by Bill Bernico
The cop dressed like the Wal-Mart employee grabbed a walkie-talkie from under his vest and called for backup and an ambulance and then hurried to Dean’s side. He knelt next to Dean and held Dean’s head in his hands. “You hurt bad?” he asked Dean.
Dean coughed and spit up blood. “Don’t tell Helen,” he said, and slumped over onto the pavement. The cop eased Dean’s head to the ground and stood next to the body. He grabbed his walkie-talkie again. “No hurry on that ambulance,” he said to the dispatcher and clicked off.
Eric got the call less than a minute later and sped to the scene from a block away. The parking lot had been cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape and there were already three black and white patrol cars blocking the entrances to the parking lot. The patrolmen were all busy keeping onlookers away from the dual death scene. Eric walked up to the first cop he saw and demanded to know what happened.
“How did this happen?” he barked.
The cop shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.
At that point the undercover cop in the blue Wal-Mart vest came over to where Eric was talking to the patrolman. “Lieutenant Anderson,” he said.
“What the hell happened here, Crowley?” Eric said.
“Everything went down just like it was supposed to,” Crowley said. “Hollister made the payment and gave the shooter a name and then he wiped his forehead with the handkerchief and we all started moving in. That’s all there is to it.” Crowley pointed to the dead hit man. “He started firing before we even moved in on him.”
Eric bent down and looked at Dean’s right hand. He pried the handkerchief from it and examined it. There was a tan stain on it about two inches long and an inch wide. He looked down at Dean’s forehead and noticed a similar-sized area that had been wiped clean. “Oh no,” Eric said when he realized what had happened.
An hour and a half later Eric made the call he’d been dreading.
“Cooper Investigations,” I said. “Elliot Cooper speaking.
“Elliott,” Eric said. “Is Clay there? Can I talk to him?”
“How’d it go, Eric?” I said.
“Please, Elliott,” Eric said. “I need to speak to Clay. Is he there?”
“Sure, Eric,” I said. “Hang on a minute.” I passed the phone to Dad. “It’s Eric.”
“Eric,” Dad said. “How’d it go?”
There was a pause that seemed to go on forever before Eric said, “No too well, Clay.”
“Is Dean all right?” Dad said, a little panic in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Dean’s dead.”
“What is it, Dad,” I said, when he dropped the phone and sat down on the leather sofa that sat against the wall in our office. “Dad,” I repeated. “I picked the phone up from the floor and held it to my ear. “Eric?” I said.
“Elliott,” Eric said, “I have to go by Dean’s house and talk to his wife. Make sure you stay with Clay for now. This has got to be rough on him.”
“Eric,” I said. “Is Dean okay?”
“No, Elliott,” Eric said. “Dean’s dead and it’s my fault for sending him into this mess in the first place. I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later after I see Dean’s wife.”
I hung up the phone and sat next to Dad on the sofa.
Gloria sat on his other side and looked at me strangely. “Is it Dean?” she said. “Please tell me he’s all right, Elliott.”
I shook my head and stared at the floor. “No, he’s not,” I said and wrapped my arm around Dad’s shoulder.
Twenty minutes later Eric pulled up in front of Dean’s house and killed his engine. He sat there for a few seconds, wondering how he was going to tell Helen Hollister that her husband had died doing police work after he was supposed to be retired.
Eric spent the next fifteen minutes with Helen, holding her and crying along with her as he told her of Dean’s last words. A minute later the Hollister doorbell rang and Eric opened the door. A police woman and a nurse walked into the house and took up positions alongside Helen Hollister.
“Helen,” Eric said, gesturing toward the police woman. “This is Officer Sandra Blake. She and this nurse will stay with you for a while. I have a few things to take care of. Helen, I’m so sorry about all of this. I wish I could take it all back and start over. If I could, I’d trade places with Dean right now. You try to get some rest and I’ll talk to you when I finish my other business.”
