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

by Bill Bernico

  Matt drove past the post office, dropped the bill into the curbside mailbox and continued on to the twelfth precinct. Kevin was standing in the lobby near the front door when Matt and Benny walked in. Matt looked somewhat surprised to see Kevin. “Good, you just saved me a few steps to your office, and after what we’ve been through, every step counts.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kevin said.

  “I think we each logged a couple miles doing interviews around Burbank,” Benny said.

  “Seems to me Sergeant Maddox told me your assigned area was just a few square blocks,” Kevin replied.

  “Well, it felt like a couple of miles anyway,” Matt said. ‘Listen, we’ve finished working for the Burbank Police and Sergeant Maddox suggested we talk to you and see if there’s anything more you can tell us about that last murder that might spark something we can use.”

  Kevin looked up and down the hallway and found they were alone. Nonetheless, he pulled the two men aside and spoke in a low voice. “I called Captain Lindsey early this morning to tell him about the fourth victim we found in Hollywood earlier in the day. I gave him the victim’s stats; age, height, weight, general description and occupation. I didn’t tell him anything about how the woman died. I was just curious enough to withhold that one bit of information.”

  “Curious about what?” Matt said.

  “It had occurred to me that maybe there could be a leak in the Burbank Department,” Kevin said. “I know it’s a long shot, but I just wanted to find out if there would be a fourth victim in his city, how that victim would die. If they come up with a fourth victim who dies in a different manner, this may involve one or more of their personnel.”

  “You can’t really suspect Burbank police of being the copycat killers, can you, Kevin?” Benny said.

  “I’m not ruling out any possibility at this point,” Kevin said.

  “And what if their fourth victim dies in the same way?” Matt said. “That could mean that if there is a leak, that it could be coming from this end.”

  “I thought of that, too,” Kevin said. “So far the only ones who know how she died are myself, Gerry Winkler and the cop who found the victim, and I want to keep it that way for now.”

  “Well, we know the coroner won’t say anything and you’re certainly not going to leak anything, but what about the cop who found the body?” Matt said.

  “It was Sergeant Baldwin,” Kevin explained. “And he’s not going to say anything to anyone else. He’s been with the department longer than I have. It was just the luck of the draw that I got the lieutenant’s job over him when Eric Anderson retired.”

  “How did the fourth victim die?” Benny said.

  Kevin shook his head. “It’s a lot easier for three people to keep a secret that it is for five. Sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” Matt said. “It’s one more responsibility I wouldn’t want, anyway.”

  “So you have nothing else for us then?” Matt said.

  Kevin shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. I guess you’ll both have to go back and do whatever it is you do with your own business.”

  “Good luck with this case,” Matt said. “You’re going to need it.”

  “Thanks, Matt, Benny,” Kevin said and walked back toward his office.

  Matt turned to Benny. “You heard the man. We’ve got a business to run. Let’s go back and run it.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Benny said. “Sounds to me like we’re in for a little leg dangling and staring out the window until a client shows up.”

  “Don’t knock it,” Matt said. “I don’t know about you, but my feet could use a little break.”

  Tom Bowers had already put in four and a half hours on his shift and was about to call the station to request a break when movement behind a furniture store caught his attention. He turned and headed in that direction, his flashlight in one hand and his other hand on his service revolver. Tom quietly made his way closer to what he could now see to be a man who was holding something in one hand and doing something else to the object with his other hand. The man looked like he was dropping something into his pocket and at that point Tom could see that his other hand held a revolver.

  Tom was within twenty feet when the man turned toward him, startled. “Freeze right there,” Tom yelled, aiming his .38 at the man, whose own gun now hung at his side. The man started to raise the revolver when Tom yelled. “Don’t even think about it.” Tom pulled back the hammer on his gun and shined his light in the man’s eyes. “Drop the gun, now.”

  The man didn’t comply, but raised the gun even further. He didn’t get a chance to raise it high enough for a shot when Tom fired, hitting the man in his right shoulder. The gun in his hand skittered across the cement and came to rest against the back of the furniture store. Tom hurried over to where the man had dropped to his knees, holding his shoulder. When he got close enough, Tom gasped in disbelief when he saw the man in the police uniform bleeding onto the pavement.

