by Bill Bernico
Tom let out a deep breath. “For a minute there I thought you’d heard something that I hadn’t.
“If I do,” Elliott said, “you’ll be the first to know. So, how’s it going at college?”
“We’re both doing well this year,” Tom said. “I think we’ve found our comfort zone.”
Gloria still had that silly grin plastered on her face when she stepped up and hugged her husband.
Elliott shook his head and said, “Bridge club bake sale, my ass,” he said and then broke out into a broad grin. “How long have you known about this?”
“Two weeks,” Gloria said. “You have no idea how many times I almost let it slip out.”
Elliott turned around to look at his devious son. “And you knew about this, too, didn’t you?”
“Duh,” Matt said.
Elliott looked in the general direction of his family and said to no one in particular, “Isn’t it customary to throw the retirement party after the guest of honor retires? I still have until the end of the week until it’s official.”
Gloria spoke for her group. “We figured we’d do it now, before you had a chance to change your mind.”
Lieutenant Eric Anderson stepped up to Elliott now. “And I wanted to make sure I had my fishing partner lined up before I pulled the plug myself.”
“And when will that be?” Elliott said.
Eric looked at his watch and announced, “Three weeks, four days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?”
Elliott shot a glance over Eric’s shoulder and spotted Matt and Charles Dobbs standing there looking back at him. Suddenly it came to him and Elliott shook his finger in Matt’s face. “Charles Dobbs?” he said. “Was he your idea, too?”
At that instant, Charles Dobbs stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper,” he said. “Matt told me to stall you as long as I could. I guess I overdid it a little.”
“So you really don’t have a step-brother for me to find?” Elliott said.
“Sorry,” Dobbs said, shaking his head.
“Help me, Lord,” Elliott said, in his best Archie Bunker voice. He looked back at Dobbs. “You’re lucky I’m a patient guy.”
“Likewise, Dobbs said. “I was running out of things to ask you.”
“Excuse me,” Elliott said, stepping over to the food table and sampling some of the finger foods. From somewhere in a back corner Elliott heard some easy listening music begin to play from a CD player attached to a loud speaker.
Elliott felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Gloria smiling at him. “Care to dance, Mr. Cooper?” she said.
“Did you wear your steel-tip work shoes?” Elliott said. “I’ve been known to step on more than a few toes in my day.”
“I’ll take the chance,” Gloria said, pulling out into the middle of the floor. She threw her arms around Elliott’s neck as he pulled her close. They slowly swayed to the ballad that was playing.
Elliott pulled his head back a little and looked into Gloria’s eyes. “If this music suddenly gets faster, I’m out of here. Just letting you know, I’ve gone my whole life without ever having fast danced and I don’t intend to start tonight.”
“I’ve always been meaning to ask you about that,” Gloria said. “Why is it you’ve never learned to fast dance?”
“Because I’ve seen my share of men attempting to fast dance,” Elliott said. “I’ve also seen my share of men after they’ve been shot and the movements they made weren’t that much different. Face it, men trying to dance always look like wounded Wildebeests once the lion has them by the throat.”
The music ended and Elliott quickly pulled Gloria off the floor, back toward the food table. Next to the food table Elliott noticed a pile of fancy wrapped boxes with ribbons and bows on them. He took a closer look and noticed that they all had cards attached to them. Elliott opened one of the cards and discovered that it was a humorous retirement card and that no doubt meant that these were all presents for him. He read the card and laughed out loud.
“That one’s from me,” a voice from behind him said.
Elliott turned around to see Eric Anderson smiling. “When I saw that card, I knew it was the perfect one for you.” By now several other people, including Elliott’s family had gathered around him. “Go on, Elliott,” Eric said. “Read it out loud.”
Elliott cleared his throat and held the card up at chin level. “It says, Everyone should believe in something. I believe I will go fishing.” Elliott ripped open the box that the card was attached to and pulled out a new fishing rod and reel. He turned to Eric and smiled warmly before holding the present up for everyone to see. “Thank you, Eric,” Elliott said.
