As I neared the building the same street person who usually approached me on my way to work walked up with his hand out and asked for spare change. I waved him off and the man turned to walk away. Immediately I had a change of heart and called out to the man. The man turned back and saw me motioning to him. He hurried back to my side.
I dug into my pocket and found the thirteen dollars I still had left. I peeled off a single dollar bill and the man’s eyes lit up. I then pocketed the dollar and gave the man the other twelve, patting him on the shoulder.
“Get yourself a good meal tonight,” I told the man.
“Oh, bless you, sir. Bless you,” the man said smiling broadly. He walked away and stopped to turn back to say more to me, but I had already gone on my way.
I walked into the lobby and over to the elevator. I stepped inside, pushed the button for my floor and sighed. It had been one hell of a day and I was anxious to reclaim my former life.
I quickly took a seat behind my desk, leaned back and put my feet up. Something jingled in my pants pocket and I reached in and pulled out one dollar and seventeen cents. I laid it on my desk and leaned back in my chair again, tilting my head back. After a moment I sat up straight again and looked down at the money.
To hell with the bet. That would be enough for Hugh’s first free lunch. That is, if I could take him to the Pizza-By-The-Slice place in Hollywood.
45 - Cooper And Partner
It was Sunday, I was relaxing at home on the one and only day I could relax. The family business had grown to the point where Dad and I even had to work occasional Saturdays just to meet the demands for our private investigator services. My grandfather, Matt Cooper, had started the business back in 1946, after leaving his job with the Los Angeles Police Department. His son and my father, Clay Cooper, joined Grandpa in the business in 1971 and took over the business in the late seventies, finally allowing Grandpa to retire.
Dad was creeping up on retirement age himself and I knew that sometime in the near future I’d be taking over the business myself. The problem there was that I wasn’t married and had no son to pass the family business on to when it came time for me to retire, which wasn’t even a possibility for another thirty-five years or so.
I was sitting in my recliner watching 60 Minutes when the phone rang in my robe pocket. I retrieved it, flipped it open and saw that it was Dad calling.
“Cooper residence,” I said, trying to sound like the hired help I didn’t have. “Elliott speaking.”
“Cute,” Dad said. “Why don’t you get yourself a real butler and do it up right? Maybe he can even wipe your nose for you.”
“Whoa,” I said. “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. What’s up with you?”
“Sorry,” Dad said. “I’m just not feeling up to par today. Anyway, the reason I called is to tell you that I’ll be in the office at the usual time tomorrow morning, but that I have to take a longer lunch hour.”
“Really?” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, really,” Dad said. “I have an appointment with Doctor Wilson at noon and it may take a little longer than my usual hour. That’s all.”
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Sure,” Dad said. “It’s just my annual physical and Doc Wilson said he wanted to do a more extensive workup this time. You know how it is; he probably has a boat payment coming due and needs to pad the bill a little.”
“So, what do you care?” I said. “Your insurance will pick up the tab.”
“I know,” Dad said. “I just hate the idea of the rubber glove treatment. I feel so cheap and violated when it’s over.”
“Well,” I said, “when he gets to that point, just turn your head back, look him in the eye and say something like, ‘I knew there was a glamorous side to your job, Doc,’ and then just laugh it off. I’m sure it’s no picnic for him, either.”
“I know,” Dad said, “but it the whole idea of...well, never mind. I’ll just be glad when it’s over and I can put it behind me, so to speak, for another year.”
“So then I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” I said.
“Nine o’clock sharp,” Dad said and hung up.
The next morning I got to the office at eight forty-five and started going through yesterday’s mail. I immediately threw out the envelope with PCH in the return address section. There was no way I was going to win any Publisher’s Clearing House contest anyway. I also threw out the small manila envelope from the local car dealership. My car was working just fine, thank you. There was nothing else in the pile that needed my immediate attention so I set the mail on the corner of my desk and picked up the morning paper.
I glanced up at the wall clock over the door. It was seven minutes past nine. I wondered if Dad overslept or got delayed on his way to work. I set the paper down when I heard the elevator door open. I listened for footsteps but heard none. My curiosity got the best of me and I got up from my swivel chair and walked to the inner office door and listened some more. I didn’t hear anything except the faint dinging sound that the elevator makes when someone on another floor wants it. The dinging noise didn’t stop and that prompted me to step out into the hall and take a look.
The elevator was down at the other end of the hall. I peeked out my outer office door and saw that the elevator door was still open. At floor level, I saw something small and black. I couldn’t make it out so I walked down the hall toward the elevator and when I got halfway to the elevator, I could see that the object was the bottom of a shoe. Panic set in and I ran the rest of the way, only to find Dad lying on the floor of the elevator. His right hand was clamped over his left arm and his face was ashen.
