The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

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The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 75

by Bernico, Bill


  He brought his hands up, breaking the grip I had on his lapels. His right hand clenched up into a fist and he slammed it hard into my gut. His left hand brought up another fist and he caught me on the side of my head. I staggered back, shook it off and came back at him swinging. I connected with his kidney with a right uppercut and followed it with three quick punches to his neck as he doubled over. He fell like a marionette with his strings cut. As he hit the pavement I saw his hand dart into his coat. Before he could pull his gun out I had mine trained on his head.

  “Uh uh,” I said, waving my barrel. “Hand it over, butt first.”

  The fight fell off his face and he turned the gun around, handing it to me. I took it from him and stuffed it in my belt. I gestured with my gun.

  “Come on, on your feet,” I said, keeping my gun trained on him. “Give me your wallet.” I held my hand out and snapped my fingers.

  The man reached into his coat and withdrew a calfskin wallet and handed it over. I flipped it open and looked at the name on the driver’s license that sat under the celluloid window.

  “Gordon McKenzie, eh?” I checked the address, flipped the wallet closed and threw it back at him. He tucked it back into his pocket and glared at me. I pulled his gun out of my belt, flipped the cylinder open and dumped the shells out on the pavement. I handed the gun back to him. “Put it away and don’t act so stupid, Gordy.”

  Gordy returned his gun to the holster beneath his arm and buttoned his coat, trying to straighten himself up and look presentable. He continued staring at me but I let him squirm for a few more seconds before I broke the silence.

  “All right, Gordy, why were you following me?”

  Gordy’s eyes darted this way and that and he sighed.

  “Come on, Gordy,” I said. “You’re gonna tell me sooner or later. Might as well save yourself some time and a few more lumps if you don’t talk.”

  “You’re Matt Cooper, aren’t you?” Gordy said.

  “That’s right. What about it?”

  He stalled a while longer before offering, “It’s just a job, see? Some guy hired me to rough you up and get his money back. That’s all. Said there’d be a few bucks in it for me.”

  “And just why does this guy think I have his money?”

  “All I know is he said he hired you, gave you some money and then you took off with it and he was pissed. And that was a week ago. I’ve been looking for you for a couple of days now.”

  “I’ve been out of town,” I said. “And not that it makes any difference to you, but the guy who your friend gave his money to was not me. I’ve been out of town for a week and when I got back I’d heard that someone was going around town posing as me.”

  Gordy looked at me, not sure he believed me.

  I nodded. “It’s true. So you can stop tailing me. I’m looking for the same guy you are and heaven help him when I catch up with him.”

  “You’re on the level, aren’t you?” Gordy said.

  I made a fist with my left hand and knocked on Gordy’s head with my knuckles. “Anyone at home? Is it sinking in now? I’m not the guy you want.”

  Gordy rubbed his head where I’d tapped him.

  “You wanna tell me who hired you?” I said. “Maybe he can give me a description of the guy he gave his money to and between the three of us, we can find this impersonator and hang him up by his heels until his money falls out. “Then everyone’ll be happy.”

  Gordy thought about it for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

  I holstered my gun and gestured with my open palm for Gordy to exit the alley. I followed close behind. On the street I pointed to my car and said, “Get in. I’ll drive.”

  Gordy slid in and I got behind the wheel and started the engine. “Where are we going?” I said.

  “Burbank,” Gordy said. “Over on Alameda. I’ll give you the address when we get closer.”

  I drove up toward Burbank with Gordy staring out his window. He said nothing for the first few minutes before turning toward me.

  “Where were you?”

  “Huh?” I said, not taking my eyes off the road.

  “Said you were gone for a week,” Gordy said. “Where were you?”

  “Palm Springs.”

  “Must be nice to afford a week in Palm Springs on what a gumshoe makes.”

  “Didn’t cost me a dime. I won it in a drawing. First thing I’ve ever won.”

  “You don’t sound too thrilled,” Gordy said.

  “I’m not much of a traveler. I prefer to stick around home. I couldn’t wait for the week to be done so I could get back to my own bed.”

  “Next time you win a Palm Springs weekend you can give it to me if you don’t wanna go.”

  “Next time,” I said.

  “Right here,” Gordy said.

  “What?”

  “Turn right here,” Gordy repeated. “Two more blocks. The house on the right with the green shutters.”

  I pulled up to the curb and we both got out, Gordy leading the way up the sidewalk to the house with the green shutters. We stepped up onto the porch and Gordy knocked on the doorframe. The door opened and a man in a strapped tee shirt and slacks peered out at us. He looked suspiciously at me, but relaxed his face when he saw Gordy.

  The man gestured with his chin toward me. “Who’s this?”

  I held my hand out and he reached to shake it. “Matt Cooper,” I said. The man looked at me like I’d returned from the dead and withdrew his hand. He looked over at Gordy.

  “What is this, Gordy? This ain’t Cooper.”

  I crossed two fingers over my heart. “I swear it’s me. Ask Gordy.”

  Gordy nodded. “Luther, this is Matt Cooper. The real Matt Cooper.”

