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

by Bill Bernico

  After just one bite of his chicken, Burt closed his eyes and moaned, “Mmmm, that is thee best chicken anywhere, I swear, Rose.”

  Aunt Rose blushed and managed a polite, “Thank you.”

  Between bites and between small talk Eddie managed to swing the conversation around to Burt’s job. “Tell me, Burt,” Eddie said. “How hard is it to get a job with the Los Angeles Police Department?”

  “Why do you ask, Eddie?” Burt said.

  Eddie shat a glance at his uncle and then at Burt. “Because,” he said, “I thought I might like to give it a try. It looks like fascinating work.”

  “Really?” Burt said. “You think handing out citations is fascinating work?”

  “Come on,” Eddie said, “There has to be more to it than that? What about chasing down criminals and solving crimes?”

  “There is that aspect of the job,” Burt said. “If you’re serious about wanting to join the department, why don’t you stop down tomorrow morning and fill out an application? If you like I can put in a word for you with the personnel department.”

  Eddie smiled. “That would be great,” he said. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Burt said. “After you’ve been on the job a while you may just wonder what it is that you got yourself into.”

  After dinner that night, while Aunt Rose was clearing the table, Burt and Uncle Bob and Eddie sat in the living room talking about the latest news from back East. “Have you heard about John Dillinger?” Burt said.

  “No, what?” Eddie said.

  “They got him last night in Chicago,” Burt said.

  “They?” Uncle Bob said.

  “The feds,” Burt said. “They caught up with him just as he was coming out of the Biograph Theater over on Lincoln Avenue. I heard he had just watched some Clark Gable movie. Manhattan something or other.”

  “Manhattan Melodrama?” Uncle Bob said.

  “Yes,” Burt said. “I believe that was the one.”

  “No kidding,” Uncle Bob said. “That’s showing at my theater tonight, too.”

  “Some FBI agent named Purvis said Dillinger attempted to pull a gun from his waistband and agents shot him just as he reached the alley,” Burt explained.

  “Wow,” Eddie said. “Now see, that’s what I call exciting police work.”

  “That was the FBI,” Burt said, “Not the police. I’m afraid our daily routine isn’t nearly as exciting as that.”

  “Still,” Eddie said. “I think that kind of work would be right up my alley. No pun intended. I will definitely put in my application and thanks for offering to put in a word for me.” He turned to his uncle. “And thank you, Uncle Bob.”

  “For what,” Uncle Bob said.

  “For having a broken taillight,” Eddie said. “Otherwise I might never have met Burt and gotten the itch to be a cop.”

  “Glad to be able to do my part,” Uncle Bob said.

  By the time Burt left that night Eddie was so excited by my prospects that he could hardly sleep. The next morning was Wednesday and Eddie made sure that he was at the police station bright and early. He met with the personnel manager, a man named Curtis Higgins, who invited Eddie into his office to go over his application.

  “I see by your application that you have no experience in law enforcement, Mr. Heller,” Higgins said.

  “I, uh,” Eddie stammered, not sure how to respond.

  Higgins held up a hand. “Not to worry,” he said. “Some of our best police officers had no background in law. In fact, in some cases they worked out better than transfers from other police departments since they had no bad habits to unlearn, so to speak. I also see a recommendation here from Officer Sullivan. He’s one of our finer examples of what a policeman should be.” Higgins flipped the first page of my application over and glanced at the second page. “I see you’ve been employed by Robert Baldwin for almost three years. Tell me a little about that experience, if you would.”

  “Well,” Eddie said, “I got into town just after my twenty-first birthday and was met at the train by my Uncle Bob and Aunt Rose. Uncle Bob is the owner of the theater and he needed help setting up displays, cleaning up after shows and sometimes running the projector. At times I even managed the theater when Uncle Bob was away on business.”

  “And why would you want to leave a stable position like that to come and work here?” Higgins said.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Eddie said. “I’m grateful to my uncle for the job, which I realize is hard to come by these days. And I like the job, but I don’t see it as a lifetime career. On the other hand, I could see being a policeman as something I could eventually retire from. It seems like the kind of job I could really sink my teeth into and make a difference. In short, Mr. Higgins, it seems like I’d be doing something important with my life.”

