by Bill Bernico
“Is Floyd here now?” Matt said.
“Sure, hang on a second; I’ll get him for you.” Al turned his head toward the garage and yelled, “Floyd, come on out here for a minute, will ya?”
A moment later another man in coveralls joined Al in the front office. “Yeah, what’s up, Al?”
“Floyd, this is Mr.” He stopped and turned back to Matt. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch you name.”
“It’s Cooper,” Matt said. “Matt Cooper.” He held his hand out but Floyd just held his up in the air, showing Matt that it was full of grease. Matt withdrew his hand and just nodded instead.
Al turned back to Floyd. “Mr. Cooper was wondering if you might have seen anyone hanging around the parking lot at the diner around noon last Saturday.”
“Noon, Saturday,” Floyd said. “I think we were both working on that dual exhaust, if I remember.”
“You came out to the office for a sandwich around that time, didn’t you?” Al said.
“Come to think of it, I did,” Floyd said. “What about it?”
“Any chance you might have seen anyone in that parking lot,” Matt said, pointing across the street. “They might have been carrying some clothes and maybe a hat with them. Ring any bells?”
Floyd thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, I did,” he said. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but some guy opened the back door of one of the cars parked over there, took out a hanger with some sort of coverall hanging from it, grabbed a hat, closed the door again and walked away. Funny thing was he didn’t seem to be breaking into the car. He just pulled on the door handle and it opened. I also thought it was a little funny that he took just that one garment and ran up the street with it.”
“Did you see which way he went?” Matt said.
Floyd pointed up the street. “That way,” he said. I lost him when he ran around the corner heading west.”
“Thanks a lot, Floyd,” Matt said. “What was your last name?”
“Helms, Floyd Helms.”
“Thanks again, Floyd, Al,” Matt said. “Can I check back with you if I find the guy?”
They both nodded. “Sure, why not?”
Matt left the muffler shop and crossed the street to the diner’s parking lot. He headed north up the street and turned west at the corner. It was just another nondescript street full of nondescript houses but he knew he had to start asking these neighbors the same questions and start this process all over again if he expected to clear his dad of the false murder charge.
Matt spent the rest of that afternoon talking to people along that street but with no luck. Not one of the residents had remembered seeing anyone carrying anything past their house that day. He decided he might have better luck interviewing people who lived closer to the actual murder scene. It took Matt twenty-five minutes to find the neighborhood where the woman had been murdered. He didn’t have to ask which house it was. There was still crime scene tape stretched across the front door, the porch, two trees in front of the house and the back door as well. He’d keep his promise to Lieutenant Cole and stay away from that house.
Matt figured that the detectives would have already talked to everyone in the immediate vicinity, but they wouldn’t have known to ask about a man carrying a bundle of clothes with him. That would have been more memorable than seeing a man already wearing the costume. He’d have blended into the neighborhood like any other service man, meter reader or delivery man. Matt decided to start with the house situated directly across the street from the murder scene. He stepped up onto the small porch of the white house and rang the doorbell. This was an instance where it didn’t pay to represent himself as Joe Average Citizen. When the door opened, Matt would have his I.D. and shield out and ready.
“Excuse me,” Matt said, holding up the shield just long enough for the home owner to get a glint of the badge before flipping the leather case closed again. “Could I have a word with you about what happened across the street earlier?”
The man at the door looked puzzled. “I’ve already told those other policemen everything I knew.”
Matt didn’t bother correcting the man’s assumption about Matt also being a cop. “Well, we had a new development in the case and there are just a couple more questions that we need to ask, if you don’t mind. May I come in for a minute, sir?”
The man stepped aside, allowing Matt to enter. “My name’s Matt Cooper and you are?”
“Hayden, Vern Hayden,” the man said. “What is it you want to know?”
