Gloria looked at me sideways. “By six o’clock I’ve usually already had breakfast, jogged two miles and showered. You, on the other hand...”
“What about me?” I said. “I’m always here on time.”
“Which means you probably roll out of the sack around eight, have your donut and coffee, read the paper and roll in here just before nine,” Gloria said sarcastically. “You really have to switch trainers.”
“I tried jogging a while ago,” I said. “After three blocks I realized that I’m not a jogger. I’m a donut and newspaper kind of guy and that suits me just fine.”
“And this conversation is fruitless,” Gloria said. “We’re not driving, we’re taking the train so why even get into it?”
“No reason,” I said. “You know what, forget I mentioned it.”
“Mentioned what?” Gloria said.
I started to repeat myself and then realized I’d been outwitted.
Shortly before four o’clock the next day I walked into the office to find Gloria already there. She was sitting behind her desk browsing the internet on her laptop. She looked up when she heard the office door open.
“Seems like we just left here,” I said.
“We did,” Gloria said. “Two hours ago. I wonder why they don’t offer a morning schedule for the train trip.”
“I’m sure they’ve got it all figured out,” I said. “After a hundred and some years of train trips back and forth to the east, they probably discovered that this is the highest profit schedule. Either that, or the big shots running the railroads don’t like to get up early. Who knows?”
Gloria closed the cover on her laptop and slipped it into the leather case that she used for carrying the computer around with her. “Shall we go?” she said.
“You’re taking your laptop along?” I said.
“Sure, why not?” Gloria said. “When the trip starts to get boring, let’s say, as we’re pulling out of Union Station, I can always play solitaire on it.”
“Gees,” I said, “You’re going into this with an open mind, aren’t you?”
“Just being practical,” Gloria said. “You want to leave your car here and ride with me?”
“Makes more sense,” I said. “I only have to transfer my one small bag to your Jeep. You’d probably have to move a dozen bags to my car.”
Gloria looked at me out of the corner of her eyes. “You must have me confused with some shallow, superficial, self-absorbed woman,” she said. “Remember, I’m the practical one.”
“Whatever,” I said, locking the door behind us and walking toward the elevator.
In the parking lot behind my building, I retrieved my suitcase and tossed in the back of Gloria’s Jeep, next to her one suitcase. I climbed in next to her and we headed off to Union Station. Gloria let me off at the front door along with our two bags and then parked her Jeep in the lot. She met me at the front door and then looked up at the clock tower alongside the main entrance. It was just four-thirty and it had begun to rain. I carried the bags inside and set them down near the ticket counter.
“Can I help you?” the ticket man said.
“Two tickets to Winslow, Arizona,” I said, digging my wallet out of my back pocket. I paid the man for the tickets, slipped them into my coat pocket and picked up our bags.
“We might as well find a seat,” Gloria said. “We’re here almost two hours early. And why is that?”
“I don’t take the train every day,” I said. “In fact, this will be my first trip anywhere by train. I just figured you had to be here ahead of time, like at the airport. If you wanna go jog your two miles, now would be a good time. I’ll wait here for you with my donut.”
“Does that run in your family?” Gloria said.
“What’s that?” I said.
“Sarcasm,” Gloria said. “You seem to be full of it lately.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “How about if we just sit here and try to relax before we have to board the train?”
“And do what?” Gloria said.
I thought for a moment and offered, “How about if we just people watch for a while. You’d be surprised how much entertainment value there is in that.”
“Entertainment?” Gloria said. “What’s entertaining about watching people just like us sit around?”
“Just like us?” I said. “I don’t think so. For example, take a look at the couple over by the coffee concession. You can tell who wears the pants in that family. The look on that poor guy’s face tells a story all by itself.”
“A story?” Gloria said. “And what story are you getting out of watching them?”
“All right,” I said. “Even without hearing their conversation, I’ll bet she’s chewing him a new one for some minor infraction of her rules. Look at his face. Inside he’s steaming, but outside he’s trying his darndest to keep from telling her to drop dead.”
“And that’s what you get from a ten second glimpse of some unknown couple?” Gloria said.
“Well,” I added, “At least I can look at him and say, ‘That’s not me’. Oh yeah, I wanna rush off and get married, all right.”
“Okay,” Gloria said. “Even if that’s what’s going on with those two, that doesn’t mean it happens with every couple. What about the situations where the wife is physically abused and the guy has the upper hand? You think that’s a picnic for the woman?”
“Maybe not.” I said. “But nobody’s making that particular woman stick around for more. If she doesn’t want to be anyone’s punching bag, she could always just walk away.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Gloria said. Those kind of women are usually dependant on the husband. They’re more often than not, undereducated, unskilled and couldn’t make it on their own, so they’re stuck.”
“Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry I brought it up. Let’s look for another couple and then you can tell me what you see just by looking at them.”
“All right,” Gloria said, scanning the people in the waiting room.
There were people sitting behind us that we could hear but not see and we didn’t want to turn around and stare at them. Their conversation was getting louder and we couldn’t help but overhear the woman.
I could hear her say, “Give it to me, come on, give it to me. I’m so wet.”