  “What’s going on here?” Luther said. “This ain’t the guy I hired. The guy I hired was shorter and thinner and had a mustache. He didn’t look nothin’ like this guy, whoever he is.”

  I looked Luther in the eye. “You’re not listening, Luther. I am Matt Cooper, the one and only original genuine article. Accept no substitutions. Is it sinking in yet? You gave your money to a phony, a fake, an impersonator, a ringer. But you didn’t hire me. Someone took you for a ride, Luther.”

  Luther looked like he was gonna be sick. “You mean my money’s gone?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Gordy said. “Matt here, the real Matt, says that between the three of us we should be able to find the guy who took your money.”

  The realization of the situation finally took root in Luther’s head. He pulled his door open all the way and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

  Luther led us into the kitchen and offered us a chair at the kitchen table. He opened the icebox door and looked in. “You guys want a beer?”

  Gordy took one but I waved him off. “No thanks,” I said.

  Luther pulled a chair out and sat, setting his beer on the table. He looked at me. “So you really think I can get my money back?”

  “First we have to find him,” I said. “Tell me everything you know and don’t leave anything out, no matter how trivial you might think it seems. When did you give this guy, who you thought was me, the money?”

  Luther thought for a second. “Last week Monday. It was probably three, three-thirty, something like that.”

  “Where was this?” I said.

  “Some office building over on Hollywood Boulevard,” Luther said. He described the neighborhood and named the closest cross street.

  “That sounds like my office,” I said. “What did you see in the office?”

  Luther shook his head. “That’s just it. I never got into the office.”

  “Hold on a minute,” I said. “You hired a private eye and didn’t get inside the office? What, was he working out of the back of his car?”

  “No,” Luther said. “He was coming out of the building and I stopped him and asked where Matt Cooper’s office was.”

  “And what’d he say,” I said.

  �
�He told me he was Matt Cooper and that he was just on his way out. But he did spend a few minutes talking to me just inside the door, you know, where the mailboxes are.”

  I nodded. “What was it you wanted to hire a private eye to do?”

  Luther took a swallow from his beer bottle. “I wanted him to follow a guy and tell me where he went. That’s all.”

  I scratched my neck. “Just a simple tail job? That shouldn’t have cost you too much.”

  “A hundred bucks,” Luther said.

  “That’s high,” I said.

  “That’s what I thought, but this guy Cooper promised he could get the job done all in one day and that he could give me a full report by noon the next day. That would have been Tuesday.”

  “Can I ask you who it was you wanted followed?” I said.

  “I guess,” Luther said. “Ain’t no big secret. Guy’s name was Darnell, Ray Darnell.”

  That shook me. “Did you say Darnell?”

  Luther nodded and took another swallow of beer.

  “Why was it you needed to know where he went?” I said.

  “I got wind that this Darnell character was seeing my wife and I wanted to find out if it was true.”

  “What did you plan to do when you found him?” I said.

  “Probably wring his neck,” Luther said. “What would you do?”

  “And did you find this Darnell?” I said.

  “No,” Luther said. “And I never heard from that Cooper character again, either.” He looked at me and then added, “I meant that other Cooper character.”

  “There is no other Cooper,” I reminded him. “He was a phony, remember?”

  Luther thought for a second. “Why are you so interested in Ray Darnell? He’s my problem. Well, that and my money.”

  “Darnell is dead,” I said.

  Luther and Gordy both flinched as if on cue. Luther’s eyebrow shot up. “What? Dead, you say? When was this?”

  “He was found last Wednesday morning, apparently shot sometime Tuesday night. I guess you can see why the time frame is significant.”

  Gordy spoke up. “And you think this ringer of yours shot him?”

  “It all adds up,” I said. “And since I wasn’t even in town I know that I didn’t shoot him. It’s the kind of thing I’d remember. So can you give me a more detailed description of this guy you thought was me?”

  Luther took another drink from his beer bottle. “Well, like I said earlier, he was shorter than you by a couple of inches.”

  I took my notepad out of my pocket and wrote five-nine to five ten. “Go on.”

  He wore a hat, but I could see the hair sticking out under the rim. It was jet black. Couldn’t miss it.”

  I added the hair color to my notes. “What about his eyes? Did you get a look at them?”

  “Brown,” Luther said. “And he had a mustache. I think I mentioned that before. It was one of those Boston Blackie mustaches. You know, real thin.”

  I wrote Boston Blackie mustache on the pad. “Any guess as to his weight?”

  “I’d say one-forty, one-fifty maybe.”

  “One last thing,” I said. “Did he have any unusual characteristics? That is, did he have any scars, tattoos, walk with a limp, anything like that?”

  Luther thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No, sorry. He was just another guy that I saw just that one time.”

  “When he left,” I said,” did you notice if he got into a car or walked away?”

  “He just walked away,” Luther said. “But I thought of one more question after he left and when I turned around I saw a car pulling away form the curb. I can’t swear he was in it, but I didn’t see him on the street after that.”

  “Did you notice what kind of car?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Luther said. “They all kind of look the same to me. But I do know it was a burgundy color. I thought that was a little odd. Most of the other cars on the street were black so this one stood out a little.”

  I noted the car color in my pad and closed it, returning it to my pocket.

