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

by Bill Bernico

  Elliott shook his head. “I’m still checking the rest of the bedroom. How about you?”

  “Nothing yet,” Eric said. “Even the medicine in the cabinet is generic. There’s got to be something here to identify her.”

  In a second bedroom at the end of the hall, Elliott spotted a small brown purse sitting on the bed. He opened it and found a hairbrush, compact case, lipstick and a wallet. He opened the wallet and checked the driver’s license. It showed a gray-haired woman of sixty-eight, according to the birth date listed. The name on it read Beatrice O’Malley with this address.

  Elliott brought the wallet out to the living room where Eric stood, reaching up onto a China cabinet. When his hand came back down, it was holding another wallet. Eric opened that wallet and stepped over next to Elliott. They held their respective wallets side by side, looking at the photos.

  “Beatrice O’Malley,” Elliott said.

  “Claire Addison,” Eric added. “One and the same person. I’ve got to call this in and get a photographer over here as well. I’ll want photos of that woman lying on the floor just the way she looks now. After we get her to the morgue and get all that makeup off her I’ll want another set of photos. Chances are they’ll match this photo.”

  “You have to admit, Eric,” Elliott said. “She had an almost foolproof disguise going on here. No one would ever suspect an old woman who looked like this to be a hired assassin.” He held the wallet photo out in front of him. “She could walk right past any stakeout or road block and no one would think twice about her.”

  “They’ll give her second thoughts now,” Eric said. “And you can bet we’ll be able to close quite a few of the unsolved cases we’re sitting on. Those MacArthur Park slaying have to be her handiwork. They have her signature all over them.”

  Eric set the wallet and the notebook on the dining room table next to the cookie jar. Elliott laid the shoe box and the second wallet next to them as Eric picked up the phone and dialed the twelfth precinct. Ten minutes later two black and white patrol cars pulled up in front of the house on Las Palmas. Behind them was the coroner’s wagon, followed by a third vehicle that was labeled Crime Lab on the door. All the vehicle’s occupants walked up the walk and into the front door.

  Eric gestured to the photographer. “I want pictures of everything, especially the body. And give me some close-ups on her face. Get some shots of everything laid out on the table as well.

  “You got it,” the photographer said, starting with the body on the floor.

  Andy Reynolds, the county medical examiner stepped over to the body on the floor and went through the motions of checking for any signs of life before glancing at his wristwatch and declaring the woman dead as he wrote the time on his form. He stood, gestured at the bullet hole and turned to Elliott. “Your handiwork?”

  Elliott shook his head and hiked a thumb at Eric.

  Andy looked at Eric with a bit of surprise. “You shot the old lady?”

  Eric smiled. “You call thirty-one old?”

  Now Andy looked confused.

  “It’s all down with smoke and mirrors,” Eric said. “That’s no little old lady laying there. That’s a vicious killer, age thirty-one.”

  Andy turned, bent down and took a closer look at the face. He ran his finger across the woman’s forehead and the wrinkles rubbed off onto his fingertip. He turned and looked back up at Eric. “Now I can retire. I’ve seen it all.”

  Eric turned to the photographer. “You get everything?”

  The photographer nodded. I’m done, unless you want anything else.”

  “No, that should do it,” Eric said. “Thanks, Tim.”

  Eric picked up the notebook, both wallets, chicken cookie jar and the shoe box full of cash and headed for the door. Elliott looked at him sideways. “You are taking that to the precinct, aren’t you, Eric?”

  Eric made an exaggerated effort of looking at his watch. “I can still make the four-thirty flight to Rio.” He paused and waited for a reaction from Elliott. Elliott didn’t take the bait.

  “I’m coming with you,” Elliott said, following Eric out the door and out to one of the patrol cars. He set the contents of his arms on the rear passenger seat and turned to Elliott. “Would you tell Officer Morgan that I’m taking the car back to the twelfth?”

  “Sure, Eric,” Elliott said. “You will wait for me, won’t you?”