“So far we know that the murder occurred during the late hours of last night and the early hours of this morning,” Matt began. “Would you possibly remember seeing anyone at all in the neighborhood who looked like they might be carrying as bundle of clothes? The person I’m thinking of would have been carrying a rolled up coverall and a cap with a visor.”
Hayden shook his head. “I don’t recall seeing anyone like that around here.”
“What about a man wearing a coverall and that cap with the visor? See anyone like that?”
“Those other cops asked the same question,” Hayden said. “I talked to my neighbor, Sam Harris; he’s in the house one over.” Hayden hiked a thumb toward the house on his left. He didn’t see anything, either.”
Matt gestured with his head toward the house on Hayden’s right. “What about your neighbor on the other side?”
“I wouldn’t bother talking to her,” Hayden said. “She wouldn’t know anything.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because she’s blind,” Hayden said.
“Oh. Have to spoken to any of your neighbors across the street?”
Hayden shook his head. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms,” he said. “The guy one door to the left of Alice—that was her name—Alice, he’s a real jerk. Even if he knew anything, he wouldn’t tell you just for spite. The guy on the other side of Alice is so old he farts dust. The guy you’re talking about could have walked right by him and he wouldn’t notice.”
Matt pulled his notepad out, wrote down his name and office number, ripped it out of the pad and handed it to Vern Hayden. “Would you call me if you think of anything else or if you hear anything from anyone else around here?” He didn’t want to give Hayden his business card and expose himself as a private investigator.
Hayden folded the slip of paper and slipped it into his pocket. “Sure will, Mr. Cooper.”
Matt thanked the man and let himself out. He was tiring of all the leg work and interviews and just wanted to get back to his office. He still had an hour and a half before closing time and didn’t want to go home just yet. It was no place to quietly reflect with two young kids hungry for his attention.
Back at his desk, Matt picked up the phone and called his father. “Dad, what’s happening with you?”
“Not much,” Elliott said. “Just enjoying life on the outside. And you?”
“I’ve been hitting the pavement.”
“Didn’t hurt your knuckles, did you?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. What did you find out?”
“I found out that nobody knows anything, nobody saw anything and nobody heard anything. Kind of a waste of an afternoon if you ask me.”
“You didn’t really think you’d get lucky right out of the gate, did you?” Elliott said. “This could take some time.”
“I know, Dad, but come on,” Matt said. “You’d think at least one person would have noticed something. I take that back. One guy did see something. I talked to one of the mechanics at the muffler shop on the corner across from the diner and he says he saw a guy open your car door, take out something on a hanger and a visored cap and run up the street with it. At first he didn’t think anything of it, because the back door to your car wasn’t locked. This guy just pulled the handle and it came open.”
“I won’t make that mistake again,” Elliott said. “Did this mechanic see where the guy with my costume went?”
“Yeah, but t
hat was a big dead end. I must have talked to two dozen people between the muffler shop and the murder scene.”
“Matt?”
“I know,” Matt said. “I didn’t bother the murder scene. I just talked to some of the neighbors with no luck. I don’t know where to go or what to do next. I could use some help.”
“Why don’t you go home and spend some quality time with your family? Forget about this case until tomorrow morning. I’ll join you then and we’ll see what we can do about digging a little deeper, okay?”
Matt said nothing.
“Okay?” Elliott repeated.
“All right, Dad. I’ll see you in the morning. You planning on sleeping in or should I expect you when I open?”
“I’ll be there when you open,” Elliott said.
“Great. I’ll bring the chocolate milk. You bring the donuts.”
The following morning Matt walked into his office carrying a half-gallon jug of chocolate milk. Elliott was already there, an open box of donuts in front of him. Matt walked over, looked down at the box and silently counted. He looked back up at Elliott. “I only see ten. Did they run out at the bakery?”
“That was my breakfast,” Elliott said, pulling a clean cup off the shelf and holding out toward Matt.
“I should take two big swigs out of it before I pour any for you,” Matt said. “But I won’t. Here, you old fart. Wash down those first two donuts.”
