by Bill Bernico
All four of the Coopers began to mumble something at once.
Bentley and Ferguson both smiled at the same time.
“What?” Matt said.
“Nothing,” Bentley explained. “I just know how it is with families and vacations. Doesn’t take long to get on each other’s nerves. Am I right?”
“Now how would you know that?” Chris asked.
“This is the route to the Grand Canyon,” Bentley explained. “I’ve been a cop in this area for a lot of years and have come across more families on their way to the Grand Canyon than I can even remember, and most of them never stay for the whole time. They either run out of things to do, get bored or get on each other’s nerves. Which was it with you?”
Matt said nothing but just looked at the ground.
“What’s the matter?” Bentley said. “Didn’t you ever see Chevy Chase in that Vacation movie?”
Matt looked up at the cop, gave two Chevy Chase-type bobble-nods of the head. All he was missing was the cowboy hat.
Bentley laughed. He knew exactly what Matt was talking about.
It had been nearly two weeks since Matt returned home early from his Grand Canyon vacation. He and his kids were back at work at the office that morning when the phone call came. Nick answered it. “Cooper Investigations, Nick speaking.”
“Is this the Cooper who found that wrecked car at the wayside about a month ago?” the old woman’s voice said.
“You probably want to talk to my father, Matt,” Nick told her and put her on hold. He turned to Matt. “You want to take this one, Dad? Some woman is asking about that car we found at the wayside.”
“All right,” Matt said and picked up his phone. “This is Matt Cooper. How may I help you?”
“Yes, my name is Agnes Wells,” the old woman said. “I was reading in the paper about a family on vacation who found a wrecked car with some people in it. Would that be you?”
“Why do you ask?” Matt said, unwilling to give too much information away without knowing anything about this caller.
“Mr. Cooper,” she said. “In this article, the police say they have identified the three passengers from that car. They also say they have identified a fourth person found in the woods. The story went on to say that the four men held up a bank in Victorville.”
“You seem to have all the facts,” Matt said. “What is it I can do for you?”
“One of those men was my son,” Agnes said. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about this incident. Please, Mr. Cooper. It’s very important to me.”
“Very well,” Matt said. “Do you know where my office is located?”
“I don’t know if that matters,” Agnes said. “I couldn’t get there even if I did. I don’t get around too well these days. I was wondering if you could come here.”
“I guess I could,” Matt said. “But couldn’t you tell me what it is you want?”
“I want you to prove that my son was innocent, Mr. Cooper,” Agnes said.
Matt paused momentarily and then said. “All right, Mrs. Wells. What is your address?”
Agnes gave Matt her address, thanked him and told him she’d see him soon. Matt hung up and turned to Nick. “That was a strange call. That woman says that one of the men in that ‘65 Catalina was her son and she wants me to prove that he was innocent.”
“Innocent of what?” Veronica said from her desk.
“Exactly,” Matt said. “She read the newspaper account of us finding the car and learned that we were private investigators and decided to look us up. I assume she wants us to prove that her son wasn’t part of that bank holdup all those years ago. I don’t know how I’m going to do that, but she sounded so frail and desperate I figured, what the hell. I’ll at least go and talk to her.”
“I read that same article,” Nick said. “It gave those four men’s ages. Two of the guys in the car were pretty old, at least in their late thirties or early forties. They’d both be in their seventies if they were still alive. The third guy was in his early twenties, if I remember correctly. Odd man out, so to speak.”
“Old guys in their thirties and forties?” Matt said indignantly.
“Sorry, Dad,” Nick said. “I didn’t mean…Oh hell, I just meant the third guy didn’t fit in with the other two. That’s all. Anyway, that would mean two of their mothers would be creeping up on ninety by now.”
“That’s what the voice sounded like,” Matt said. “I’m just curious enough to go and see what she has to say. Can you two keep an eye on things here while I’m out?”
“Sure,” Nick said. “I’m still finishing up my paperwork from yesterday’s case.”
“Dad,” Veronica said, ‘Could I come with you?”
Matt’s eyes furrowed. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Veronica said. “I guess I just want to meet this old woman and hear what she has to say. You never know, she may tell another woman things that she might not tell you.”
“You got nothing else going today?” Matt asked.
Veronica shook her head. “Nothing.”
Matt tossed his head toward the door. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack on his way out the door. He and Veronica got into Matt’s sedan and drove out of the parking lot. He handed Veronica the piece of paper he’d written the old woman’s address on. “You know this city as well as anyone,” he said to her. “Suppose you navigate. Where am I going?”
Veronica glanced at the piece of paper, looked at the address and formed a mental picture of the L.A. map. Once she had her bearings she said, “Go on down to Western Avenue and turn right. I’ll tell you where to go from there.”
Matt turned south on Western Avenue and then looked to Veronica for more directions.
“Keep going until you get to Wilshire and then go left,” Veronica said.
Several minutes later Matt headed east on Wilshire before Veronica gave him the next set of directions. “Keep going all the way to Hoover Street then head south again. It should be just a few blocks south from there.”