“Hey,” Eric said, “If you’re going to go fishing with me, you might as well do it up right. Congratulations buddy.”
Matt pointed to a smaller package on the table. “That one’s from me,” he said.
Elliott picked up the package, pulled the card from it and read it out loud. “This one says, Don’t want to, don’t have to and you can’t make me.” He laughed at Matt’s sarcastic sentiment and ripped the wrapping off the accompanying present. He looked into the box, plucked one sample from it and held it up for everyone to see. It was a box of business cards. He read from the card in his hand. “Matt got me some business cards that say, Elliott Cooper – Retired. And at the bottom where the phone number should go, it says, 555-NO CALLS. He turned to Matt and shook his hand. “Just what I needed. Thank you, Matt. These will come in handy.”
Gloria picked up a package from the table and handed it to her husband. “I put a lot of thought into this gift,” she said. “I hope you like it.”
Elliott opened the box and pulled out a round disc, about the size of a wall clock. On the face he could see a red arrow that freely spun around the perimeter of the face. Where the numbers would normally be on a clock, this disc had single words that said, Golf, Nap, Fish, Sleep, Eat and TV. Elliott flicked his finger on the end of the arrow and it spun around, coming to rest over the word, Nap. He turned to his guests and said, “Excuse me, it’s nap time and took one step away from the crowd before turning back to them. He looked at Gloria. “Thank you, Gloria. Now I don’t even have to think.”
Olivia stepped forward, found her gift on the table and handed it to her father. “Tom and I picked this one out for you, Daddy,” she said.
Elliott ripped off the wrapping and held up a red tee shirt with printing on the front that said, Enjoying every cent of my kids’ inheritance. He laughed out loud at that one. “Thank you, Olivia, Tom,” he said, holding the shirt over his chest to get the effect.
When the initial excitement of the moment died down I was able to pull Olivia and Tom aside. We sat at an empty table and got comfortable. “So,” Elliott said. “Tell me about the trip out here. How was it?”
Olivia and Tom both smiled and then Olivia said, “Memorable, to say the least.”
“How so?” I said, leaning in toward her.
Well,” Olivia said, “We were sitting in the middle section and there was this family in the three seats near the window. At least we thought they were a family. Turns out that the mother was in the aisle seat and her three-year-old son was sitting next to the window. The father was sitting between them when some stranger, who we dubbed Mr. Cranky stepped up, looked at his ticket and told the father that he was sitting in his seat. The woman’s husband looked at his ticket and was surprised to find that he had the seat directly behind them.”
Tom jumped in now, eager to share his memory of the event. “Anyway, the husband looks up at Mr. Cranky and asks if he could switch seats with him so he could sit with his family. The guy must have been one of those anal, rigid people who can’t accept change and told the husband that he’d paid for this particular seat weeks ahead of time and that it was where he always sat when he took this flight, which was twice a week for the past year.” He gestured toward Olivia, as if it was her turn to continue with the story.
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Olivia giggled and added, “As soon as we got to cruising altitude and the seat belt sign was turned off, the kid told his mother that he had to use the bathroom. She told Mr. Cranky that she was sorry but that little Timmy had to use the bathroom. Mr. Cranky seemed quite annoyed but grudgingly stood in the aisle and let the kid squeeze past him. When the mother and kid returned from the toilet, the kid had to squeeze past the stranger again and take his seat by the window. It only took a few minutes before little Timmy put down his crayons and turned to his mother and told her that he had spit.”
It was Tom’s turn again. “Sure enough, the kid was pale and didn’t look well at all,” he said. “His mother frantically searched for a barf bag, but there wasn’t any in the seat pockets. Her husband passed one up from behind, and the mother leaned across Mr. Cranky to reach her son. Timmy did the same thing and promptly vomited all over Mr. Cranky. Horrified, little Timmy apologized profusely while continuing to puke, this time missing the barf bag and ending up vomiting all over Mr. Cranky.”