  “Would you have any problem working odd hours, Mr. Heller?” Higgins said. “Because if you’re hired, chances are you’d have to work third shirt for a year or more before you’d be eligible for a transfer to second shift. Another year on second shift and you’d be eligible for first shift.”

  “It wouldn’t matter to me,” Eddie said. “As long as I could advance up the ranks and improve my position. Sure, those other shifts wouldn’t be a problem, Mr. Higgins.”

  “Thank you for your candor,” Higgins said. “I have your number and someone may be calling you.”

  Eddie rose from his chair, extended his hand to Mr. Higgins and shook it, nodding politely. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Higgins. I hope to see you again soon.” Eddie turned and left the room, feeling like he’d made a good first impression.

  Two weeks passed without a word from Mr. Higgins and Eddie began to wonder if he’d blown the interview. He drove to the precinct early on a Friday morning to try to catch up with Burt Sullivan before he left on his patrol. Eddie caught him coming out the back door, heading for his patrol car. Burt caught Eddie’s eye and smiled.

  “Eddie,” Burt said. “What brings you down here so early?”

  Eddie shook Burt’s hand and then slipped both his hands into his back pockets. “I applied for the job here more than two weeks ago and I still haven’t heard from Mr. Higgins yet. I was just wondering if you’d heard anything.”

  Burt’s face fell. “Oh Eddie,” he said, “I guess you hadn’t heard. Curtis Higgins died of a heart attack more than a week ago. They’re still looking for a replacement for him in personnel. I’ll bet that’s why you haven’t heard back from anyone yet. That department is in chaos and probably will be for a while yet.”

  “Burt,” Eddie said. “Would a job in personnel be a stepping stone to becoming an officer?”

  Burt thought about it for a moment. “Why?” he said. “Do you have any experience working in personnel?”

  “Over the past three years,” Eddie said, “I’ve had occasion to hire and fire a few workers at Uncle Bob’s theater. This can’t be much different.”

  Burt pulled a business card from his pocket and wrote a name on the back of it. He handed the card to Eddie. “Go and see Marge Spencer,” Burt said. “She’s acting personnel manager for now. Just let her know I sent you and that you’d be interested in the position.”

  “Wouldn’t she be more qualified for that position?” Eddie said.

  “Yes she would,” Burt said, “But she’s only a year and a half away from retirement herself. Besides, she never wanted that job. It would put too much of a strain on an older lady like that. Go on, go see Marge and let me know how it goes.”

  Eddie slip the card in his shirt pocket and smiled. “I sure will,” he said. “Thanks again, Burt.” He hurried back into the building and stopped at the front desk. The same sergeant he’d met when he first came back to see Burt with his repair receipt was sitting behind the desk.

  “Well, hello again,” the sergeant said. “What brings you back this time?”

  Eddie pulled the card from his pocket and read the name on the back. “Could you tell me where I could fi
nd Marge Spencer, please?”

  “Sure,” the sergeant said, pointing down the hall. “See that second door over there? Just knock and let yourself in. That’s Marge’s office.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Eddie said, and turned toward Marge’s door. He paused momentarily and then knocked before turning the door knob and letting himself in the room. He saw an older woman sitting behind a desk on the other side of a partition. “Excuse me,” Eddie said. “But I’m looking for Marge Spencer.”

  Marge looked up from her paperwork. “I’m Marge,” she said.

  “No,” Eddie said. “The woman I’m looking for would be older.” He knew how to flatter and turn on the charm when the situation called for it.

  Marge pushed up at the back of her hair and almost blushed. “Well, aren’t you sweet?” she said. “Come in, come in. What can I do for you?”

  Eddie handed Marge Burt’s card with her name on it. “My name is Edward Heller,” Eddie said. “Officer Sullivan told me I should come and see you about the personnel manager position.” He didn’t want to overplay his hand and just waited for Marge to respond.

