Cooper By The Gross (All 144 Cooper Stories In One Volume)

by Bill Bernico

  “That does sound suspicious,” I said. “Is there anything else that tipped you off?”

  “Just one thing,” he said. “Two weeks ago when she was getting ready for bed, I noticed that two of the three hooks on the back of her bra were unhooked. I didn’t think anything of it at the time and even joked with her about it. I told her she missed one hook and flipped it open for her. She seemed flustered when there was no need to be.”

  “Mr. Peterson,” I said. “I think you’re on the right track with your suspicions. What is it you need from me?”

  “Just follow her to Palm Springs next Tuesday and see where she goes,” Peterson said. “See if she’s meeting anyone other than her sister.”

  “So, she really does have a sister in Palm Springs,” I said. “Can you give me her name and address? That way I wouldn’t have to keep as tight a tail on her on the way to The Springs.”

  Peterson wrote down his sister-in-law’s name, address and phone number, along with a description of her car. He wasn’t sure of the license number.

  “How long was she supposed to be visiting her sister?” I said. “I mean, what day is she supposed to come back?”

  “Just until Friday,” Peterson said. “She told me she’d be home Friday around noon, so figure three days of your time and whatever else you charge.”

  “Expenses,” I told him, “would included sixty cents a mile for my car. Palm Springs is about a hundred ten miles one way, so figure at least three hundred miles. And there’s hotel accommodations for three days, nine meals and the day rate, of course.”

  “And what is your day rate?” Peterson said.

  “Two hundred a day,” I said, punching numbers into my desk calculator. “You’re probably looking at somewhere in the neighborhood of eleven hundred to twelve hundred dollars, depending on how far I have to follow her. Does that sound workable for you, Mr. Peterson?”

  “It would be worth it just for peace of mind to know one way or the other,” Peterson said.

  “Then I’ll draw up a contract and you can give me a retainer,” I said. “Would you also have a recent photo of your wife? I’ll also need her vitals—name, age, height, weight and whatever else you can tell me about her. If she has a cell phone, I’d like that number as well.”

  I got all the information I needed from Peterson as well as a check for six hundred dollars as a retainer. I wrote him a receipt and told him I’d be in his neighborhood Tuesday morning when Doris Peterson pulled out of the garage. He thanked me and walked out the door just as Gloria was walking back in. Peterson nodded to her on his way out and closed the door behind him.

  “Got a live one?” Gloria said.

  “Looks like it,” I said. “The old standard cheating wife case. I’ll be out of town next week for three days. I have to tail her to Palm Springs next Tuesday.”

  “Too bad she wasn’t leaving Monday,” Gloria said.

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because then you’d have an excuse not to talk to Mrs. Lawrence’s literature class,” Gloria said, laughing. “Looks like you’re stuck.”

  “Just my luck,” I said.

  Gloria hung a plastic wrapped garment on the coat hook and set her purse on her desk.

  “You really did have dry cleaning to pick up,” I said. “Wasn’t that handy?”

  “Wasn’t it, though,” Gloria said.

  I sat behind my desk again and dialed Eric Anderson. I found him in his office. “Eric,” I said. “Just wanted to thank you for the referral.”

  “Huh?” Eric said. “Who is this?”

  “This is the guy you stuck with the speaking engagement at Hollywood High School,” I said. “Thanks a lot, pal.”

  “You’re welcome, Elliott,” Eric said. “But do I detect a twinge of hostility?”

  I took the edge out of my voice. “I guess not,” I said. “But I don’t know if you’re aware or not, but I don’t like public speaking.”

  “Couldda fooled me,” Eric said. “You always seem pretty smooth whenever our paths cross.”

  “That’s different,” I said. “I could get on the bullhorn and tell a thousand people to step back and give us room, but twenty kids in a classroom with forty-two eyes on me, that’s another matter entirely.”

  “Forty-two?” Eric said. “Do two of these kids have a third eye in the middle of their foreheads?”