Olivia jumped in again, laughing at the mental picture that would be forever seared into her brain. “A flight attendant rushed over with wet towels and napkins,” she said. “Mr. Cranky turned green as he attempted to clean himself up. He then sprang from his seat and demanded that the husband trade seats with him, as he was now wet with vomit.”
“This part is priceless,” Tom added. It was worth the admission price just to hear the husband tell Mr. Cranky that he had paid for that particular seat and was not going to switch for him when he could have avoided this in the beginning. Mr. Cranky then turned to the mother and demanded to sit in her seat. She politely declined. Mr. Cranky then spent the remainder of the flight in the lavatory until the plane was prepared for landing and the flight attendants made him return to his seat.”
By now Elliott was bent over in laughter. “Kids,” he said. “Gotta love ‘em.” He sat upright again and looked at Olivia. “Speaking of kids, when are you two going to start a family of your own?”
Olivia and Tom stopped laughing and just stared at Elliott. “Daddy,” Olivia said. “We both still have almost three years of college to finish before we can even think about having any kids. Maybe someday, but not right now.”
The next morning Elliot slept in an extra hour. It was part of Matt’s retirement present to him. Elliott walked in right at ten o’clock and found Matt on the phone, apparently talking to a potential client. He quietly hung up his jacket and took a seat behind his desk.
A minute later Matt hung up his phone and looked over at Elliott. “Nope,” Matt said. “It didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work?” Elliott said.
“That extra hour of beauty rest,” Matt said, laughing.
“Nobody likes a...” Elliott began to say before he remembered that Matt had already reminded him that he had over-used that cliché in the past.
“Nobody likes a what?” Matt said.
“Nothing,” Elliott remarked. “Did you pick up another client this morning?”
“I think so,” Matt said. “I’ll tell you after I talk to him some more. He’s coming here in a few minutes.” And he wasn’t kidding. Ninety seconds later the office door opened and a man in a business suit stepped inside, looked at both men and decided that Elliott looked like the one with experience.
“Good morning,” Elliott said, rising and offering his hand to the man.
The man shook Elliott’s hand. “Good morning. I take it you would be Matt Cooper.”
Elliott gestured toward Matt. “That’s the man you want to talk to,” Elliott told the man. “I’m Elliott.”
The man was wearing tan slacks and a blue, short sleeved shirt. He wore penny loafers and plaid socks. His hair was neatly cut short and his right hand sported a class ring. Matt didn’t like anything about him from first glance but he offered his hand anyway.
“Matt Cooper, he said. “And you are?”
“Lloyd Crenshaw,” the man said, taking Matt’s hand. It was a short shake and the man sat in Matt’s client chair even before Matt had invited him to sit. “Can we get right to it, Mr. Cooper?”
From over Crenshaw’s shoulder, Matt caught Elliott’s gaze and knew he’d better look away before his father did something to make him laugh. He switched his gaze to Crenshaw. “What is it I can do for you today, Mr. Crenshaw?”
“Can we speak frankly, Mr. Cooper?”
“By all means.”
“I’d like you to follow someone for me,” Crenshaw began. When he saw the nondescript look on Matt’s face, he added, “Yes, I know, it sounds pretty dull on the outset. You probably get requests like this all the time.”
Matt nodded. “That we do, Mr. Crenshaw.”
“Well, this one is different,” Crenshaw said, shifting in his seat. “I’ve tried following him myself with no luck. I’ve hired two other investigators to try to follow him and they gave up and returned my retainers.”
“What’s so hard about following a man?” Matt said. “He can’t make himself invisible, can he?”
Crenshaw looked at Matt impatiently. “If you’re not going to take this assignment seriously, perhaps I should take my business elsewhere.”
“Sorry, Mr. Crenshaw,” Matt said, holding one palm toward his client. “Please, go on.”
