The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

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The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 160

by Bernico, Bill


  “We found the accused, Rudy Carver, with his hands around the victim’s neck,” Gannon said. “We yelled for him to halt and that’s when he dropped the girl and ran up the alley.”

  “Objection,” Attorney Tucker said, raising one finger in the air. “At that particular moment there was no way Officer Gannon could have identified my client in the dark.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Parker said with a flat affect in his voice.

  “Let me rephrase the question,” Knight said. “Officer Gannon, when you yelled at the man in the alley to halt, what happened?”

  Officer Gannon looked at the jurors this time. “The man we saw dropped the girl to the pavement and ran up the alley.”

  “And what did you do then?” Knight said.

  “My partner, Officer Schaefer, stayed with the girl and I chased the suspect up the alley,” Gannon explained. “The suspect ran through a gate, into an apartment building and up one flight of stairs. I followed but by the time I got to the doorway the suspect was gone. I climbed the stairs and found two doors opposite each other.”

  “Go on, Officer Gannon,” Knight said.

  “I stopped and listened at each door,” Gannon said. “I didn’t hear anything on the other side of the west door, but I did hear sounds coming from the other side of the east door. I kicked it in and found the defendant running toward the kitchen. I ordered him to stop and he didn’t. Instead he slid open a drawer and pulled out a large knife and came at me with it.”

  “And what did you do, Officer Gannon?” Knight said.

  “I ordered him to drop the knife,” Gannon said. “When he didn’t, I shot him. I could hear a siren in the distance so I knew backup was on the way, but before they arrived, the suspect looked up at me and told me that he’d killed the victim because she screamed when he stopped to talk to her.”

  “No further questions, your honor,” Knight said, returning to his table.

  “Mr. Tucker,” Judge Parker said. “Your witness.”

  Tucker stepped up to the witness stand and looked Gannon in the eye before swiveling on his toes and facing the jury. “Officer Gannon,” Tucker said. “Isn’t it just possible that when you came upon the man in the alley, that he was trying to help the girl he’d found lying there?”

  “There was no one else in the area,” Gannon said. “It had to be him.”

  “It had to be him,” Tucker repeated. “Is that your idea of professional investigation techniques?”

  Gannon said nothing.

  Tucker continued his questioning. “When you kicked in Mr. Carver’ door, did you announce to him that you were a policeman?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Gannon said.

  Tucker continued his cross-examination and said, “Did you call an ambulance for Mr. Carver after you shot him?”

  “I didn’t call anyone,” Gannon said. “There was no phone in the suspect’s apartment.”

  Tucker pressed on. “And how long was it before backup arrived on the scene?”

  Gannon shrugged. “I’d guess three or four minutes.”

  “And during those three or four minutes,” Tucker said, “What did you do as far as attending to Mr. Carver’ wounds?”

  “After I cuffed the suspect,” Gannon said, “I grabbed a kitchen towel and wrapped it around the suspect’s upper arm where the bullet had hit him.”

  Tucker turned from the jury back to Gannon and said, “And at what point did you read Mr. Carver his rights?”

  Gannon quickly glanced at Knight, who was leafing through his papers, looking for any reference to the Miranda Rights part of Officer Gannon’s arrest. He found nothing.

  “I’ll ask you again, Officer Gannon. “At what point did you read Mr. Carver his rights?”

  “He’d already confessed,” Officer Gannon explained.

  “After you shot him, isn’t that correct, Officer Gannon?” Tucker said.

  “Yes, but…”

  “And isn’t it true that when you got to the top of the stairs that you had no reason at all to kick in Mr. Carver’ door?” Tucker said.

  “I suspected…”

  “You suspected,” Tucker said. “But you didn’t know for sure that anyone on the other side of that door had done anything wrong. In fact, the real murderer could have been silently waiting on the other side of the west door, isn’t that right, Officer Gannon?”

  “I didn’t think…”

  “That’s right, Officer Gannon,” Tucker said. “You didn’t think. You just acted on a hunch. Call it policeman’s intuition, if you will. When you burst into Mr. Carver’ apartment he panicked, not knowing right away that you were a police officer.”

  Judge Parker turned to Gannon. “Is this true, Officer Gannon? Did you neglect to read Mr. Carver his Miranda Rights? And did he confess only after you shot him once?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Gannon said. “But I…”

  The judge turned to Knight. “The law is very clear here,” Judge Parker said.

  At this point attorney Tucker turned to the judge and said, “Your honor, I’d like to make a motion that the charges against my client, Rudy Carver be dismissed for lack of evidence. Without a positive I.D. at the scene of the crime and without knocking and announcing that he was a policeman, my client thought that his home was being invaded unlawfully and he was frightened. As for the coerced confession, I move that it be thrown out as well, since my client’s rights were not explained to him at the time and that he feared for his life.”

  Judge Parker looked at D.A. Knight and slowly shook his head. “As much as it pains me to see this man set free in this case, I have no other choice than to grant Attorney Tucker’s motion. This case is dismissed.” He banged his gavel once and stepped down off the bench, retreating to his chambers.

  Rudy Carver stood, his right arm still hanging in a sling, and extended his left hand to his attorney. “Thanks, Leo,” Carver said. “Send me your bill.” He left the courthouse without further comment.

  The entire courtroom exploded in conversation and comments. Police held the throngs of angry people back as Carver exited the room. I could feel the blood in my veins pulsing with my own sense of anger and injustice. I had no personal stake in this case. I didn’t know any of the participants, but I knew that I couldn’t just let it go. This would be one big loose end as long as Rudy Carver walked free. And that slime ball of a lawyer that defended Carver had to have known that his client was guilty. How could he live with himself after allowing Carver to go free?

