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

by Bill Bernico

  “Huh?”

  “LOL,” Elliott repeated. “I was checking out the online newspaper story about the killings in MacArthur Park last night and there was a space at the bottom for comments from the readers.”

  “And?”

  “And after three or four comments about those two punks being dead, one reader commented, ‘LOL’ and I wondered what that meant.”

  “It’s computer shorthand for Laughing Out Loud,” Matt explained. “But I can’t imagine Lieutenant Anderson giving that to the press. They always hold back some important piece of evidence.”

  “What are you talking about, Matt?”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Shit,” he said. “I don’t think Eric wanted me to let that out yet.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elliott said.

  Matt explained what Eric had told him about the letters written on the sidewalk in blood. “Personally, I find it more than a little annoying when everyone and their frickin’ brother uses those three letters for anything they think is even remotely humorous. Hell, people don’t actually say, ‘I’m laughing out loud’ in real life over stupid comments. They may groan or roll their eyes, but laugh out loud? I don’t think so.”

  “Then why don’t they just say they’re laughing out loud?” Elliott asked.

  Matt sighed. “Because the kinds of airheads who use that abbreviation are usually texting it from some hand-held unit and it’s faster and easier to tap in those three letters than the three words. But you notice no one ever says ‘LOL’ in person.” Matt thought about that for a moment and then amended that to, “Well, no sane person, anyway.”

  “I don’t understand this whole generation’s obsession with texting,” Elliott said. “As long as they have the phone in their hand, why don’t they just punch in the phone number and actually talk to the person they were texting?”

  Matt spread his hands, shrugged and bent down to take a closer look at the laptop’s screen, reading the article about the two dead muggers. When he finished reading the article he stood up again and looked at his dad. “LOL,” he said and then added, “There, now you can’t say you’ve never heard anyone use it in person. Personally, I find that hilarious that those two lowlifes got what was coming to them. Maybe if more of their friends read this, they won’t be so quick to try to mug anyone, either.”

  “That would make a few little old ladies feel more secure, wouldn’t it?” Elliott said. “So, where are you going to start with this Thomas tail job?”

  Matt didn’t answer, but just stared out the window at the pedestrian traffic on Hollywood Boulevard. A second later he turned back toward his father and said, “What did you just say?”

  Elliott looked puzzled. “I said, so, where are you going to start with this Thomas tail job?”

  “No, before that.”

  “Huh?”

  “You said something about little old ladies feeling more secure, or something,” Matt said.

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “LOL,” Matt said.

  “Again?” Elliott said. “Come on, you’ve already run the course with that lame joke.”

  “No,” Matt said. “LOL—Little Old Lady. Maybe that’s what someone was referring to in the newspaper comments. And maybe that’s what the victim was trying to say in his blood. You think maybe some little old lady was packing heat and blasted these two nitwits?”

  “A little old lady alone in MacArthur Park at midnight?” Elliott said, looking at Matt from the corners of his eyes. “How likely is that?”

  “Yeah,” Matt agreed. “Now that I actually hear myself say it, it does sound kind of far-fetched. But then that’s not our problem. Let Eric work it out for himself. I’ve got more important things to do than to worry about two dead muggers. Speaking of which, I’d better get out there and start earning my pay, as meager as it may be. I’ll see you later, Dad.”

  Matt left the office again and Elliott turned his laptop back to face him. He scrolled down the page, trying to read all he could about the MacArthur Park slayings.

  *****

  Claire read the article in the Los Angeles Times and actually did laugh out loud, though she’d never really use the three letters in any kind of communication to another person. She laid the paper down, realizing that her timetable had been delayed by those two idiots in the park. She needed to get back on track and take care of Alex Brendel, collect her unusually high fee and move on.

  Claire put together another original disguise and packed it in her shopping bag, along with a dark brown wig and some extra body padding. She’d wear her Beatrice disguise out of the house, as usual, so the neighbors would see a familiar character leaving and returning once the job was done. Afterwards, she’d dispose of the brown wig and second disguise in her fireplace. Tomorrow she could go to her new post office box and collect her pay and then take another month off.

  She didn’t leave the house for the rest of the day and when eleven p.m. rolled around, Claire, now dressed as Beatrice, walked out of the house and down to the corner to flag down a cab. She’d have the cabby drop her off two blocks away from MacArthur Park this time so as not to attract any undue attention to herself. She’d pretend to be going to visit someone in the neighborhood and as soon as the cabby pulled away from the curb, she’d walk the other two blocks to the park.

  Beatrice didn’t have to wait long once she got onto Sunset Boulevard. She hailed a cab, slid into the back seat and told the driver to take her to Sixth and Coronado. The cabby nodded and mumbled something before jotting the address down on his clipboard, slipping the pencil behind his ear and pulling out into traffic. Beatrice sat back against the seat and sighed, feeling the .32 with the suppressor under her pile of clothes in the shopping bag. She felt the security of the pearl handle, looked at the back of the driver’s head and thought how easy it would be to kill him and take his cab. She had no intention of doing that, but the thought popped into her head nonetheless.