  “The teacher’s eyes,” I said. “I’m getting sweaty palms already just thinking about getting up there in front of that classroom. Next time, don’t do me any favors, okay?”

  “I’ll remember that,” Eric said. “Meanwhile, are you on anything right at the moment?”

  “Not right now,” I said. “My next case doesn’t start until next Tuesday, unless another call comes in. Why?”

  “Do you remember Joe Stein?” Eric said. “He used to walk a beat on the west end of Hollywood.”

  “Tall guy,” I said. “Gray hair, looks like Kirk Douglas without the chin dimple.”

  “That’s him,” Eric said.

  “What about him?” I said.

  “Joe retired nine years ago and having nothing to do is driving him up the wall,” Eric said. “He tried bagging groceries for a while but didn’t like it, especially when he had to take orders from some twenty-something manager. I figured you could do each other a favor by letting him tell you some of his cop stories. You’d get some material and he’d have something to do. You interested?”

  “You bet,” I said. “When is he available to talk to me?”

  “Pick a day,” Eric said. “I’m sure he could forego feeding the pigeons or walking laps around the block to talk to you whenever it’s convenient for you. Why don’t you give him a call? I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.” Eric gave me Joe’s phone number and address.

  “I’ll do that,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Does this get me off the hook for telling Mrs. Lawrence about you?” Eric said.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said and hung up. I turned to Gloria. “I think Eric just found me another source for material for the book—a retired patrolman named Stein. I’m going to give him a call. Think it would be all right if I interviewed him here at the office?”

  “Why not?” Gloria said. “I’d kind of like to hear his stories myself and maybe I could ask him a few questions that could lead to other stories. Sure, have him come on up.”

  I dialed Stein’s number and told him I’d just spoken to Lieutenant Anderson and asked if he was free to talk in my office.

  “You bet,” Stein said.

  “We’re at…” I said

  “I know right where you are,” Stein said. “Hollywood and Cahuenga, third floor.”

  “Have you been here before?” I said.

  Without hesitation Stein said, “August 4, 1975. It was a Monday.”

  “Now just how would you remember that particular day and date?” I said.

  “Because it was my twenty-fifth birthday,” Stein said. “Your dad invited me up for cake and coffee. Your grandfather was there, too, and the sign out front back then said, ‘Cooper and Son’. I always wondered why he took that down.”

  “Probably because Grandpa Matt retired a few years later and Dad wasn’t even married yet,” I said. “Hell, I didn’t come along until December of 1980 and Dad had the sign changed to Cooper Investigations and I just kept it that way. Maybe when my son, Matt is old enough and if he wants to join me in the family business, well, maybe then I’ll pull that old sign out of storage and hang it back up again.”

  “Have you finished your lunch?” Stein said.

  “Couple of hours ago,” I said.

  “Does now work for you, Elliott?” Stein said.

  “You know where to find me,” I said. “Come on up and bring your memories.”

  “That’s me you hear knocking,” Stein said and then hung up.

  Twenty minutes later my office door opened and Joe Stein poked his head in. I invited him in and we exchanged introductions. Gloria walked u
p to us and I introduced Joe to her.

  Joe looked at Gloria and smiled. “If I was just thirty years younger,” he said.

  Gloria smiled a bright white smile back at him. “Or if I was thirty years older,” she said.

  “Get a room,” I said, jokingly. That broke the tension and I invited Joe to have a seat on my leather sofa against the wall. “Care for some coffee, or beer or soda?”

  “Beer sounds good, Elliott,” Joe said.

  I turned to Gloria. “How about you?” I said. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’d like a cold soda.”

  I pulled the beer and two sodas from the half-sized refrigerator that sat next to the office sink. I handed out the refreshments and pulled my desk chair up, facing the sofa. Gloria sat next to Joe. I pulled out my mini digital recorder and turned it on, laying it on the coffee table in front of Joe.