I turned to Gloria and snickered. She elbowed me in the ribs and cocked her head to hear the man’s reply.
The man said, “Shhh, you’re making a scene.”
The unseen woman repeated, “Come on, give it to me. I can’t get much wetter.”
The man replied, “Well, then if you can’t get much wetter, why should I give you my umbrella? Come on, Phyllis, let’s get out to the car before it really starts to come down.”
Gloria broke out in full laughter at the punch line. She wrapped her arms around mine and leaned into me, convulsing silently.
“Didn’t I tell you this was entertainment?” I said. I checked my watch. Our train still wouldn’t be pulling out of the station for another hour and a half. I turned to Gloria. “You want some coffee?”
“Sounds good to me,” she said. “Cream, no sugar.”
I got her a coffee and got myself a diet soda. We sat there on the bench in relative silence.
Finally, Gloria said, “So how do you know this guy we’re going to meet?”
“Ernie?” I said. “Dad told me about Ernie a couple of years ago when he was working a case that involved an Arizona bail jumper. Ernie was a bail bondsman and bounty hunter from Phoenix and his client had jumped bail and headed for L.A. Ernie hired Dad to track the guy down and let him know where he could find him. Dad found the guy in a flop house on Western and Hollywood and called Ernie. Ernie came to L.A. himself to bring his bail jumper back to Phoenix. He and Dad stayed in touch after that.”
“Why didn’t your dad just bring the guy in?” Gloria said.
“Bounty hunters can do that,” I explained. “Private detectives can’t. There’s an old law on the books that al
lows bounty hunters to detain, capture and even extradite fugitives with impunity. A bounty hunter can enter the fugitive’s private property without a warrant in order to execute a re-arrest. But they can’t enter the property of anyone other than the fugitive without a warrant or the owner’s permission.”
“How do you know all this?” Gloria said.
“Dad told me after Ernie hired him to find the bail jumper,” I said. “At one time, Dad was thinking about expanding our investigations business to include bounty hunting. A bounty hunter can collect ten per cent of the bail that was originally posted and in some capital cases that can run into big bucks.”
“What happened?” Gloria said. “I mean, bounty hunting is not part of your business today, is it?”
“No,” I explained. “Dad and I talked about it and decided to stick with what we know best. What about your dad? How long was he in the business?”
Gloria thought for a moment. “Let’s see, Dad started his investigation business when I was six or seven,” she said. “That would have been sometime in the late eighties. Yeah, 1988. I remember ‘cause I was in first grade when he moved us from Bakersfield to Los Angeles. I guess there wasn’t much call for a P.I. in Bakersfield.”
“And when did you know that’s what you wanted to do?” I said.
Gloria smiled with nostalgia. “It was the summer after I finished college. That would have been eight years ago. Here I was with my college degree and still not knowing what I wanted to do with my life. That summer Dad let me tag along with him on a couple of cases. I guess he just needed a driver or a gopher or maybe he just wanted some company. Anyway, once I saw what his job involved, I was hooked. I got whatever else I needed to join Dad in the business and never regretted it for a minute.”
“What was your major?’ I said.
“My major what?” Gloria said.
“Your major in college,” I said. “What course were you aiming for?”
“Social work,” Gloria said. “Can you believe it? Me, a bleeding heart who ended up kicking ass and taking names. Who’d have thought?”
Gloria and I talked for a while longer and before we knew it the conductor was calling, “Board.” I grabbed out suitcases and followed Gloria to the train. She stepped up onto one of the cars and reached out for her suitcase. I handed it to her and grasped the handrail to pull myself up. I followed her through the car, looking for our seats. Gloria stopped and slid her suitcase under her seat and I did the same with mine. We sat facing each other, glancing sideways out the window. Ten minutes later the conductor yelled, “All aboard” and the train lurched forward.
We stared out the window, watching the urban scenery pass by but soon tired of seeing sights we saw every day. We settled back into our seats and sighed. I checked my watch. It was just six-thirty and we had possibly another five and a half hours to kill before our meeting with Ernie. I rose somewhat from my seat, swiveled and turned, sitting back down next to Gloria. She looked at me strangely.
“I can’t ride facing backwards,” I said. “It’s a bit disorienting.”
Gloria slid away from me, closer toward the window, giving me a little more room.
I made an exaggerated gesture of sniffing under my armpit. “Is it me?”
Gloria chuckled and shook her head. “Just giving you a little space,” she explained.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said.
“What is?” She asked.
“I thought my eighteen hour deodorant protection had worn off and I only applied it three hours ago,” I said.
“No, you’re fine,” Gloria said.
“So, now what?” I said.
“Huh?” Gloria said.
“I mean, it’s my first train trip and all,” I explained. “You think you might like to learn a couple new card games?”
That jogged Gloria’s memory and she reached under her seat and came up empty. She slapped her forehead. “My laptop,” she said. “I left it in the Jeep, in the open Jeep. I guess I can kiss that computer goodbye.”
“Well then it looks like you’re stuck with real cards,” I said. “And with me.”
Gloria looked out the window and didn’t see anything interesting and turned back to me. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
“Does riding backwards bother you?” I said.