Eric left Helen with the other two women and drove to the office of Cooper Investigations. By the time he walked into the office, Dad had managed to compose himself enough to talk to Eric. Dad stood to greet Eric, and when he shook Eric’s hand, Eric wrapped his other arm around Dad and pulled him in tight.
“I’m so terribly sorry, Clay,” Eric said. “It all happened so fast that our guys couldn’t get there before it happened. I should never have gotten you two involved in any police business.”
Eric released his grip on Dad and stepped back. “Dean was a professional all the way,” Eric explained. “He did exactly what he was supposed to but sometimes you can’t account for the unexpected. According to the first undercover officer on the scene, the only thing Dean was worried about was what his wife was going to say. He told the cop, ‘Don’t tell Helen’ before he passed away.”
“Oh, God,” Gloria said. “Helen must be a wreck. I have to get over there.”
“I left her with a police woman and a nurse,” Eric explained. “The nurse will give her a sedative to help her rest. It might be better if you waited until tomorrow.”
I turned to Gloria. “Would you close up the office? I think I’ll drive Dad home. He could use some rest himself. “I’ll drive him home in his car. You can pick me up there in Dad’s car.”
“You think that’s wise?” Gloria said. “I think Clay should stay with us tonight. I don’t want him home alone tonight.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I’ll meet you at home. We can come back here tomorrow together.”
I turned to Eric. “Thanks for stopping by, Eric,” I said. “And don’t punish yourself for this. It sounds like it was something no one could have foreseen.”
“Thanks, Elliott,” Eric said. “I realize that but it’s still good to hear someone else tell me.” Eric left the office.
I turned to Dad. “Come on, Dad,” I said. “You’ll stay with us tonight.”
Dad didn’t offer any argument and walked with me to the elevator. Gloria straightened a few things up, set the answering machine and locked the office door. Dad and I were already in the lobby by the time Gloria had walked to the end of the third floor hall.
I drove Dad to our house and helped him inside. He slipped out of his jacket and I hung it up for him. Dad sat on the couch while I told Mrs. Chandler, our frequent babysitter, that she could have the rest of the day off.
My son, Matt came running into the living room when he heard the front door open. He ran straight toward Dad. “Grandpa,” Matt shouted. “Grandpa.” He crawled into Dad’s lap and laid his head on Dad’s chest, hugging him as tightly as he could. “I missed you, Grandpa. Did you miss me?”
Dad seemed to come out of his trance and looked down into Matt’s little innocent face. He squeezed Matt and pulled him to his chest. After a few seconds he let go.
“Grandpa,” Matt said. “Why are you crying? Did I do something bad?”
Dad hugged Matt again. “No, Matt,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just so glad to see you again.”
A few minutes later Gloria pulled into the driveway with Dad’s car. Matt ran up to greet her when she opened the door. “Momma,” Matt said, “Grandpa’s crying ‘cause he missed me.”
“That’s nice, Matt,” Gloria said. “Could you do me a big favor? Would you go to your room and play with your toys for a little while? I need to talk to Grandpa for a little while.”
“Sure,” Matt said, hugging Gloria’s legs. He ran to his room and closed the door.
“Are you hungry, Clay?” Gl
oria said. “I could fix you something.”
Dad held up one hand. “Not now, thanks,” he said. “Maybe later.”
We managed to get through the rest of the afternoon and evening without mentioning anything more about Dean’s unfortunate demise. It was only nine fifteen when Dad told us that he was tired and thought he’d go to bed early.
“Good night, Dad,” I said. “I know this will be hard for a while, but believe me, it will get better with time.”
“Thanks, son,” Dad said.
“Good night, Clay,” Gloria said and hugged Dad. She kissed him on the cheek and assured him that they’d talk more tomorrow when he was feeling somewhat better.”
“Thank you, too Gloria,” Dad said and retired to the guest bedroom.
“This has got to be about the hardest thing Dad’s ever gone thought,” I said.