  Marge looked at the card, turned it over and then looked up at Eddie. “You?” she said. “You want to be a personnel manager?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?” Eddie said.

  “Well,” Marge told him, gesturing for Eddie to have a seat, “pardon my saying so, but you look more like you’d fit in better as a police officer than a pencil jockey.”

  Eddie sat across from the woman and sighed. “Actually,” he said, “that was the position I originally applied for, but Burt told me about poor Mr. Higgins and why I never got a call back about my application.”

  “Poor Mr. Higgins, as you call him, brought on that heart attack by living for this job,” Marge said. “He never took time off to relax and enjoy life. That’s what killed him. You don’t want that. Wait a minute; let me find your application.” She turned in her swivel chair and pulled open a drawer in the filing cabinet, fingering through the papers. She pulled out Eddie’s application and quickly looked it over. She turned her attentions back to Eddie. “Wouldn’t you rather be a police officer?”

  Eddie smiled. “You bet I would,” he said. “Is that something you can decide?”

  “Well, let me see,” Marge said. “I’m acting personnel manager for now, so I guess I can. When can you start?”

  “You mean I have the job?” Eddie said.

  “Well,” Marge said, “not right away. You’d have to spend the next thirty days at the police academy, getting your orientation and training on the firing range. And then there’s practical application class. You’ll need to know the basics of law if you expect to enforce it. But, yeah, I’d say after that you could count on joining us here at the Los Angeles Police Department.”

  Eddie’s smile turned into a full-blown grin. He stood and reached out to Marge. She shook his hand and smiled back at him. “Thanks you so much, Marge,” Eddie said. “Do I need some kind of form to get into the academy?”

  “Better calm down before that smile becomes permanent on your face,” Marge said. She pulled some forms from another drawer and handed them to Eddie. “Fill these all out and report tomorrow morning at the academy. It’s on…”

  “I know where it is,” Eddie said. “I drive right by it almost every day on my way to work. Boy, just wait until I tell Uncle Bob about this. Thanks again, Marge.” Eddie left the office and hurried back out to his car. He drove straight to the theater and found his uncle in the projection booth setting up a reel on the projector.

  “Uncle Bob,” Eddie said excitedly. “Wait ‘til you hear.”

  “Hear what?” Uncle Bob said.

  Eddie waved his papers in front of him. “They accepted me at the police department. I’m in.”

  Bob finished threading the projector and then wiped his hand on a towel before extending it to Eddie. “That’s great,” he said. “Although I’m going to be losing my most valuable employee. You’re going to be hard to replace, Eddie.”

  “Aw, go on,” Eddie said. “Stewart can do almost everything that I can. Why not give him a chance to move up the ranks a little?”

  Bob’s eyebrows raised. “I suppose,” he said. “But it won’t be the same around here without you.”

  “I have to fill out these forms,” Eddie said. “They want me to report to the academy tomorrow morning already.”

  Bob pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to Eddie. “Well, then,” he said, “Better not keep them waiting. Go on, use my office.”

  Eddie hugged his uncle. “Thanks, Uncle Bob,” he said. “You’ve been good to me these past three years and I won’t forget it.” He turned and walked toward Bob’s office.

  The following morning bright and early, Eddie drove his regular route toward the theater, which always lead him past the police training academy. Eddie parked in the lot and found the main office with no trouble. He turned in his papers and was issued a pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt, along with a pair of sneakers and a locker key.

  “Do I get a uniform, too?” Eddie said.

  The man behind the supply table grinned. He’d heard this more than once before and had almost expected it. “That comes later,” he said. “For now, you just get dressed and then go find Sergeant Healy. He’ll tell you what to do next.”

  Eddie followed the signposts that had been scattered around the compound and found the locker room right away. Several other cadets were already there, changing into their sweats when Eddie walked in. Some of the cadets ignored him, some nodded politely, and one even spoke to him.

  “Hi,” the cadet said. “First day here?”