  Tom immediately grabbed his shoulder mic and called in to the station for backup, keeping his gun trained on the kneeling man. “Lay down and keep pressure on it,” Tom told the cop. “Help is on the way.” Tom scanned the immediate area and found a pair of women’s shoes peeking out from behind a large green dumpster. Tom shined his flashlight behind the trash container and into the face of a woman who had apparently been shot twice in the face. She had a large S drawn on her face in bright red lipstick. He turned back to the cop on the ground.

  The cop looked up at Tom. “I found her there and was about to call it in when you came along.”

  Tom holstered his weapon and knelt at the cop’s side. “Does it hurt bad?” Tom said.

  “I’ll live,” the cop told him.

  “Why didn’t you drop your gun when I told you to?” Tom said.

  The cop coughed. “All I could see was the light in my eyes. I couldn’t be sure who you were.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said, “but you of all people should know enough to comply with a cop’s orders.”

  “You never identified yourself as a cop,” he told Tom.

  “Didn’t I?” Tom said. “I was sure I did, but maybe…”

  At that point, the man pulled up his pant leg and reached for a .22 that he had strapped to his ankle. Tom caught the movement from the corner of his eye and was able to grab the man’s wrist before his could raise the gun. During the struggle for the gun, the man managed to squeeze off one round, shooting himself in the ankle. Tom easily wrestled the gun away from him after that.

  A black and white cruiser pulled into the space behind the store and two officer jumped out, their own guns aimed at the two men. They lowered their weapons when they recognized Tom.

  Tom stood up again, the .22 in his hand. He looked at the two patrol cops and sighed. “He must be one of yours, but I’ve never met him.”

  The driver of the patrol car, an officer name Buchanan, looked down at the wounded man and then over at his partner. Buchanan looked back at Tom. “He’s not one of us,” he told Tom.

  Another police car rolled onto the scene and two more cops got out to see what was happening in this remote spot. Buchanan turned back to the driver and instructed him to call for an ambulance.

  “Better get the coroner and crime lab over here, too,” Tom said, pointing to the dead woman lying behind the dumpster.

  Buchanan knelt down next to the man with two bullet wounds and dug the wallet out of his back pocket. He flipped it open to the driver’s license window and read, “Galloway, Charles W.” He looked at Tom. “He’s not a cop at all, one of ours or otherwise.” Buchanan patted Galloway down and stopped when he hit something hard in his left front pocket. It was a used tube of bright red lipstick. The cop glared down at Galloway.

  Tom let out a deep sigh of relief, realizing that he hadn’t shot a fellow officer after all. Buchanan’s partner, a rookie named Forbes came back from the patrol car carrying a large manila envelope. He handed the envelope t
o Buchanan, who wrote the pertinent information on the front and then held his hand out to Tom to take the .22 from him. He slipped the small revolver into the envelope and handed it back to Officer Forbes.

  “His other gun is over there,” Tom said, pointing to the .38 police special lying up against the back of the store. “I think he might have a silencer in his front pocket. He was doing something with the .38 when I approached.”

  Buchanan pulled a silencer from Galloway’s right front pocket and then stepped over and picked up the scuffed and scratched .38 and tucked it into his belt. He turned to Tom. “Good work, officer…”

  “Bowers,” Tom said. “Tom Bowers, fifth precinct.

  “What made you shoot a cop, or at least someone who looked like a cop?” Buchanan said.

  “I shined my light on him and told him to freeze,” Tom explained. “He raised the gun a little and I gave him another warning. When he ignored me, I fired and he went down, dropping his gun. When he went for the backup piece on his ankle I wrestled it away from him and he shot himself in the ankle.”

  Buchanan looked down at Charles W. Galloway. “Not too bright, are you, Chuckie?”

  Galloway said nothing and looked away, still holding onto his wounded ankle.