  Eric rolled his eyes and gestured toward the house with his head. “Go on, I’m not going anywhere.”

  By the time they got back to the twelfth precinct, members of the press had gotten wind of the afternoon’s events and were swarming the front stoop at the police station. Eric and Elliott edged their way past the reporters and walked inside, carrying with them nearly three hundred thousand dollars. Eric went directly to the captain’s office and walked in without knocking.

  “Lieutenant Anderson,” Captain Burke said, looking up. “What’s going on here?”

  Eric pulled the head off the chicken cookie jar and dumped its contents on the captain’s desk. He set the cookie jar down and dumped the contents of the shoe box next to the other pile of cash and looked at the captain for a reaction. The captain’s eyes got wide and he looked back up at Eric.

  “We got her,” Eric told the captain.

  “Her?” Burke said. “Who are we talking about?”

  “The shooter from the coffee shop on Melrose,” Eric explained. “She was a woman in her early thirties but she was dressed like Aunt Bee’s grandma. She’s the one who killed William Thomas and his two assistants. She’s also the one who shot Elliott’s son, Matt. She’s a paid assassin, Captain.” He handed Burke the notebook and pointed to the last entry with W.T. next to the amount. “Now all we have to do is find out who hired her for all these jobs.”

  Captain Burke gestured at the piles of wrapped bills on his desk. “Get this in the safe in the evidence room and have two other officers, besides you, count it and bring me the receipt.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eric said, scooping up the money and dropping it back into their respective containers.

  Captain Burke turned to Elliott. “How’s Matt doing, Elliott?”

  Elliott smiled. “He’s going to be all right. The .38 he was wearing under his arm saved his life. He’s going to need a new gun and a week or so of recuperating, but he’ll be fine.”

  “That great, Elliott,” Burke said. “Give him my best when you see him.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Elliott said. “I certainly will.”

  Elliott walked into Matt’s hospital room the next morning carrying a copy of the morning paper. Matt smiled when he saw his father coming. “Hi, Dad,” Matt said. “What do you have there?”

  Elliott opened the paper and held the headlines out for Matt to see. Across the top of the front page were three large letters that said, ‘LOL.’ Matt glanced at the headline and then back at Elliott.

  “Did the press find something particularly funny today?” Matt said, pointing at the three letter headline.

  “No,” Elliott said. “It’s the other LOL—Little Old Lady.” He told Matt about what had happened to Eric at Claire Addison’s house and briefly described the outcome. “Eric’s looking into those initials in the notebook. He’s already matched up seven of the twelve entries with unsolved cases. Of course those two yahoos from MacArthur Park won’t be listed there. They must have just gotten in her way while she was trying to fulfill some other contract.”

  “And what about Buckwheat?” Matt said. “Any leads on why he took one in the head?”

  “Nothing solid yet,” Elliott explained. “But Eric’s running down a lead on that one and he thinks it may lead back to Walker or at least to some of his men. I’d say that would pretty much finish Walker’s career.”

  “Did you find out when I can get out of here and go home?” Matt said.

  “I saw the doctor on my way in here this morning,” Elliott said. “He tells me you can go home later this afternoon but that you have to rest
for another week before you can even think about doing anything else.”

  “But I can still make it to Olivia’s graduation, can’t I?” Matt said.

  “I don’t see why not,” Elliott said. “She’ll be glad you’re coming, too.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Matt said. “Baby Olivia is finally all grown up. I guess she’ll be leaving home come the fall semester.”

  Elliott smiled and shook his head. “Nope, she’ll be with us for a while yet. She’s still planning on going to U.C.L.A. so she won’t have to leave us for a while yet.”

  “Still the baby of the family,” Matt said.

  “She’ll always be the baby,” Elliott said.

  “Unless you and mom…”

  “LOL,” Elliott said.

  126 - Re-Cooper-ation

  Gloria passed the potatoes to her daughter, Olivia, who passed them to Elliott. Elliott took a baked potato and passed the plate to his son, Matt. Matt had been spending the past few days with his parents, after having been shot in the chest while on the job as the fourth generation private eye in the business his great-grandfather, Matt had started after World War II.