  Twelve minutes later the cab pulled up to the corner of Sixth and Coronado. The cabby dropped his flag, checked the meter, pulled the pencil from on top of his ear and picked up his clipboard. He turned to Beatrice, said, “Nine twenty-five,” and wrote the figure on his clipboard.

  Beatrice gave the cabby a ten dollar bill and told him to keep the change. He looked at the ten spot and then back at Beatrice. “Gee, thanks, lady,” a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

  “You’re welcome, young man,” Beatrice said in her old lady voice, and then slid out of the back seat. The cab was already in motion even before the back door closed. She could hear the cabby talking to himself as he left.

  Beatrice crossed the street to an all-night Laundromat and stepped inside. There were no customers, which didn’t surprise her considering the time of day. This was perfect. She stepped into the ladies’ room and slipped out of her Beatrice disguise, dropping these clothes into the shopping bag and dressing in her secondary disguise. When she’d finished, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, adjusted the brown wig and shifted the body padding under her dress. Her low neck sweater and push-up bra gave her plenty of cleavage and now she looked more like a middle-aged woman on the prowl.

  She found a cold air return vent, pulled a dime from her pocket, unscrewed the two screws that held it in place and removed the grate. She stuffed her shopping bag and her Beatrice persona into the vent and replaced the grate, turning the screws back in with the dime. The main room was still vacant as she exited to the parking lot in her disguise, carrying a small purse just big enough to hold her silenced .32 with the pearl handles and began walking toward MacArthur Park just two blocks away.

  Now presenting herself as this new character, Claire entered the park at the northwest corner and walked past the tennis courts, stopping when she came to a fork on the asphalt path. She veered right and continued toward a cluster of picnic tables and chairs. There were two or three younger couples sitting around, talking and laughing. Every now and then one of them would lift a brown pa
per bag to their lips, take a drink and then pass the bag to the person closest to them.

  Claire walked past the couples and continued toward the opposite corner of the park, where she knew from past surveillance that Alex Brendel would be at this time of night. As she glanced at the blacktop path that entered the park from the corner, she spotted Brendel coming her way. She put a little sway in her step and licked her lips before continuing toward Brendel. When she got close enough to the man, she bumped shoulders with him and dropped the small purse she was carrying. She quickly bent to pick it up, making sure to bend toward Brendel and give him a perfect view of her cleavage.

  Claire stood up again to see Brendel holding up both palms toward her. “I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Claire said, smiling a coy smile and laying her hand on Brendel’s forearm. “I think I’ve seen you in the park before, haven’t I?”

  Brendel shrugged. “I don’t know, have you?”

  “I wouldn’t forget a handsome face like that,” Claire said, batting her eyelashes. She though she saw Brendel blush. “Where are you headed?”

  “No place in particular,” Brendel said. “I’m just out getting some night air. And you?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Claire explained. “I find a walk in the park makes me tired and helps me to get to sleep.” She gestured toward a spot around a large bush, out of the line of sight of the three young couples sitting around the picnic tables. “It’s a little crowded around here, if you know what I mean. How about if we take a walk where it’s a little more private?”

  Brendel snuck another quick peek at the cleavage that seemed to be calling out to him and said, “Sure. Where’d you wanna go?”

  Claire took Brendel’s hand and led him to the private area behind the large bush and then stopped. She faced Brendel and pulled her arms inward toward her body, squeezing her breasts together and causing the cleavage to rise to her neck. Brendel’s hand reached out toward Claire as she dug into her purse and wrapped her fingers around the butt of the .32. Before Brendel’s hand got within an inch of Claire’s body, she stuck the barrel of her handgun up under Brendel’s ribs and pulled the trigger twice. The two muffled reports had gone unnoticed and he dropped like a rock.

  Claire pulled Brendel’s wallet from his hip pocket, emptied it of any cash and credit cards, wiped the wallet down again and tossed it on top of Brendel’s body. By the time Brendel’s body was discovered, Claire would be blocks away from the park and this would look like just another mugging gone bad. She stuffed the .32 back into her purse and walked briskly toward Alvarado Street and then right onto Seventh. It took her just a few minutes to make it back to the Laundromat. A few more minutes after that and Claire emerged again as Beatrice and shuffled off down the street in search of another cab. Within twenty-four hours she could retrieve her payment from the post office box and shed herself of this persona and the post office box and fade once again into obscurity.

  *****

  Gloria and Olivia left the shoe store with the low black pumps Olivia needed to go with her graduation gown. They climbed into Gloria’s car and headed toward Elliott’s office.

  “Why are we going to see Dad?” Olivia said.

  “I just want to give him what’s left of his eighty dollars,” Gloria explained.

  “Why? It’s just six dollars and some change.”

  Gloria smiled at Olivia’s naiveté. “Next time I need a few dollars, your father will remember this little gesture and will be less likely to give me a hard time about it. You have a few things to learn about the male of the species, dear.”

  “I guess so,” Olivia agreed.

  “Are you and Tom going to the graduation together?” Gloria asked, referring to Tom Bowers, Olivia’s current boyfriend and classmate.

  “Yes,” Olivia said. “He’s taking me out to dinner afterwards and I thought we could take in a movie after that.”