  The wail of an ambulance siren tore a hole in the night and screeched to a halt behind the patrol car. Two men in white pulled a gurney up to where Charles Galloway lay bleeding from two gunshots. They attended his wounds and determined that he’d make it back to the hospital without further attention. Buchanan gestured to his partner to ride along in the ambulance.

  “Make sure you leave me the keys to the patrol car before you go.” Buchanan called after his partner.

  Officer Forbes dug in his pocket, retrieved the key ring and tossed it to Buchanan. Buchanan called out, “I’ll meet you there.”

  As the ambulance pulled away another vehicle joined in the excitement and medical examiner Geraldine Winkler emerged from the coroner’s van. A man with a camera also got out and carefully stepped over to the crime scene, snapping shots of the dead woman as well as the surrounding area. He’d taken a dozen or more shots before stepping back and giving the coroner room to make her initial examination of the victim.

  “Two in the face,” she said. “That much is obvious.” She examined the woman further and found no other wounds or abrasions on the body. She turned back to Buchanan. “She’s got a scrape on her left cheek. Looks like someone hit her before they shot her.”

  Buchanan got on his shoulder mic and contacted Officer Forbes in the ambulance. “Make sure you bag Calloway’s hands. Tell the doctor to look for traces of flesh or blood on his right knuckles.”

  “Yes, sir,” Forbes said.

  Buchanan turned to Tom now and extended his hand, palm up. “I’m going to need your piece,” he said.

  Tom gave Buchanan a strange look and hesitated briefly.

  “It’s procedure, Officer Bowers,” Buchanan said. “It’s just routine.”

  Tom pulled his revolver from his holster and handed it to Buchanan.

  “They’ll want a statement from you back at the station, too.” Buchanan said. “Come on, you can ride with me.” He turned to the cop from the second patrol car and told him to secure the scene and stay with it until the coroner had finished with the body.

  Buchanan motioned for Tom to follow him back to the patrol car and the two men drove back to the precinct to sort out the paperwork. Tom spent the rest of his shift explaining in detail everything that had happened from the time he came upon Charles Calloway until the backup unit arrived. He told the story three times to the same two detectives who interviewed him. He was beginning to get irritated when one of the detectives laid a hand on his shoulder and assured him that it was purely a matter of routine and that they always asked the same questions several times to see if anything changed during the interrogation. When they were satisfied that he was being totally truthful, they thanked him and said he could leave.

  Tom got home shortly before eleven to find Olivia waiting up for him. Tom was usually home by quarter after ten and she got worried. She and Tom sat up for the next half hour while he explained what he’d gone through earlier.

  “I’m just so glad I didn’t kill that guy,” Tom said. “This was stressful enough without having something like that weighing on my conscience.”

  “And I’m glad you weren’t hurt,” Olivia said, throwing her arms around Tom’s neck and pulling him close. They went to bed that night and held each other tight until they fell asleep.

  The following morning Matt and Benny were just getting settled in at the office when Matt’s phone rang. It was Lieutenant Cole. “Matt, Kevin. You’re not going to believe this.”

  “Hold on a minute, Kevin,” Matt said. I’m going to put you on the speaker phone so I don’t have to remember what to tell Benny later.” Matt pressed the speaker phone button and hung up the phone. “Go ahead,” he told Kevin.

  “I don’t know if your brother-in-law mentioned anything to you about this yet, but it looks like they caught the copycat killer last night in Burbank. Caught him red-handed at the scene of his fourth murder. And it matched the fourth Hollywood murder to a tee, except for the red S on her forehead.”

  Matt was sitting up straight now and Benny had stepped closer to Matt’s desk to hear better. “That’s a relief,” Matt said. “At least one of them got caught.”

  “We got them both,” Kevin said.

  “Both?” Matt said, taken by surprise. “How’d you manage that one?”

  “You can thank your brother-in-law for that,” Kevin said.

  “What?”

  “Officer Tom Bowers is getting the credit for catching the Burbank copycat, as the papers are calling him,” Kevin explained.