  Gloria looked over at Matt and smiled. “So how are you feeling today, Matt?” she said. “Is the pain getting to be a little more manageable?

  Matt nodded. “Getting better every day,” he said. “It’s still a little sore around the ribs, but the bruising is getting lighter every day. I should be good as new in no time.”

  While staking out a man that his client had wanted him to tail, Matt had been shot by a hit man, or in this case, a hit woman, dressed as an old lady. Her shot had miraculously hit the cylinder of the .38 that had hung in the holster under Matt’s arm, saving his life. He came away from that ordeal with one cracked rib, severe bruising and a couple of superficial scratches from the bullet shards that ricocheted off Matt’s gun.

  Elliott turned to Matt. “Well just don’t try to exert yourself until the doctor signs off on you next week. No heavy lifting and don’t try to reach at odd angles. You don’t want to rip any stitches loose.”

  “You don’t have to remind me,” Matt told his father. “If I forget, the pain will let me know.”

  “Well, it’ll be good to have you back with me once you’re feeling better,” Elliott said.

  Gloria shot Elliott a quick look, but said nothing. Elliott already knew what those eyes were trying to tell him. He turned back toward Matt. “Matt,” he said between bites of food, “Your mother and I have been talking about this whole ordeal for the past couple of days and, well, uh…”

  Matt held up one hand. “I know what you’re going to say and I can save you both a little time and energy. I’m not quitting the P.I. business. I could just as easily get kicked in the head by a mule working on a farm, or get hit in the head with someone else’s shovel while digging ditches. Hell, I could slip and fall in the shower and break my neck, as far as that goes. It’s a risky business just living these days and besides, I love my job. If I can’t do what I love, then you might as well finish me off here and now. So, can we hear no more about all this quitting nonsense? I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions, and I’m staying. Would you pass the corn, please?”

  Elliott and Gloria exchanged looks again but knew it was useless to try to talk their son out of continuing his career as a private investigator alongside his father. Hell, Elliott had carved out his career working with his father, Clay and Clay had worked alongside his father, Matt. He was not about to break tradition just because of two nervous parents.

  Gloria sighed and gave Matt a warm look. “Just be extra careful, will you, Matt? You’re the only son we’ve got.”

  Matt smiled. “Don’t worry, Mom,” he said. “I will. No one wants me to stay alive more than I do.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the room for the next few moments before Olivia spoke up. “Not to try to change the subject,” she began and then reworded her statement. “Well, actually, I did want to change the subject and it looks like now is as good a time as any to bring it up.”

  “Oh my,” Gloria said. “Now what?”

  Olivia laid her fork down and frowned at her mother. “Mom,” she said. “Could you lighten up your mood a few notches? I have something I want to say and I don’t want you going into it with a negative attitude.”

  Gloria took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m sorry, Sweetie,” she said. “Go ahead and tell us what you wanted to say.”

  Olivia sat up straight in her chair and began, “As you know, I want to go into nursing when I get to college and while I am aware that UCLA and USC both have fine nursing programs, I did a little research and found out that UWM also has a top notch nursing degrees available.”

  “UWM?” Matt said.

  “University of Wisconsin, Madison,” Elliott said, knowing where Olivia was going with this. He turned to his daughter. “Are you trying to tell us that you’re considering going to college in Wisconsin?”

  Olivia nodded but added nothing extra.

  “Is it just a coincidence that Tom Bowers is also going to be attending UWM this fall?” Gloria said.

  “Mom,” Olivia started to say.

  Elliott interrupted. “I thought we had agreed that you’d go to college here in California. What’s changed since then?”

  Olivia was beginning to get upset and it showed in her voice and manners. “Tom and I talked about this,” she said. “We have something special and we don’t want to lose it. You should both be able to understand that. I’d still come home every summer and during the holidays. I don’t see what the big deal is. I’d be just as gone if I went to school right here. I’d probably be living on campus and you wouldn’t see much of me this way, either.”