  “Are we about done here?” Gordy said.

  “You got something better to do?” Luther said.

  Gordy shook his head. “No, but I ain’t makin’ any money sittin’ here. Oh, and speaking of money,” he said, holding his palm out to Luther, “you owe me some money.”

  Luther looked at me and then at Gordy. “If you remember, I hired you to get my money back from Cooper, er, I mean that other Cooper. Did you get it?”

  Gordy dropped his hand. “No, but I still worked at it for a while. That’s gotta be worth something.”

  “If and when we, and I mean the three of us, find this jerk and if I get my money back, and if you are the one who gets it, then I’ll pay you,” Luther said.

  I rose from my chair and looked at Luther. “You’re going to have to talk with Sergeant Hollister at the twelfth precinct. He’s the cop who’s working on the Darnell case. He’ll want to know what you know. Gordy and I are going there. You can ride with us or follow us if you like. But we’re leaving now, so make up your mind.”

  “I’ll ride with you.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  Dan was in his office and invited the three of us to sit. He started his questions with me.

  “Who do we have here, Matt?” Dan said.

  I introduced Luther and Gordy and filled him in on what they’d each told me about Raymond Darnell and the guy who’d been impersonating me. When I finished, Dan looked at Luther and said, “Sounds like you’re the only one who got a look at this guy.”

  Luther nodded. “Yeah, and he’s got my money. I want it back.”

  “We’ll get to that,” Dan said. “First we have to catch him and then we have to get to the truth regarding Ray Darnell’s death. Then we’ll worry about your money.”

  Dan turned to me and gestured toward Gordy. “Matt, you wanna press charges against Mr. McKenzie for assault and battery?”

  I looked at Gordy but spoke to Dan. “Life’s too short to be pressing charges. Give him a pass this time.”

  “You heard the man,” Dan said. “But if we find you’re involved in any more strong-arm incidents, we’ll come looking for you.” Dan turned to Luther. “And you, I’d like you to sit down with our police artist and give him a detailed description of this guy you gave your money to. Once we have that we can start making the rounds to see if anyone recognizes him.”

  Gordy rose from his chair. “Well, I guess I’ll be going then.” He turned to me. “Can you give me a lift back to Hollywood?”

  I said I could and turned to Dan. “When you’re finished with Luther and the artist, I’d like to take him back and try retracing the guy’s steps. Maybe something’ll shake loose.”

  “Give me forty-five minutes or so and he’s all yours,” Dan said. He led Luther down the hall while Gordy and I returned to my car and drove back toward my office. I dropped him at the curb and sped away without another word. By the time I got back to the precinct, Dan and the police sketch artist had finished with Luther and they had a finished rendering of the guy who’d posed as me and fleeced Luther out of his money. The guy was most likely also the same guy who murdered Ray Darnell with my gun.

  Dan had someone in the office run off a dozen copies of the sketch and gave them to me. Luther and I returned to my car and we drove back to Hollywood. I parked my car and the two of us walked up to the front of my building. I pointed to the front door.

  “You say he was coming out of here when you first saw him?”

  Luther thought back a week and then said, “Yeah. I was going in and he was coming out and our shoulders bumped right here.” He pointed to a spot just inside the door.

  “Didn’t you think it a bit strange that he didn’t conduct business in his office?”

  “Well,” Luther said, “He told me he was on his way out and didn’t think he could take on another client just then. But when I flashed a roll of bills at him, his att
itude changed and he agreed to talk to me right there in the doorway.”

  “So you gave him a retainer. Did he write you out a receipt?”

  Luther shook his head. “No, he said his receipt book was up in his office and that I could stop back the next day for it.”

  “And did you?”

  “Yeah, but the office was dark and locked up tighter than a drum. I went down to the street and found a pay phone and called your number. You can guess what happened.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s check the neighborhood and see if anyone recognized the burgundy car or him,” I said, pointing at the sketch.

  I gave Luther a couple copies of the sketch and gestured toward the other side of the street. “You start on that side, and I’ll canvass this side. Let me know if anyone recognizes him.”

  Luther nodded agreement and crossed the street, starting with a bookstore on the corner. I walked into the door next to my building. It was a barbershop. The bell above the door tinkled as I entered. A fat man was tilted back in the chair, a white pinstriped cloth draped over his body. A towel wrapped in a circle obscured his face. The barber stood behind him. He looked up at me.

  “Be with you in a minute, Matt. Can you wait?”

  “Not here for a haircut, Artie,” I said. “Just looking for a little information if you have a minute.”

  Artie pulled the towel off the man’s face and lathered it up with a brush he’d been swiping around inside a foamy mug. “Make it quick, Matt. Once I start with the straight razor, I need to concentrate.”

  I held up the sketch so Artie could see it. “Ever seen this guy around the neighborhood? This would have been five or six days ago and I think he might have been out front here and possibly driving a burgundy sedan.”

  Artie brushed the lather on the customer’s face and glanced at the sketch. He looked for a few seconds and then shook his head. “Doesn’t ring any bells,” Artie said. “But then again I might have been busy with a customer or facing away from the window. Sorry, Matt.”

 

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