  “Then who caught the Hollywood killer?” Benny said from where he sat.

  “They were one and the same person,” Kevin said. “So I guess Bowers will get the credit for putting an end to this reign of terror.”

  “The same person?” Matt said. “How’d you find that out?”

  “The Burbank Police had detectives at the killer’s bedside after he got out of surgery,” Kevin said. “Oh, did I mention that Tom shot the guy?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Matt said. “But get back to how you found out it was the same guy for both sets of murders.”

  “Like I said,” Kevin went on, “The detectives stayed with Galloway, that was his name, Charles Galloway, in his hospital room and he was happy to provide them with answers to everything they asked him. Hell, the guy was almost bragging about each killing.”

  “What about the game of horse?” Matt said. “Was this a one-man game?”

  “It sure was,” Kevin explained. “He’d find a victim in Hollywood, kill them in a particular manner and then wait a day or less before he moved over to Burbank and duplicated his Hollywood murder. Then he’d wait a couple of days and start the whole process over again. Whenever he’d duplicate his Hollywood murder in Burbank, he’d mark each victim’s forehead with the corresponding letter.”

  “It’s too bad about the first eight victims,” Matt said. “But at least you got him before he finished the game with numbers nine and ten.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors,” Kevin said. “Anyway, I just thought you’d like to know that it’s over. And you can tell your brother-in-law for all of us how grateful we are that he happened along when he did and acted like a good cop should.”

  “Oh, I’ll tell him all right, as soon as I see him,” Matt said.

  “He’s home now,” Kevin said. “Captain Lindsey gave him a few days off with pay. Something tells me Officer Bowers may be looking at a promotion before all this is over. Give him my best when you see him, Matt.”

  “I will, and thanks for the call, Kevin.” Matt picked up the phone and hung it back in the cradle again. He sat there speechless for a moment and then looked at Benny. “How about that brother-in-law of mine?” he said. “He’s really something.�
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  “That he is,” Benny said, but wasn’t smiling.

  “Well, you could be a little happier for him,” Matt said.

  “I was just thinking,” Benny said. “What if that shooting bothers him to the point where he’d want to trade in his uniform for this job? Where would that leave me?”

  Matt rose from his desk and came around to where Benny sat perched on the edge of Matt’s desk. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Benjamin Briggs. If Tom finds he can’t handle the stress of being a policeman, he’s already said that he’d fall back on his other vocation choice.”

  “And what would that be?” Benny said.

  “He’d become a lawyer,” Matt explained. “That’s what he was training for in college back in Wisconsin. He just took the policeman’s job in Burbank to get a little hands-on experience. Your job is safe here, Benny.”

  “Well, that’s a load off my mind,” Benny said. “You going to call him?”

  “No, I’m not,” Matt said.

  Benny gave Matt a strange look before Matt added, “I’m going to go over there right now and congratulate him in person. He is family, after all.”

  On his way to his sister’s house, Matt called home and told Chris all about it.

  *****

  Three weeks later Matt sat at his desk reading the morning paper. Benny had come in late for the first time since he’d been hired nearly a year ago. Matt figured everyone deserves one pass at the tardy bell and didn’t press the issue. He could tell by the pale look on Benny’s face that he’d probably been out way past his bed time the previous night and was no doubt drained of his energy. Matt left Benny alone and watched briefly as he laid his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes.

  Matt finished his paper twenty minutes later, folding it neatly and laying it on the corner of his desk. He swiveled his chair toward Benny’s desk and said, “All right, Benny, nap time’s over. Time to get to work.” Benny didn’t answer so Matt repeated his stern request a little louder this time. “Come on, Benny, up and at ‘em. Rise and shine. If you expect to get the worm, you’ll have to be a little more of an early bird.” Still Benny didn’t stir so Matt got out of his chair and walked over to Benny’s desk, reached over and shook him by the shoulder. There was still no response from Benny and now Matt was getting worried. He instinctively bent over and pressed two fingers into Benny’s neck and just as quickly stepped back when he didn’t find a pulse.