Gloria was thinking about the time she and Clay had to split up due to his health, but didn’t mention anything to her husband about that being hard for him, too. By the time Clay and Gloria had stopped seeing each other as lovers, Clay had already had two heart attacks and Gloria didn’t want to be responsible for a third, and possibly fatal attack. Shortly afterwards, she and Elliott had become involved and eventually married.
“Poor guy,” Gloria said. “And just when he was starting to feel better about himself.”
“I know,” I said. “We’ll have to put our heads together and think of something for him to do to keep busy and to help keep his mind off this terrible day.”
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Gloria said. “This has been a rough day for all of us. I think I’m going to hit the sack early tonight myself. You coming?”
“In a minute,” I said.
The next morning as I quietly walked into the kitchen, I found Gloria already there, making pancakes and sausages. She had three large plates and one small plate set at the dining room table.
When she’d flipped the last pancake onto the platter, she turned to me and whispered, “You’d better get your dad up while this stuff is still hot.”
As Matt climbed up onto his booster chair, I headed toward the guest bedroom and eased the door open. The drapes were drawn and it was still dark. I could see Dad under the covers, his back turned toward the window. I walked over and pulled the drapes open and then turned back toward the bed. I nudged Dad’s shoulder and pulled the covers back.
I nudged him again. “Dad,” I said in a panic. “Dad, get up.” He didn’t move. Dad’s face was ashen and his lips were blue. “Gloria,” I yelled from Dad’s bedside.
Gloria came into the bedroom, a spatula in her hand. “What is it, Elliott? Are you two coming to breakfast?” She looked at my sunken face and then down at Dad’s face. She dropped the spatula. “No, no no,” she kept saying.
I dropped to my knees and laid my head on Dad’s cold body. I sobbed uncontrollably as Matt suddenly ran into the room.
Gloria grabbed him by the arm, spun him around and led him back out into the dining room. I could hear her from where I knelt; calling for an ambulance, even though we both knew it was too late by probably several hours.
They took Dad’s body out an hour later and I followed them to the medical examiner’s office. I wanted to talk to Coroner Andy Reynolds before he performed Dad’s autopsy, which I knew would be necessary. I guess I just wanted to remember Dad whole just one more time. Afterwards I signed all the necessary papers and forms and whatever else I needed to do to make arrangements that needed to be made.
I came back home two hours later and found Gloria playing with Matt on the living room floor. She got to her feet when she saw me and threw her arms around my neck. “Oh Elliott,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your dad. He was a great person.”
“Did you tell Matt yet?” I said.
Gloria shook her head. “I thought we should do that together,” she said. “He has to know something’s wrong, but I don’t think he’s put it together yet.”
“Poor little guy’s gonna be devastated,” I said. “He was really close to his grandpa.”
“Would you play with him for a bit, Elliott?” Gloria said. “I need to change the linens in the guest bedroom and clean up a little.”
“Sure,” I said. “Go ahead.”
Ten minutes later Gloria emerged from the guest bedroom with a blank look on her face. She was holding bits of paper in her hand.
“What is it, Gloria?” I said. “What do you have there?”
She handed me the bits of paper and I looked at them. It was the remains of more than twenty business cards that had been torn in half.
98 - California Or Bust
Eileen and Rob got back into their car and drove south. It didn’t matter where they were going
as long as they could see Sheboygan in their rear-view mirror. Their last pickpocket venture had netted them a big fat nothing once they realized that the proceeds from all the pockets they’d picked in that sleepy little Wisconsin town had been stolen from them. Some other criminals had cleaned them out after all their hard work.
“Where are we going?” Eileen said.
“Does it matter?” Rob told her. “I don’t care where we end up as long as we get out of the Dairy State. I’d like to settle someplace warm where we don’t have to worry about cold, windy days in Chicago or bitter, snowy days in Wisconsin. How’d you like to live in Florida?”
Eileen turned in her seat and gave Rob a puzzled look. “Florida?” she said. “What’s Florida got that I’d want?”