I knelt beside him. “Dad,” I said. “Dad, are you all right?” He didn’t answer. I pulled him all the way into the elevator and we rode it to the lobby. Once I was on the ground floor, I pulled Dad out of the elevator and laid him out of the way while I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1,” the operator said. “What is your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance,” I said. “My dad’s having a heart attack, hurry.” I gave her the address and she instructed me to stay on the line until they arrived. She told me what to do for him, but at this point, about all I could do was loosen his tie and unbutton his collar and see that he was comfortable. The next three and a half minutes were arguably the longest of my life but soon the front door to my building opened and two men in white hurried in pulling a gurney behind them.
They got Dad stabilized and loaded onto the gurney and hurried back out to the ambulance. I rode with him back to the hospital. I looked at the ambulance attendant and said, “Is he going to be all right?”
“Hard to tell at this point,” the attendant said, “but it looks like you called us in time. He’ll get the best care available, I can promise you that. Your doctor will be able to tell you more once he’s examined him.”
They wheeled Dad into the emergency room and drew the curtain closed around his gurney as they worked on him. I sat nervously in the waiting room, pulling on a loose hair from my eyebrow. I picked up a magazine but couldn’t concentrate on anything in it and laid it down again. The elevator opened and Lieutenant Dean Hollister, one of Dad’s close friends from the L.A.P.D., hurried over to where I was sitting.
“How’s he doing?” Dean said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “They brought him in twenty minutes ago and said they’d let me know. I’m still waiting.”
“What happened?” Dean said.
“I think it was a heart attack,” I said. “I found him lying in the elevator this morning,”
“He’s a tough old bird,” Dean said. “He’ll be just fine, you’ll see.”
“I sure hope so,” I said.
The door to the emergency room opened and Doctor Wilson stepped out and came toward me, pulling off his mask and scrub hat.
“How is he?” I said.
The doctor nodded. “He’ll be just fine,” he
said. “He’s going to need to stay here for a few days so we can monitor his condition. Then he should be able to go home and rest there.”
“Was it a heart attack?” Dean said.
The doctor looked at Dean and then at me. “I’m sorry, Doctor Wilson, this is Dean Hollister, one of Dad’s friends. Dean, this is Dad’s doctor, Doctor Wilson.”
The two men shook hands briefly before the doctor turned to me and said, “It was a mild heart attack,” he said. “He’s lucky someone was nearby to get him help. The next time he might not be so lucky.”
“There could be a next time?” I said. “How bad is he?”
“I’ve seen worse,” the doctor said, “but your dad is going to have to change a few of his habits if he wants to avoid another episode like this one. He’s going to have to cut out fatty foods and fried foods and he’s going to have to get his cholesterol levels down. He’s going to need some help making sure he eats right and exercises regularly.”
“I can do that,” I said. “Dad will stay with me for a while. How long will he need to rest?”
The doctor took a deep breath and let it out. “A couple of months at least. I’ll do a follow up in a couple of days and every week after that but the prognosis in his case is looking good.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, shaking his hand.
The doctor walked back down the hall and disappeared through a pair of double swing doors. I turned to Dean. “Thanks for coming down here,” I said. “I’m sure Dad would like to see you when they bring him down to recovery.”
“Where else would I be?” Dean said. “Your dad and I go way back.”
“I know,” I said. “And I appreciate you being here.”
“What are you going to do about the business?” Dean said.
I knew I could probably run the investigations business alone, but Dad had been very helpful during those times when it took a minimum of two people to get the job done. “I should be all right by myself for a while,” I said. “I can always bring in some temporary help if I need it. I’ll get someone to stay with Dad as long as he needs it.”
“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Dean said.
Forty minutes later Dean and I entered Dad’s hospital room. He was sitting up in bed, an oxygen tube running around his head and under his nose. His color had come back and he looked a lot healthier that he had an hour ago. Dean and I approached the bed.
“How you doing, old man?” Dean said.
Dad shrugged. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about," he said. "I feel fine.”
“Dad,” I said. “You had a heart attack.”
“Is that all?” Dad said. “Hell, for a minute there I thought it was something serious.”
“Clay,” Dean said, “You have to take this more seriously. You could have died.”
“But I didn’t,” Dad said. “It takes more than some old myocardial infarction to keep me down.”
“Still,” I said. “You’re going to have to change your ways if you want to dance at your granddaughter’s wedding.”
“What granddaughter?” Dad said. “You’re not even married yet.”
“Still,” I said, “someday you may have a granddaughter and you’ll certainly want to be there for the wedding, so you’d better take care of yourself. And I’m going to see to it that you do.”
“Bully,” Dad said, and then winked at me. “Oh, all right, I’m in your hands.”
“That’s more like it,” I said.
Dean and I stayed at Dad’s bedside for another half hour before the nurse came in and told us we’d have to leave. She reminded us that Dad needed his rest. We agreed, said goodbye to Dad and left the room.
Out in the hall Dean turned to me and said, “I have to get back to the office, but you be sure and let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“I will,” I said. “And thanks for coming down.”