  “You don’t mind if I record this, do you, Joe?” I said. “That way I don’t have to take notes and I can give you my undivided attention.”

  “Sure,” Joe said, sipping from his beer can. “So, what kind of stories are you looking for?”

  “Just whatever you can tell me about your days on the force,” I said. “If you’d had any interactions with Dad or Grandpa, they could also make for interesting reading. Just tell me the first memory that pops into your head.”

  Joe thought for a moment and then smiled, remembering one story in particular.

  “What’s so funny?” I said.

  “It’s just something you said a minute ago about getting a room,” Joe said. “It reminded me of one of my first encounters with the public. I was a rookie back then riding along with Jerry Burns. When you’re new and on the third shift in uniform, one thing that officers do on that shift is check cars parked in parks and out of the way places, and especially for teenagers who may be out after curfew and should be home.

  One night Jerry and I were out patrolling. It was maybe two or three o’clock in the morning and we saw a car drive in way down by a remote little area on the outskirts of Griffith Park. There were mounds of dirt piled up in that area and we were wondering what the hell they were pulling down there for. We waited a while to see if they would exit or what was going on. We thought maybe they’d just turn around and drive back out again. They didn’t, so Jerry turned the headlights out and went driving very slowly down this dirt road back into this area. We saw the car there, so I quickly jumped out with my flashlight and went to the driver’s door and threw my light in on the occupants. When I did, there was a female who evidently was a waitress sitting in the passenger side. She had a white waitress uniform on, and a guy behind the wheel, and I asked them what they were doing in there. They said they had just come down there to talk.”

  “I think I know the kind of talking that goes on down there,” I said.

  “Yeah, right,” Joe said. “So I asked them for some identification. She reached for her purse on the dashboard and took out identification. I was looking at him when he reached for his identification, and instead of putting his hand behind his back where a man keeps his wallet in his back pocket, I noticed he put his hand down in the front towards the side of the stomach. So I leaned over a little bit more and shined the flashlight inside the car and all I could see was the hairy calves of his legs.”

  Even Gloria had to laugh at this revelation. “I’ll bet he wasn’t there to get a leg tattoo,” she said.

  “Not exactly,” Joe said. “When I looked down, he had his pants just laying up on the top of his legs. He had just had enough time to take his pants and lay them on the top of his legs and when he reached for his wallet, which is why he had to reach down in front. So I asked him if that was a new way to wear his pants and he says something like, ‘No, I don’t think so. I guess I do look pretty ridiculous, don’t I?’

  I gave him a little lecture and sent them on their way and told them they should find a better place for their activities. Before they left, Jerry leaned over the passenger side window and told the girl to get a room. That’s why I was reminded of that story.”

  “Good one, Joe,” I said. “I’m going to try to combine some humorous stories like that one with a few grittier tales to try to balance the book out.”

  “You want gritty, I can give you gritty,” Joe said, looking at Gloria. “You sure you want to hear this?”

  “Don’t pull any punches with me,” Gloria told him. “I’ve seen it all. There’s not much left that can shock me.”

  “Okay,” Joe said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Well, there was this bar back in the early seventies called Art’s Elbow Room. “You wouldn’t remember it. They torn down what was left of it after the fire ten years later. Anyway, we got another call one night that there was gambling going on over there. A bunch of black males were having a crap game in one of the back rooms. These were mainly guys who worked in the foundry down the street from the bar.

  We got a call that there had been a man stabbed in the bar so we went over and met with one of the guys from the bar. The guy had gotten into a fight with another gambler and had been stabbed in his back right next to his spine. The guy who stabbed him pulled the knife around from the back and around to the front, all along his rib cage and just about to the center of the abdomen. That poor guy was just about cut in half on one side.”

  Gloria winced a little at the thought but then straightened up again. “Sorry,” she said. “Go on with your story, Joe.”