“It’s warm,” Rob said.
“So’s hell,” Eileen said, “but I wouldn’t want to live there, either.”
“What about Texas?” Rob said. “You might look good in a pair of cowboy boots and some fringe across your shoulders. That’s warm.”
“I also don’t wanna go anyplace where English is the second language,” Eileen said.
“Then suppose you pick the place,” Rob said.
Eileen gave it some thought and then said, “How about Arizona? It’s warm and dry and we could set up shop in some big city like Phoenix. There has to be a million pockets to pick in a city like that.”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “They tell you it’s a dry heat, but so is the inside of a microwave oven. Ever notice how people from Arizona have skin that looks like old shoe leather. No thanks. You might as well have suggested we go live on the sun.”
“All right, wise guy,” Eileen said. “Where do we go?”
“How about California?” Rob said. “Think about it. We blend into some big city like San Francisco or Los Angeles and help ourselves to whatever those kooks have in their pockets.”
“What makes them kooks?” Eileen said. “And why would you want to live amongst a bunch of kooks?”
“Haven’t you ever heard the old saying about God tilting the United States, causing all the fruits and nuts to roll to the west coast?” Rob said. “I probably got the quote wrong, but you get the idea. Anyway, we don’t have to live amongst them, just pick their pockets and retreat to whichever outlying city we decide to call home.”
Eileen stared out the window for a moment without comment.
“Well?” Rob said. “What do you think?”
“You just might be on to something there, Rob,” she said. “How long would it take us to drive to the coast?”
“Depends,” Rob said. “You want to drive straight through or make a few stops along the way to make a little traveling money?”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Eileen said. “We got nothing in Sheboygan. We’re going to have to ply our trade along the way if we expect to buy enough gas for the twenty-two hundred mile trip.”
“Then it’s settled,” Rob said. “California or bust, and this is our Conestoga wagon.” He patted the steering wheel with his hand.
Just under two hours later Rob crossed the Illinois State Line and picked up Interstate 294, which was a toll road into Illinois. Eileen unfolded the map, found the section they were now driving through an
d refolded it on her lap. She ran her finger down the toll road and said, “Take this south to 55 and then veer southwest. A little west of Joliet you can pickup I-80.”
“That’s great,” Rob said, “if we want to take the northern route. I’d rather head further south and then west. I say we stay on 55 all the way to St. Louis. From there we can take 44 all the way to Oklahoma City. Then we can get on 40 and take that all the way to the west coast. And that way we’ll have a few major cities along the way where we can refuel our wallets, so to speak.”
Eileen looked at the map again. “I see where you’re going,” she said. “We can pick a few pockets in St. Louis and then move on to Springfield and then Tulsa before spending the night in Oklahoma City. Works for me.”
By the time the two professional crooks drove out of Oklahoma City the next morning, they’d managed to add another hundred fifty dollars to the three hundred dollars they’d gathered in the first three major metropolises. After gas, food and lodging, they still had almost four hundred dollars to cover any further expenses on their way west.
At two thirty that afternoon Rob had passed the border into Texas. Shortly after four o’clock he drove on into New Mexico. Eileen checked her watch. “That’s it?” she said. “We made it all the way through Texas in an hour and a half? I guess it’s not as big as everyone says it is.”
“That was just the upper part,” Rob explained. “You probably couldn’t drive from the Gulf of Mexico to the top of the state in one day. Another thirty-five or forty minutes and we’ll be in Tucumcari.”
“You stepped in what?” Eileen said.
“Tucumcari,” Rob said. It’s a sleepy little town in New Mexico that sits in the shadow of Tucumcari Mountain.”
“Should I get out the camera?” Eileen said.
“Only if you have a very fast lens,” Rob told her. “If you pause to focus you’ll miss it completely. I only mentioned it because I spent one night there many years ago on my way to L.A. You know this route we’re taking used to be called Route 66. Now with the new Interstate Highway system, it’s called I-40.”