  Gloria was getting upset. “Can we talk about this another time?”

  “We’ll talk about it now,” Olivia insisted. “I’m not changing my mind, so you might as well get used to the idea. I’m going to Wisconsin this fall and that’s all I have to say about it.” She shoved herself away from the table and stood. “May I be excused? I’m not hungry anymore.” She walked away without waiting for a response and retreated to her room, closing the door behind her.

  Gloria looked at Elliott. “Now what do we do?” she said.

  “What can we do?” Elliott answered.

  Matt spoke up. “Just leave her alone. This is something she has to work out for herself, kind of like when I told Dad that I didn’t want to finish college and go into law. Remember, when I quite the LAPD to join you in the business?”

  “That was different?” Elliott said.

  “How?” Matt said. “It was a major decision that I had to work out for myself. Well, Olivia has to work this one out on her own. If you push her, she’ll just resist even more and you could lose her altogether.”

  The three were silent momentarily when Elliott spoke up. “How’d you get so wise in just twenty-four years?”

  Matt shrugged. “Just from watching both of you, I guess.” He smiled and it seemed to lighten the mood around the table.

  Gloria got up from her place at the table, went to Olivia’s room and knocked on the door. Olivia let her in and Gloria closed the door behind her, sitting on Olivia’s bed. Several minutes later they both emerged and took their places at the table again. Olivia’s eyes seemed a little red, but both she and her mother were smiling now. Olivia had always been good at diffusing a tense mood.

  “Are we all right now?” Elliott said, looking at his daughter.

  Olivia nodded without looking up but it was Gloria who looked at Olivia and offered, “We’ve got it handled, don’t we, Dear?” She patted the top of Olivia’s hand and resumed eating.

  *****

  Eleven days later after Matt had been examined by the doctor and declared fit to return to work, he was sitting at his desk when Elliott walked in carrying a chocolate brown briefcase. Matt eyed the briefcase and then looked at Elliott. “Is that your new lunchbox or have you gone corporate on me? It’
s gonna be tough finding a thermos bottle to match.”

  “I found it on the elevator,” Elliott explained. “Someone’s probably looking for this. I thought I’d better bring it in here and see if there’s any way to identify its owner from the contents.”

  “You’re going to open someone else’s briefcase?” Matt said, his eyebrows turning upward.

  “How else am I supposed to find out whose it is?” Elliott said, setting the case on his desk. “There are no initials on the outside and no name tag. Maybe his or her name will be on some of the contents. Unless you have X-Ray vision, I don’t see that I have any other choice.”

  “I guess,” Matt said after a while. “Go ahead, open it.”

  Elliott pressed the two latches on either side of the handle but nothing happened. “Locked,” he said, stepping around to the other side of his desk and sliding open the middle drawer.

  “You’re not going to pry it open, are you?” Matt said. “You’ll break the locks.”

  Elliott fished around in the drawer and came out with a paper clip, unbending it and twisting it into a shape he could insert into the locks. “Not with this method,” he said and stuck the bent end of the paper clip into the lock. He twisted the clip back and forth a few times before he heard a click. Elliott withdrew the clip and slid the latch to the side. The lock popped open. “One down and one to go,” he said, inserting the homemade key into the second lock.

  Matt got out of his chair and came over to where Elliott was now working on the second lock. He watched intently as Elliott maneuvered the clip around inside the lock. “How’d you learn how to do this?” Matt said.

  “Years of practice,” Elliott explained. “It’s all part of the business.”

  “What business?” Matt said. “Safecracking 101? Burglary For Idiots? Dummies Guide to…”

  The second lock clicked and Elliott slid the latch to one side. It popped open and Elliott dropped the bent paper clip back into his desk drawer. “Never know when I might need that again,” he said, lifting the lid of the briefcase and peering inside. Both he and Matt gasped as they looked down onto five stacks of hundred dollar bills, each stack bound with a bank wrapper. Next to the money lay a .45 automatic with a nickel finish. Beneath all that lay some papers, face down.