When they got to the address Agnes had given Matt he looked out his window and remarked, “You sure this is the place? This looks more like a…”
“Like a nursing home,” Veronica said. “I guess that would be as good a place as any for a ninety-some year old woman. Come on, Dad, let’s go meet her.”
Matt and Veronica walked through the front gate up to the door and let themselves in. The halls were quiet, save for the occasional moan of some resident sitting in a wheelchair. The halls were filled with people in wheelchairs, some just sitting and some rolling themselves down the hall. Matt stopped at a reception desk just inside the door and found a middle-aged woman reading a magazine and drinking coffee. She didn’t even look up when Matt approached. Matt knocked on the counter with his knuckles. “Hello,” he said.
The woman set her coffee cup down, laid the magazine on the table in front of her and turned to see who was trying to get her attention. “Yes?” she said.
“I’d like to see Agnes Wells,” Matt said.
“So who’s stopping you?” the woman said with a voice that sounded like she’d been used to smoking and drinking bourbon straight from the bottle.
“Can you tell me what room she’s in so I don’t have to roam these halls forever?” Matt said, giving her back some of the sarcasm he’d gotten from her.
The woman sighed heavily, as if the request was interrupting her day and finally said, “Three eighteen, just down this hall and to your right.” She immediately went back to her magazine and coffee.
“And you have a good day as well,” Matt said and left the reception area. He led Veronica down the hall to room 318 and knocked before walking in to find another old woman sitting in a chair staring out the window. “Excuse me,” Matt said. “I’m looking for Agnes Wells.”
The old woman didn’t even turn to see who was talking. She just kept staring out the window. Matt figured she must be deaf or close to it so he edged up
closer and repeated his request at the woman’s side. The woman turned now to look at Matt, a question playing on her face. She held a cupped hand to one ear and said, “How’s that?”
“Agnes Wells,” Matt almost yelled. “Is this her room?”
The woman looked at her watch. “Yes, it’s almost noon.”
“No,” Matt said, louder this time and then decided to find someone else to help him locate Agnes Wells. “Never mind,” he told the old woman and left the room. “We’ll have to find someone else,” Matt told Veronica. “This woman can’t hear too well.” He and Veronica walked across the hall to a room whose door hung wide open. He looked in and saw two women, each one sitting on the edge of two beds. They were facing each other, talking. “Excuse me,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. “Can either of you tell me where I might find Agnes Wells?”
“Her room is across the hall,” one of the women told him.
“I know,” Matt said, but she’s not in there.”
The other woman, eager to help, said, “You could try the recreation room. Agnes likes to knit in there.”
“Thank you,” Matt said. “And where could I find this recreation room?”
“You just go down that hall until you can’t go anymore,” she told Matt. “The recreation room is the door on your right.”
“Thank you,” Matt said and returned to the Veronica in the hall. “That way.” They found the recreation room and noticed it was half full of people sitting at tables. “Now how do we find her?” Matt said.
Veronica saw a middle-aged woman in a blue smock who seemed to be running the show and approached her. “Excuse me,” Veronica said. “We’re looking for Agnes Wells. Could you point her out too me?”
The woman scanned the room and found Agnes. “Over there,” she told Veronica. “She’s the one with the blue hair next to the window.”
“Thank you,” Veronica said and motioned Matt to come over. “Follow me,” she told her dad. They walked up behind the blue haired old woman and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to look up at her visitors, a bit startled. “Are you Agnes Wells?” Veronica said.
“Yes,” Agnes replied in a weak voice.
“My name is Veronica Cooper and this is my father, Matt. You called this morning and asked to see him.”
“Oh yes,” Agnes said. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Is there someplace we can talk?” Matt asked her.
“We can go back to my room,” she told Matt.
“There’s someone else already in there,” Matt said. “You sure you don’t want to go someplace more private?”
“Oh, that’s just Gertie,” Agnes said. “We can talk in front of her. She can’t hear anything anyway.”
“All right,” Matt said, releasing the brakes on Agnes’s wheelchair and pushing her back down the hall. He found room 318 again and pushed Agnes inside, closing the door behind him and Veronica. Matt found two other chairs and parked the wheelchair in front of them. He and Veronica sat across from Agnes. “Now suppose you tell me more about your son and why you think he wasn’t involved in that holdup all those years ago.”
“Robby was a good boy,” Agnes began. “He was never in trouble with the law before.”
“And when was the last time you saw Robby?” Matt said.
Agnes thought for a moment and then offered, “I remember, it was three days before his birthday, the first of August. He was supposed to take me shopping that day.”
“You both lived in Los Angeles back then?” Veronica asked.
“Back then and since,” Agnes said. “I still can’t figure out how Robby ended up way out there in that car out in the middle of nowhere.”
“You know, Mrs. Wells,” Matt said. “Sometimes even good kids fall in with the wrong crowd and then trouble just seems to follow.”
“Not my Robby,” Agnes said. “If he was with those men, they must have forced him to go along. He’d have never gone on his own.”
“All right,” Matt conceded. “Assuming that’s the case, what is it you’d like me to find out for you?”