  Joe took another sip from his beer and said, “We got the victim in the ambulance and got him down to the emergency room. He worked in the factory and he had a short sleeved sweater on and a shirt and a T-shirt and they were just full of the foundry dust. Jerry and I stayed with the stretcher all the way to the emergency room. The nurse was taking the victim’s clothes off of him and the doctor started working on him. The wounds was covered with foundry dust. The doctor turned and said to me, ‘If this guy doesn’t get infection, nobody will.’ The guy made it, he didn’t die.”

  “And you or I could cut our finger on a rusty can and we’d end up with lockjaw,” I said.

  “Isn’t that always the way?” Joe said.

  “How long were you with the department?” Gloria said.

  “Just thirty years,” Joe said. “I could have put in my twenty and pulled the plug, but I was enjoying the job way too much to give it up. The day after I reached my thirty years, I decided that I’d had enough and wanted to coast through the rest of my life. Well, let me tell you, it’s a safe ride, but it’s boring as all hell. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss the adrenaline rush that job gave me.”

  “But now you have the time to do all those things that your job wouldn’t let you,” I said. “Get out there and see the world, experience new things, meet new people and all that.”

  “I hate to travel,” Joe said. “I like the familiarity of my daily routine and I’m not that much of a people person. That is, I don’t like meeting new people. I’m comfortable with my small, familiar circle of friends.”

  “But we’re new,” Gloria said. “And it doesn’t look like you had any trouble warming up to us.”

  “That’s different,” Joe said. “We have mutual acquaintances, so it’s not like you two were total strangers that I just walked up to on the street. If my wife were still alive, she’d be the first to tell you that I always hated going to parties where I didn’t know anyone and she did. I’d always keep to myself and Alice, that was my wife’s name, Alice told me that her friends thought I didn’t like them because I always kept to myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them, I just didn’t want to expend the energy getting to know them.”

  The phone on my desk rang and I rolled my chair over and picked up the phone. It was Lieutenant Eric Anderson and he was asking for Joe. I turned toward Joe. “It’s for you.” I held the phone out and waited as Joe rocked back and then kicked one leg out to clear the sofa.

  “This is Joe Stein,” he said.

  “J
oe, it’s Eric. I hate to ask you, but could you come down to the precinct for a minute?”

  “Sure, Eric,” Joe said. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s nothing wrong, Joe,” Eric said. “I just need your expertise on something that came up and yours was the first name that came to mind. It shouldn’t take long but it’s one of those things that requires your presence here.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes,” Joe said and hung up. He turned to me. “Sorry, Elliott,” Joe said. “But duty calls. Can we finish this another time?”

  “Whenever you say, Joe,” I told him. “Call me when you’re free again.”

  “I will,” Joe said and quickly left the office.

  “Wonder what that was all about,” Gloria said.

  “I don’t know,” I told her, “but did you see his face light up when Eric told him he needed to see him? I can see how important it is to be needed, by anyone for any reason.” I bent down and retrieved my digital recorder and switched it off. I transferred today’s storytelling session to a directory on my desktop computer and labeled it with today’s date. I deleted the file from the recorder and dropped it back into my pocket.

  The weekend came and went and Monday found Gloria and me back in the office. It was a slow morning with nothing more than some old case histories that needed to be entered into our client database. We ordered in for lunch and had a pizza delivered. It was just noon and I didn’t have to be in Mrs. Lawrence’s classroom for another hour and twenty minutes. Hollywood High School was just seven or eight blocks away on Sunset. I could make it there in ten minutes but decided to leave at one o’clock in case parking spaces were scarce. That still gave me an hour to think about what I was going to say to twenty teenage kids about writing.

  “Did you rehearse what you’re going to say today, Elliott?” Gloria said.

  I shook my head. “It’s bad enough I have to speak today,” I said. “I didn’t want to have to try to memorize anything as well. I’ll just wing it and when I run out of things to say, well, then I guess I’m done.”