  “Uh huh,” Eddie said, looking at his locker key. “Locker ninety-eight?”

  The cadet hiked a thumb over his shoulder at a row of lockers. “Third from the end,” he said. “Go on, get dressed. I’ll wait for you and we can go out onto the field together.”

  “Thanks,” Eddie said. “Oh, by the way, my name is Eddie Heller. What’s yours?”

  “Nice to meet you, Eddie,” the cadet said. “Barney Foster.”

  “Barney?” Eddie said, shaking Foster’s hand.

  “Bernard, actually,” Foster said. “But everybody calls me Barney. And you? Is it Edmund, Edward, Edwin?”

  “Edward,” Eddie explained. “I was never that formal, either. I prefer Eddie.”

  “Then Eddie it is,” Foster said. “Come on, we’d better get out on the field before Sarge has us doing extra laps.”

  Eddie and Barney ran out to the field and fell into line with the rest of the cadets. Their drill sergeant was a no-nonsense man named Mel Baxter. He put Eddie and the other cadets through their paces for the next four hours before dismissing them for lunch. Eddie and Barney made their way through the lunch line, got their meals and sat at one of the tables. Barney started right in with his lunch. Eddie was too drained to lift his fork.

  “Is every day this hard?” Eddie said.

  “It’ll get easier,” Barney said. “Unless it kills you first.” He pointed at Eddie’s lunch tray. “You going to eat that?”

  Eddie pulled his tray toward himself, protecting his food. He took a few bites and then turned to Barney. “What’s the story with Sergeant Baxter?” he said.

  “Melvin?” Barney said. “He’s a hard-nosed lifer,” he said. “He spent so much time in the army that he doesn’t know any other way of life.”

  “Melvin,” Eddie said. “That’s rich.”

  “That’s Mel to you,” Barney said. “He hates Melvin. Better yet, you’d better stick with Sergeant Baxter if you know what’s good for you.”

  Eddie and Barney finished their lunch in ten minutes. Barney got up from the table, picked up his tray and gestured to Eddie with his chin. “Come on,” he said. “We still have twenty minutes to rest before Sarge will have us back at it again. Barney led Eddie outside again and to a spot under a large oak tree. The two of them sat in the summer shade taking in their surrounding
s.

  The second week into his academy training, Eddie was finally issued a blue uniform and a sidearm with a holster. It was the standard .38 police special and it immediately felt like an extension of Eddie’s right hand. He did better than all right on the target range, too. His scores were among the top three in his class. In hand-to-hand combat, Eddie was able to hold his own with guys taller and heavier than he. The part of all this training that Eddie liked the least was the book learning concerning the law and its applications in the field. Barney helped him with that part, since it seemed to come easier to Barney than it did to Eddie.

  Thirty days after he’d started his training, Eddie Heller graduated and returned to the precinct for his first assignment. Barney had been assigned to the same precinct but had been partnered with a veteran that Eddie didn’t know. Eddie drew Tim Blair, a patrolman with eight years behind him. Blair was a sergeant whose waistline exceeded his inseam by a good ten inches.

  As they headed out to the patrol car for Eddie’s first night on the job, Sergeant Blair gestured toward the trunk of their cruiser. “Stow some of that gear in the trunk and bring the shotgun up front with you,” Blair said.

  “Yes, sir,” Eddie sat, eager to please his mentor. He slid in beneath the wheel and started the car.

  Sergeant Blair walked around to the driver’s side window and leaned in, his face just inches from Eddie’s. “Where do you think you’re going?” Blair said in his gruff voice.

  “On patrol?” Eddie said, more in the form of a question.

  “Not from this side of the car,” Blair barked. “Slide over.”

  Eddie slid into the passenger side seat, maneuvering his legs past the mounted shotgun and two-way radio.

  Blair slid beneath the wheel, stepped on the clutch and pulled the shifter down into first gear. He turned to his new partner and said, “First you crawl, and then you walk and if you make it through your probation, you might even get to run. But for now, just sit there, observe and learn. Got it?”