Crenshaw hesitated, took a deep breath and continued. “The guy I need to have followed seems to know he’s being followed and it would appear that he has help. When I tried following him in my car, he’d park, get out and start walking. Naturally, I’d get out of my own car and follow him on foot. We’d get a block or two from my car and suddenly another car would pull up in the street and this guy would get in and he’d be gone. By the time I could get back to my own car, there’d be no trace of him. The same thing happened to the two operatives I hired. They had limited manpower and just couldn’t keep up the tail.”
“That would be a problem,” Matt agreed. He gestured past Crenshaw at his father. “We are a two-man operation. Elliott there, is also my father as well as my partner and we could both take on this tail job. Between the two of us, we wouldn’t let your target out of our sight.”
“That’s been tried, Mr. Cooper,” Crenshaw explained. “That second operative I hired also had a partner and those two couldn’t keep up the chase between them, and they were each in separate cars. What makes you think you can do any better?”
Matt nodded to Elliott, who got up from his desk and walked over to the closet. Elliott took a box off the shelf and brought it back to Matt’s desk, opening it in front of Mr. Crenshaw. He looked at Matt’s client and plucked the miniature helicopter from the box, holding it so Crenshaw could get a good look at it. “This,” Elliott said, “is what we here at Cooper Investigations refer to as our edge. With his little device, we only need one vehicle to tail a target. One of us drives while the other operates this copter remotely from the passenger seat. It will hover overhead, out of sight, and aim its camera down onto the subject, so even if we lose him in traffic, we still maintain visual contact on the monitor. It also has the capability to lock onto any target and stay with it unattended by an operator. So you see, Mr. Crenshaw, heavy traffic and vehicle switches won’t even slow us down.”
Crenshaw looked more closely now at the small copter and at the camera attached to it. He looked up at Elliott and then over at Matt. “What’s this thing?” Crenshaw said, pointing to a small nub on the copter’s underside.
“That’s a microphone,” Matt explained. “It’ll pick up the sounds from the target as well. And right next to the microphone, we have a small speaker mounted. In the event the copter operator gets separated from the driver, the two can still communicate through the copter.
“Do you two think you can get the job done with that?” Crenshaw said.
“If we can’t,” Elliott said, “It won’t cost you a dime and we’ll even return your retainer. What have you got to lose?”
Crenshaw hesitated momentarily and then said, “All
right. I’ll give you one chance at it. When can you start?”
“Right away,” Matt said. “We’ll just need some more information from you about whom it is we’re supposed to follow, his name, address, phone number, place of employment, known hangouts and a photo of the subject.”
“Whom,” Crenshaw said. “I’m impressed.” He supplied all that Matt asked for, including a three by five photo of the subject, Harold Babcock.
Matt got his signature on a standard contract and a four hundred dollar retainer. “May I ask why you need to know where this man is going and what he’s doing?”
“You may not,” Crenshaw said abruptly. “All you need to find out is where he goes, when he goes there and the name of the person he meets and then report back to me. If you can do that I’ll pay your going rate plus a handsome bonus when you complete the assignment.”
“Fair enough,” Matt said, tearing the customer copy of the contract apart from the original and handing it to his new client. “How soon do you need this information?”
“By the end of the week,” Crenshaw said without hesitation.
Elliott and Matt exchanged glances and Elliott nodded. Matt turned back to Crenshaw and said, “We’ll get you what you need, Mr. Crenshaw,” and stood.
Crenshaw took the cue and got up from his chair. “I’ll call you Friday morning to see what you’ve found.” He turned and left the office without further comment.
Elliott held up a palm and waited until he heard the elevator close before speaking. “Are you sure you didn’t promise that guy something you can’t deliver, Matt?”
“Between the two of us and that spy copter, we should be able to get what we need before Friday,” Matt said and then remembered something. “Oh, but you mentioned something about having to find some guy’s step-brother for him, didn’t you?”
“That job never panned out,” Elliott explained. “Once the client found out that the step-brother hadn’t been included in their father’s will, he suddenly lost interest in finding him.”
“Ah, that strong family tie,” Matt said sarcastically. “So then you’re free to help me with this case.”