  “Are you two getting serious?”

  “Mom,” Olivia said. “It’s just a date. Neither of us is ready to get serious about anything yet. I still have college next fall and Tom’s going away to the University of Wisconsin in Madison. It would be kind of hard to carry on any kind of relationship with twenty-two hundred miles between us.”

  “Wisconsin?” Gloria said, somewhat surprised. “What’s wrong with U.C.L.A. or any other college around here for that matter?”

  “His family is from Wisconsin,” Olivia explained. “His father and grandfather both attended UW Madison and he wants to keep the tradition going by taking the criminal justice courses they offer.”

  “Is he planning on going into law when he graduates?” Gloria said.

  “That’s what I thought, Mom. But I told him I couldn’t picture him being a lawyer and he said his eventual goal was to learn what he could and come back her to take his place on the police department.”

  “Sounds like a guy who knows what he wants to do with his life,” Gloria said.

  “He does,” Olivia said. “And if that includes me somewhere down the line, so much the better, but I’m not going to stand in his way. If it’s meant to be, it will be. If not, well, then I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what hand life deals me.”

  “Are you still planning to go into nursing when you get to college?” Gloria said.

  Olivia smiled broadly. “I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. I’ve wanted to be a nurse as far back as I can remember.”

  “I remember, too,” Gloria said, recalling Olivia’s passion when she was just six years old. “You had bandages on all of your dolls and some of your stuffed animals. I used to watch you playing in the back yard or in your room and you seemed so intent on healing your toys’ broken arms and legs. I’m sure you’ll make a great nurse someday.” Gloria laid one hand on Olivia’s knee and patted it.

  Elliott looked surprised to see Gloria and Olivia back in his office so soon. “Forget something?” he said.

  Gloria reached into her purse and withdrew six dollars and fifty cents and handed it to Elliott.

  “What’s this for?” Elliott said.

  “It’s your change,” Gloria explained. “We managed to pick out a less expensive pair of shoes and still had enough left to pick up the cap and gown and that’s your change.”

  Elliott looked surprised but stuffed the money into his pants pocket. “Thanks,” he said and then looked over at Olivia. “Are you getting nervous about next weekend?”

  “Nervous?” Olivia said. “What’s there to be nervous about? It’s just graduation.”

  “I mean about giving your speech,” Elliott explained.

  Olivia waved him off. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ll just be talking to my classmates.”

  “And their families,” Elliott said.

  Olivia thought about it for a moment and her face dropped. Elliott quickly added, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Sweetie,” and laid his hand on her shoulder.

  “I hope so,” Olivia said.

  Gloria grabbed Olivia by the arm and turned her around. “We’ll see you tonight,” she told Elliott and pulled Olivia from the room.

  Elliott slapped himself in the forehead after they’d gone. “Idiot,” he told himself. “And their families? What’s wrong with you, Elliott?”

  *****

  Matt pulled his car around the corner from the Thomas campaign headquarters and got out. Thomas had no idea what Matt looked like or that he was supposed to watch him, so as far as Thomas was concerned, Matt could be just another guy stopping in for some campaign literature. He pulled the front door open and stepped inside, stopping just inside the door to look around. There were several people on the bank of phones busy talking to prospective contributors. On the other side of the room sat a long table with bumper stickers, pamphlets, buttons and other Thomas-related items.

  A woman approached Matt and said, “Hello there, is there something I ca
n help you with?”

  “Just looking,” Matt said. “I thought I might just pick up one or two brochures and take them with me.”

  “Certainly,” the woman said spreading one arm wide with her palm up, like some model on a game show showing off a new living room set. “Help yourself to anything you like.”

  “Thank you,” Matt said, stepping over to the table. Hanging on the wall over the table was a huge three foot by five foot picture of William Thomas, who Matt decided looked nothing like Buckwheat. He studied the face for a few seconds before a door at the back of the room opened and Thomas himself stepped out, his arm draped over the shoulder of a man in a three-piece business suit. Thomas had that typical insincere, glad-handing politician’s look on his face, trying to convince the other man that his campaign contributions would be money well spent.

  The businessman finished his conversation with Thomas and exited through the double glass doors to the sidewalk. Thomas turned to the woman who had greeted Matt and said, “If Wayne calls, please tell him he can reach me on my cell phone. I have to meet Jack over at the coffee shop on Melrose. You know the one.”

  The woman nodded. “Certainly, Mr. Thomas,” she said. “That would be The Plaid Rabbit on the corner of Melrose and Cherokee. I’ll tell him.”

  “Better yet,” Thomas said, “Just tell him to meet us there. I’ll get started filling Jack in on what I need while we wait for him.”

  “I’ll tell him, Mr. Thomas,” the woman said, writing something on a clipboard.

  Matt didn’t wait for Thomas to leave. He knew where he could find him and decided to get there first, just another customer in the coffee shop. Matt hurried back out to his car and headed south to Melrose Avenue. Fifteen minutes later he parked down the block from the coffee shop and went in to wait for Thomas’s arrival. Matt stood at the counter, his elbows resting on the surface, waiting for his coffee so that he could carry it over to someplace within earshot of where Thomas would be sitting.