“Whoa, what’s got you in a foul mood this morning?”
“I would have been here sooner,” Matt explained, but I ran into one of Chris’s friends coming out of the mini mart with the chocolate milk. I think I told you about her. She’s the one in Chris’s book club who lives over on Hobart.”
“I remember you telling me about her once before,” Elliott said. “Sandy or Candy or something like that, wasn’t it?”
“Carol.”
“Like I said. What about her?”
“She’s always been a bit of an airhead,” Matt said. “I don’t know how many times both Chris and I have told her that I’m a P.I. and still she comes to me every time she thinks someone ought to be arrested. Today was the clincher. She can see I’m in a hurry and yet she stepped right in front of me outside the store and started in complaining about someone stealing the wash right off her clothes line, like I give a rat’s ass.”
“Didn’t you tell her to call the cops if she’s so worried about it?”
Matt nodded. “I did indeed but she just wouldn’t shut up. All the while she’s talking to me, I’m edging closer to my car. Even after I got in and closed the door, she kept talking. That’ll teach me not to leave my window open.”
“Not that it matters one way or the other to me, but did she say what was stolen?” Elliott said.
“If she did, I wasn’t listening. I was just trying to find a lull in her rant where I could finally tell her I had to get going.” Matt paused and thought for a moment. “Wait a second; she did mention what was taken. It was an ankle-length floral print dress. That’s funny. I thought that kind of information would have gone in one ear and out the other, but I remember her saying that the dress was all that was missing. Hmmmpf.”
Elliott’s face lost its smirk and he went silent.
“What’s the matter, Dad?”
Elliott hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Just before you came in I was talking to Kevin down at the twelfth precinct. They had another murder last night of this morning.”
“And the victim was wearing the ankle-length floral print dress?”
Elliott shook his head. “No, but one was found at the scene, spattered with the victim’s blood.”
Matt stopped pouring chocolate milk into his cup and set the jug on his desk. He looked back at his dad. “Sound familiar?”
“What are you getting at, Matt?”
“That first killing—the one they arrested you for—that had similar circumstances. The victim’s blood was found all over the coverall you bought at Paramount. I wonder…” Matt picked up the phone and dialed Kevin Cole at the twelfth precinct.
“Cole,” Kevin said.
“Kevin, it’s Matt Cooper.”
“I’m a little busy right now, Matt,” Kevin said. “In case Elliott hadn’t mentioned it, I’m up to my armpits with another murder.”
“Exactly,” Matt said. “That’s kind of why I’m calling. Had it occurred to you that the M.O. in this murder and the one you arrested Dad for are similar?”
“What are you getting at,” Matt?”
“I mean the killer in that first case, not Dad, by the way, dressed in the coverall to do the killing. You know that because of the blood spatter on the coverall. Now this murder victim’s blood is spattered all over some dress, which was also left at the scene. To me that sound like more than a coincidence.”
Kevin was silent for a moment. “What do you know about this dress, other than what Elliott probably told you?”
“I believe that dress belongs to a friend of Chris’s,” Matt explained and gave Kevin a brief synopsis of his run-in with Carol.
“And?”
“Lieutenant,” Matt said. “It would seem to me that the killer just didn’t want any trace of blood ending up on his own clothes, which is why he or she changed into some other outfit before killing these people. It would also seem apparent that since Dad was home last night with a solid witness, that he was not involved in this second killing.”
“I notice you didn’t claim that Elliott had nothing to do with the first killing, just the second one,” Kevin said.
“I’m getting to that,” Matt said. “Suppose you run both outfits—the coverall and the dress—through the crime lab and see if they can come up with any sweat, dirt, skin follicles or B.O. from either garment. If they match, then Dad’s off the hook.”
“Not totally,” Kevin said. “If we find any of those traces you mentioned and if they match that just means that the same person wore both outfits and murdered both victims. We’d still need to compare what we find with the murderer.”