Agnes sighed. “Mr. Cooper,” she said. “I don’t have long to live and when I finally go, I’d like it to be with the knowledge that Robby didn’t do what they said he did. That’s all. Can you do that for me?”
“That’s a tall order,” Matt said. “A lot of time has passed and…”
Veronica interrupted Matt and turned to Agnes. “We’ll find out for you, Mrs. Wells,” she assured the old woman. “Don’t worry; we’ll prove that your Robby was a good boy.” She patted the tops of Agnes’s hands and then turned to her father. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go find out more about Robby.”
“Oh bless you both,” Agnes said, a weak smile creeping onto her face.
Matt stood, laid a hand on Agnes’s shoulder and gave it a soft pat. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we find anything out. Good-bye Mrs. Wells.” He and Veronica left the room and walked back down the hallway to the exit. Once they were outside Matt stopped, turned to Veronica and said, “Just how do you plan to go about proving that her Robby was a good boy?”
“Dad,” Veronica said. “That was just something I said. I told her what she wanted to hear to make her happy. We could do a little cursory search, ask around to a few people, do a little Internet research and see what surfaces. Meanwhile, Agnes will be content knowing that someone cares enough to look. Did you get a good look at her, Dad? She doesn’t have long and if I can help he go out on a high note, so much the better, even if we can’t prove anything one way or the other.”
Matt pondered this for a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “I’m glad you came along with me, Veronica. What do you want to do first?”
“Well,” Veronica said. “Right off the bat, you know there’s not going to be any fee involved with this case. She’s probably in this place with government assistance of some sort. Just think of this case as a good will cause, if you will. It won’t really cost us anything to make a few calls and check the web, will it?”
“I guess not,” Matt agreed. “So far all it has cost us so far is a little gas to get here and an hour of our time. Let’s get back to the office and start looking into this.” He and Veronica made it back to the office forty minutes later.
Nick was still at his desk plunking away at his laptop computer. “Well that was quick,” he said. “You solve this case already?”
“Don’t be a smart ass,” Veronica said to her brother. “Dad and I are working on it.”
“That’s right, Nick,” Matt said. “One of those three that were found in the car may be an innocent unwilling participant. We’re going to find out if that’s the case and give an old lady a little peace of mind.”
“After all these years, what does it matter?” Nick said.
“It matters to her,” Veronica told him. “That’s just the way mothers are. They’ll defend their sons to the end. Imagine if three guys kidnapped you and took you along on a bank heist and everyone thought you were in with them. You know what Mom would do, don’t you?”
“You mean besides giving me a slap on the back of my head?” Nick said sarcastically. Veronica just stood and stared at her wise-cracking brother. Nick shifted in his seat and finally added, “She’d most likely want to prove that I wasn’t. Okay, I get it, but how do you think you’re you going to prove that after so many years have gone by? The trail’s not only cold; it’s got icicles on it.”
“Just because nobody else ever bothered to look into it doesn’t mean we won’t find something,” Veronica said. “We have a name to go on now and the other three names will be in the newspaper article online. It shouldn’t take much from there to connect the dots, so to speak, or in this case, disconnect one set of dots from the others.”
“Knock yourself out,” Nick said, turning back to his own tasks.
Veronica turned to her father. “Which part do you want to start with, Dad?”
Matt settled into his chair, thought a
bout it for a moment and said, “I think I’ll start with the guy your mother and I found in the woods. Nick, why don’t you see what you can find out about the two other passengers? Veronica, suppose you see what you can find out about Robby or Robert Wells.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Veronica said and retreated to her laptop. She opened her search engine and typed in Robby Wells and got a hit immediately. His name was mentioned in the recent article about the ‘65 Pontiac Catalina sedan being found in the underbrush with three skeletons in it. Other than two other names, the article didn’t go into any background on any of the car’s occupants but just gave the facts in the case as relayed by the local police department. “You looking at that recent article?” Veronica said to her father.
“Got it right in front of me,” Matt said. “It doesn’t mention the guy from the woods or the bank bag.”
“That part may not have made it into this article,” Veronica said. “Remember, that happened a day later. Check the next day’s edition.”
Matt changed the date of his search criteria ahead one day and found the follow-up article that mentioned the man found with the bank bag. His name, according to the article, was Clarence Abbott, 39 of Los Angeles. The article went on to mention the canvas bank bag that was found with his body and how the Victorville Bank had been notified, since the company that insured that particular bank had gone out of business more than eighteen years earlier. According to the article, Clarence Abbot had been sought by local police for a string of filling station robberies. Known accomplices of Abbott included Ralph Whitaker, 37 and Morgan Bellamy, 41 also from the Los Angeles area. There was no mention of Robert Wells of having been in with that bunch.
“What did you find on Robby Wells?” Matt said, looking to his daughter for an answer.
“They didn’t give much,” Veronica said. “Just his name and age and…”
“How old was he at the time?” Matt asked.
“According to this article,” Veronica said, “Wells was just twenty-seven. He attended U.C.L.A. for six years and had taken several law enforcement courses along with psychology and sociology, getting his master’s degree in psychology. That’s about all they had on him.”