“What?” Gloria said.
“I was just thinking,” I said. “If it doesn’t bother you, maybe you could sit across from me while we play. It’ll be a lot easier that way.”
Gloria shrugged and switched over to the opposite bench seat, pulling the folding table top, which had been up against the train’s outer wall, out between us. She propped it up with a leg that was folded up under the surface of the table.
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a brand new deck of cards with the cellophane still on the box. I pulled the red tab, much the same way smokers pull the cellophane tab to open a fresh pack of cigarette. I peeled it all the way around and slid the rest of the cover off the pack. As I was opening the box I glanced over Gloria’s shoulder at a guy sitting several rows further down the car and across the aisle. He had one of those hats that you see yachting geeks wearing. It had a leaping marlin emblem on the front and a shiny black visor. Brown hair peeked out from under the hat. The man had a full beard and was wearing large sunglasses. The ensemble looked out of place with a bright yellow polo shirt and tan slacks. He had a magazine folded open and he appeared to be reading from it.
“What are you looking at?” Gloria said.
“Don’t turn around,” I said, “But there’s a guy several rows behind you who looks a little strange. I guess I’m just a people watcher at heart.”
“Is he doing anything strange?” Gloria said.
“Not really,” I said.
“Then don’t stare at him,” Gloria said. “Let’s just play cards, all right?”
I took one last look at the man before I began shuffling the cards. I dealt five cards to each of us and set the rest of the deck down on the tabletop. I became absorbed in the finer details of the game and explaining to Gloria the ranks of every combination of cards. I laid out a pair of Jacks and she laid out three threes, smiling when she realized that her three lower cards had beat my two higher cards.
When I looked over Gloria’s shoulder again, the man in the yachting cap was gone and I didn’t give him another thought. It only took half a dozen hands for Gloria to tire of Poker. I switched to Gin Rummy and she caught on to that game immediately. By the fourth hand she had Gin and now even I was tiring of cards.
“Had enough?” I asked.
She nodded. “For now,” she said. “We’re far enough out of town now that the scenery is beginning to get interesting. Mind if we just sit quietly for a bit?”
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’m going to find the rest room. I’ll be right back.”
I got up from my side of the seat and walked up the aisle. At the end of the car, I opened the connecting door and stepped over to the next car. I had to traverse two more cars before I found one with rest rooms in it. The door to the men’s room was locked with a small sign that had slid to the right. It read, ‘Occupied’ so I stood there waiting my turn. A minute later the door opened and a man wearing a bright yellow shirt and tan slacks emerged.
The clothes seemed familiar, but this man was blonde, clean-shaven, except for a bushy mustache and had no hat. He was, however, wearing a large pair of sunglasses. He was carrying a brown paper bag under one arm. He excused himself as he squeezed by me.
I used the facilities and returned to my seat. Gloria was still staring out the window when I sat back down. I tapped her on the knee.
“The strangest thing just happened,” I said.
“What’s that?” Gloria said, turning away from the window to face me.
“I ran into a guy coming out of the men’s room and he was wearing similar clothes to the man who was sitting behind you a while ago,” I said. “Different hair, and no beard, but
same kind of sunglasses.”
“And from this you deduced?” Gloria said.
“Maybe nothing,” I said. “I just found it peculiar that the shirt and slacks looked the same on both men. Hell, maybe I’m imagining something that’s nothing. I don’t know.”
“Are you gonna be here for a while?” Gloria asked.
“Sure. Where else am I going to go?” I said. “Why?”
“Because I need to find the ladies room,” Gloria explained. “Keep an eye on our luggage, would you?”
I nodded, said nothing and turned to watch the scenery speed by my window.
Gloria found the ladies room, spent a few minutes in it and emerged refreshed. When she stepped out of the small lavatory there was a man waiting outside the door. He had a bald head, mostly covered by a plaid snap-brim hat and large tortoise shell glasses. He wore a goatee with hair an inch long around the mouth and two inches long beneath his chin. He could have passed for a reformed biker had it not been for the bright yellow Polo shirt and tan slacks. The combination registered with Gloria. She’d just heard Elliott describe two men who’d been wearing that same outfit. She gave the man a second glance and he noticed.
“Hello,” he said, and smiled at Gloria.
“Hello yourself,” she answered.
The man removed his hat, exposing his shiny bald head, which he nodded at Gloria. “Excuse me,” he said. “Didn’t I see you in the other car earlier?”
“I don’t know,” Gloria said. “Did you?”
“Sure,” he said. “You were sitting with another gentleman playing cards.”
“Okay,” Gloria said, trying to squeeze past him to get back to her seat. “Would you please let me by?” Gloria said.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, sucking in his stomach and flattening himself against one wall. “If I’m not mistaken, the man you’re sitting with is a Mr. Cooper, is he not?”
Gloria stopped and turned back to the man. “He is,” she said. “Do you know him?”
“I know of him,” the man said. “Isn’t he a private investigator?”
“Who wants to know?” Gloria said suspiciously.
“Excuse me,” the man said. “Where are my manners? My name is Ernie Ballard.”
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 154