Dean drove back to the precinct and I drove back to my office. I sat behind my desk and suddenly the room seemed very empty without Dad there. I’d spent many a day alone in this office while Dad was off doing something else, but today there was a void that seemed to echo off the walls in this little office.
When Dad was released from the hospital after three days of observation, I hired a woman to stay with him at my house. She made sure he didn’t exert himself and saw to it that he ate properly and had everything he needed. For the next two weeks, I continued running the P.I. business alone and found it harder and harder to do certain tasks by myself. I decided that I’d put an ad in the paper to try to find some temporary help.
The ad had been running for two days without any responses. On the third day, my phone still had not rung but I did get a knock on my office door.
“Come in,” I said from my chair.
The door opened and a good-looking woman, perhaps thirty, came in carrying a manila folder and a folded newspaper under her arm. She closed the door behind her and I got up to meet her.
“Elliott Cooper,” I said, extending my hand.
“Gloria Campbell,” she said, shaking my hand.
“Won’t you have a seat?” I said, pointing to my client’s chair.
Gloria sat and folded her hands in her lap, the paper and the folder beneath them.
I sat behind my desk and took out my yellow legal pad and pencil. “So what kind of problem can I help you with today, Mrs. Campbell?” I said.
“It’s Miss Campbell,” Gloria said.
“All right,” I said. “What kind of problems brought you to Cooper Investigations today?”
Gloria gave me a strange look and then picked up the paper. “I don’t need a private investigator,” she said, laying the paper in front of me, open to my help wanted ad. “I’m here about the job you advertised in the Times. It says here you need some help for a while.”
I set my pencil down and sat up straight. “I’m sorry, Miss Campbell,” I said. “I probably should have been more specific with the ad. I don’t need a secretary. I’m looking for some temporary help with the investigations part of my business.”
“Yes,” Gloria said. “And I’m applying for it.”
“But I need a P.I.,” I said.
“I am one,” Gloria said, pulling her wallet from her purse and flipping it open to her P.I. license and identification card.
I looked them over and then up at Gloria, who was smiling now.
“You?” I said, somewhat taken by surprise.
Gloria nodded and softly said, “Me.”
“But…” I said.
“But you’re looking for a man,” Gloria said. “Is that it?”
“Well, I…” I said.
“Well, what?” Gloria said. “I’m licensed and qualified, in some cases better than any man. I’ll bet you’ve had cases where a woman could have gotten information that a man couldn’t. I’ll bet a woman could get into some places that a man couldn’t. And I’ll bet a woman works better as half an undercover couple than two men, unless you’re working undercover in San Francisco. Am I right?”
“I, uh…” I said. “I guess there’s something to what you say, but…”
“But you think I can’t handle myself like a man can,” she said. “Is that it? Well, let me assure you that I not only completed a course on the pistol range, I finished second in my class for marksmanship. I have a black belt in Tai-Kwon-Do and I can take down men twice my size. I’m professional and discreet and experienced.”
I pursed my lips, at a loss for words.
“And if that’s not enough,” Gloria said, “I’m a master at make-up and disguises. So, Mr. Cooper, what other objection might you have to hiring a woman?”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “I only have the one bathroom?” I said, pointing to my office bathroom and trying to lighten the tone.
“Seriously,” Gloria said.
“None, I guess,” I said. “But if you have all these qualifications and a license and skills, why haven’t you open
ed your own investigation business?”
Gloria’s head dropped and she sighed. “I was in one with my father, until he was shot and killed last month. The business kind of fell apart after Dad died and I didn’t have enough collateral to get a loan from the bank to keep the business going without him.”
I remembered reading about one of my colleagues being killed not too long ago. The dime rolled toward the slot and dropped. “Was your dad by any chance Ross Campbell?”
Gloria nodded. “That’s Dad, or that was Dad,” she said.
She had my attention now. “I knew him, somewhat,” I said. “I think I met him at one of the P.I. conventions in Las Vegas a couple of years ago. I didn’t see you there, though. I think I’d have remembered you.”
“Dad went alone,” Gloria explained. “I had to stay here and keep the business going while he was gone.”
“Your dad was one of our major competitors,” I said. “More than once I’d lost a client to him.”
“And he mentioned your name more than once,” she said. “You ended up with some of our clients, too, so I guess it all came out even.”
“I suppose so,” I said. “So tell me, did you have to close up the office after Ross died?”
“Just last week,” Gloria said. “I tied up the almost all of Dad’s loose ends and locked the place up for the last time. It was strange not going in any more after all those years. I really miss it and I want to get back into it. So, Mr. Cooper, maybe we can help each other out here. What do you think?”
Without answering, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I’d become familiar with recently. “Hello,” I said, “This is Elliott Cooper from Cooper Investigations. Yes, I’d like to cancel my help want ad. Thank you. Just send me the bill.”
I hung up the phone and winked at Gloria. “All right,” I said. “We’ll give it a try.”
I stood up, as did Gloria. She extended her hand and said, “So, when would you like me to start?”
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 150