks,” Clay said. “Or has anyone approached this company with any suspicious offers?”
“Sounds serious,” Morgan said. “What would you call suspicious, Mr. Cooper?”
“Without going into too much detail,” Clay said, “have there been any unusual inquiries into your R&D department’s procedures?”
“Can you tell me what this is all about?” Morgan said.
“I’m afraid confidentiality prohibits that at this time,” Clay said. “What we are looking into falls under the category of industrial sabotage, and as you are no doubt aware, Miss Morgan, that is a felony.”
“Well, I can assure you that none of our employees is involved in such dealings,” Morgan said.
“I’m not necessarily talking about your employees,” Clay said. “What we’re worried about may be from an outside source, and they may have targeted several soft drink bottlers in this area. What I’m asking of you is the same thing I’m asking of the other companies involved. I’m afraid that’s all I can say about this incident at the moment, unless I get clearance from higher up. I thank you for your cooperation, Miss Morgan. Please call us if you suspect anything at all.”
I handed her one of my cards and she examined it. “You’re a private investigator?” she said, the tone in her voice a little more forceful now.
I nodded. “Yes, but my firm has been retained to look into this before it becomes a matter for the police and possibly the FBI.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave, Mr. Cooper,” Morgan said.
We stared each other down for a few seconds. She won and I turned to leave. “Thank you for your time, Miss Morgan. I’ll be in touch.”
Clay left the building and returned to his car. He immediately pulled his notepad out of his jacket pocket and jotted down the essence of his conversation with Terry Morgan. Clay slipped the notepad back into his pocket and dialed Elliott’s cell phone.
“Dad,” Elliott said upon answering, “what did you find out?”
“I’m not getting a good feeling from my contact Excelsior Bottling,” Clay said. “I get the feeling she’s not being totally candid with me. She’s holding something back. I can feel it. How’d you do at the Bubble Bright Company?”
“They wouldn’t even let me into the building, let alone talk to me about anything,” I said. “Have you heard from Gloria?”
“Not yet,” Clay told me. “I’ll try her number when we hang up.” Clay paused for a moment.
“Are you still there, Dad?” I said.
“Just a minute,” Dad said. “There’s someone watching me from that window across the street. Whoever it is is in that same room that I just left. I’ll talk to you later, Elliott. I’m getting away from this place.”
Clay pulled away from the curb and headed back toward the office. He dialed Gloria’s cell and waited. Six rings later Gloria answered.
“What’s up?” Clay said. “You usually answer within two rings.”
“I had to pull out of traffic,” Gloria explained. “I’m in the parking lot at the supermarket. What did you find out?”
“My contact wouldn’t tell me anything,” Clay said. “And Elliott’s trip was a bust. They wouldn’t even let him in the building. How’d you do?”
“Well,” Gloria said, “I didn’t get thrown out. That’s something anyway. But after talking to my contact, I got the feeling that either he really didn’t know anything or no one had approached him. Either way, I think mine was a dead end. Where are we all meeting?”
“There’s a Pizza Hut near Beverly and Normandie,” Clay said. “Know it?”
“I’m sure I can find it,” Gloria said. “But why there?”
“I’m thinking it’s probably the most centrally located place for all three of us,” Clay explained. “I’ll see you there in twenty minutes. I’ll call Elliott back and let him know.” Clay closed his phone and drove south toward Beverly Boulevard. From what he’d learned so far, it seemed like all three of them were chasing a ghost. Simon Lucas may have had plans for the soda formula, but it didn’t look like they included the neighborhood competition.
I was the first to arrive at the Pizza Hut. Their lot was almost empty, but then again it would have to be a slow time for them. It was well after the lunch crowd and too soon for the dinner customers to start showing up. I walked in and found a booth near the window so I could watch for Gloria and Dad. Gloria pulled into the lot a few mi
nutes later and Dad followed shortly after that.
Dad found the booth with me and Gloria in it, sitting across from each other. We were both sipping from our Pepsi glasses when he walked up and slid into the booth next to Gloria.
“Did you order already?” Dad said.
“I did,” I told him. “I just ordered us a large pizza and three Pepsis. Yours is coming.”
While we waited for our food, Dad jumped right in with his findings. “You couldn’t get in,” he said, looking at me. He turned to Gloria. “And I got a bad feeling about the place I visited. And it sounds like your trip was for nothing as well. I’d say we’re not doing too well.”
“Maybe it’s just the nature of the business,” I said. “After all, there are literally millions of dollars at stake with all these soft drink companies. I remember reading somewhere how much soda Americans consume every year. The money they take in could support quite a few small countries, so it’s no wonder we’re getting stonewalled. So what are we going to do next? Lucas is not at home, he hasn’t been to the competition, as far as we know and he not back at work for Willoughby.”
No one said a word for a few moments. “Jump in any time now,” I said. “Anyone?”
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I fished it out. “Elliott Cooper,” I said. “Yes. No, we all just came back from… Well, no I hadn’t heard. Really? When? We’re on our way.” I closed my phone and slid out of the booth just as the clerk brought our pizza.
Dad turned to the clerk and peeled off a twenty dollar bill and handed it to the kid. “Could you put that in a box to go?” he said. “We have to leave.”
“Where are we going?” Gloria said.
“Over to Willoughby’s factory,” I said. “They found Simon Lucas and Willoughby wants to talk to all of us. How about if you both ride with me? I can bring you back her for your cars when we’re finished.”
“I don’t want to sit in the back of that rolling stakeout you call a van,” Gloria said.
“Neither do I,” Dad said. “Let’s take my car. I’ll bring you two back here afterwards.”
Dad drove us to the Willoughby Bottling Company and pulled into the parking lot. George Willoughby met us at the front office and summoned us over with a crook of his finger.