“Well, when you get that far, give us a call and I’ll personally bring Dad in so you can rule him out as a suspect in both murders. Deal?”
“I’ll want to talk to this friend of Chris’s,” Kevin said. “What’s her name?”
“Carol,” Matt said.
Kevin waited a few seconds and then said, “I need more than just a first name.”
“Call Chris at home,” Matt said. “I only know her as Carol. She can give you the rest.”
“Thanks, Matt,” Kevin said. “I think you might have given me another avenue to pursue.”
“What’s that?”
“Let me take it a little further,” Kevin said. “I let you know if it pans out.”
Matt hung up the phone and finished pouring himself a cup of chocolate milk. He reached into the box and pulled out a plain cake donut, one bite taking half the donut away. He washed it down and gestured toward Elliott with the other half of the donut. “Kevin’s onto something, but he won’t tell me what.”
“He will, eventually,” Elliott said. “Give him time.”
Lieutenant Cole pressed the intercom to summon his secretary, Bonnie. “Bonnie would you come in here for a second?”
“Right away, Lieutenant.” Bonnie brought her steno pad and pencil with her. “Yes, sir?”
“Here’s what I need,” Kevin said. “Pull any files involving thefts of clothing, whether it be from someone’s clothes line, or if it was shoplifted or burgled.”
“How about clothes stolen out of public washers and dryers at the Laundromats and apartment buildings?” Bonnie offered.
“Good thinking,” Kevin said, pointing to Bonnie. “Whatever you can think of. If it involves clothes stolen or missing, I want to know about it. If you need any help, just tell Sergeant Powers I said you could have two or three officers.”
“Yes sir,” Bonnie said. “Will there be anything else?”
“That’ll do it for now,” Kevin said. “Brin
g me anything as soon as you find something. I mean, don’t wait to bring it all at once. I want it as you find it.”
“Yes, sir.” Bonnie left Kevin’s office, closing the door behind her.
Kevin picked up his phone and dialed Matt Cooper’s home number and got the rest of the information he needed about Carol and her stolen dress. He thanked her and left his office. He got to the home of Carol Avery a few minutes later and found Carol sitting on the front porch, like she’d told him on his phone on the way over.
Kevin planned on spending just five minutes getting a few more details from Carol but soon found himself trapped by her non-stop talking, even after he’d finished with his questions. Finally, after twenty minutes, Kevin said, “I don’t want to be rude, Miss Avery, but I really have to be going now.”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Carol said. “I didn’t mean to keep you so long, but you know my cousin’s youngest boy, Teddy, well he…”
Manners be damned, Kevin simply turned and walked back to his car and drove away, mumbling to himself something about blabby women. By the time he returned to his office, Bonnie had a small stack of file folders waiting for him. She handed him the stack as he passed her desk.
“What’s this?” Kevin said.
“It’s what we uncovered so far,” Bonnie explained. “I got two officers to help me and we’re coming right along. I thought you might want to look at those three for now.”
“Thanks you, Bonnie,” Kevin said. “Good job.” He carried the three folders back to his desk and sat down. The first folder had a case that was less than a week old. A woman had called the precinct to report that someone had taken her wash out of one of the washing machines at a Laundromat downtown. The report went on to say that although nothing was taken, the woman still lodged a complaint because her wet wash had been carelessly thrown on the floor and she had to wash it over again at a cost of three dollars. Kevin set this folder aside and picked up the second folder.
This case was dated ten days ago and involved a complaint lodged by a department store in Hollywood. The store manager had called to say that someone had shoplifted a pair of men’s slacks as well as a white hooded sweat shirt with a U.C.L.A. logo on it. That caught Kevin’s attention. He still had one open case of assault with a deadly weapon. The victim was still in a coma but another witness claimed to have seen a man wearing clothing like those described. They told police that the man beat a woman with some sort of blunt instrument and fled when the witness called out to him.