  I drove back to my office, my mind racing with the recent events in the courtroom. I threw my keys on my desk and plopped down in my chair. I wondered what Rudy Carver was doing at this very moment. Perhaps he was sitting in some sleazy bar bragging to the other lowlifes how he’d manipulated the system and beat the rap. His friends were probably slapping him on the back and buying him drinks. The whole thing made me sick.

  I sat there fuming a while longer when my office door opened and Gloria came in carrying several bags. She looked at me, set he bags down and said, “Something eating you today, Elliott?”

  I shook my head slowly. “I just came from the courthouse,” I said. “Rudy Carver just got away with murder.”

  “What?” Gloria almost shouted. “That was a slam dunk. For crying out loud, they caught him in the act. How could he possibly have wiggled out of that one?”

  I explained the loopholes that Carver’s attorney used to get his client off. “And Carver just walked out of that courtroom with a smug look. I tell you, if I’d been standing anywhere near him at the time, I’d have slapped that smirk right off his face.”

  “Well,” Gloria said. “It’s over and there’s nothing either of us can do about it, so try not to let it spoil your day.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I said. “But the injustice of it all just makes me want to…”

  Gloria held up one finger and shook it. “Uh uh,” she said. “You’ll pop that vein in your forehead and then what’ll I do for a job?” She
turned her head slightly and gave me a smile.

  I couldn’t help but smile back. She had a way of calming me down under the worst of circumstances.

  “I suppose so,” I said. I looked at the packages she’d set on the leather couch against the east wall and said, “What’s in the bags?”

  “Ooh,” Gloria said. “Wait ‘til I show you.” She reached into one of the bags and withdrew a pair of sheer curtains and an expandable curtain rod. She held the curtains up to my one and only window and stood aside, letting me get the affect.

  “You’re putting these in your apartment?” I said. “And you’re holding them up so you can see what they look like with light coming through them, right?”

  Gloria frowned. “No, silly,” she said. “These would look fabulous right here on this window.”

  I held up both palms, waving them back and forth like someone waving to a passing dignitary in a convertible. “Oh, no,” I said. “Not in this office. This is a private investigator’s office, not some ladies auxiliary meeting room. No, no curtains in here. That’s not the image I want for us.”

  “Us?” Gloria said. “You think this room is decorated with us in mind? This place looks like some good ol’ boys’ locker room and sometimes it smells just as bad.”

  “Now how would you know what a good ol’ boys’ locker room smells like?” I said. “Besides, if dad ever sees those hanging there, he’ll rip ‘em down and throw ‘em away. And grandpa? Well, don’t get me started.”

  Gloria reached into the other bag and pulled out two lace doilies, laying them on the backrest part of my leather couch. “So I suppose you won’t want these, either,” she said.

  I folded my arms across my chest and shook my head. “Any other surprises?” I said.

  Gloria pulled a pack of frilly stationery out of the second bag and held it up. “Any objections if I use this for my correspondence?”

  “I hope you kept the receipt for all of this stuff,” I said, accenting ‘stuff’ with a bit of disdain. “Is this what your other office looked like?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Gloria said.

  “Not exactly,” I repeated. “And let me guess why. Your dad didn’t want that image for his office, either, right?”

  Gloria shrugged. “No, he wasn’t crazy about it, either.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m glad we got this out of the way and we’ll never have to have this conversation again.”

  Gloria packed all of her purchases back into the bags and set them by the door. She took a deep breath, let it out and then said, “So, what have we got going today?”

  I picked up the note I’d made earlier today when I’d taken a call this morning. I held the note out toward Gloria and she took it from me, slowly reading it. When she finished, she handed it back to me.

  “This is a joke, right?” Gloria said. “Violet Rutherford? Are you kidding me?”

  “That’s her real name,” I said. “I laughed, too, when she first told me her name, but she was born Violet Schwartz. She couldn’t help falling in love with a man named Rutherford, could she?”

  “Well, why the hell didn’t she keep her maiden name when she married this dork?” Gloria said. “She had to know what people were going to say when she introduced herself.”

  “I guess she just hoped that most people wouldn’t be familiar with that obscure character from the old Leave It To Beaver television show from the fifties,” I said.

  “She must have forgotten about perpetual reruns,” Gloria said. “I hope you’re not going to tell me that her husband’s name is Fred.”

  “No,” I said, half laughing. “It’s Lumpy.”

  One of Gloria’s eyebrows shot up while the other stayed flat.

  “Oh, all right,” I said. “So it’s not Lumpy. Pardon me for trying to interject a little humor into your day.”

  “So, when were you planning on seeing this woman?” she said, completely ignoring the ‘Lumpy’ remark.

  “Actually,” I said, handing the note back to her, “I thought you could stop by and talk with her. This is more your kind of case, don’t you think?”

  “Why?” Gloria said. “Because it’s a woman and she wants someone to tail her wandering husband?”

  “Well, you have to admit,” I said. “You’d be less conspicuous following her husband around than I would. Besides, in order to get the goods on the guy, sometimes it becomes necessary to come on to him and how would it look if I came on to Mr. Cheating Husband? I ask you.”

  “All right,” Gloria said. “That last one was a valid point, I have to admit. But what if he turns out to be Quasimodo? You think I’m going to come on to someone like that?”

  “Just play it by ear,” I said. “If he’s not exactly your type, just follow him around and report his actions back to the wife. If you think you can convince him to break his wife’s heart in your presence, so much the better for our case.”

  Gloria looked down at the note again. “So when does she want us, er, me, to start on this?” she said.

  “Tonight would be soon enough,” I said. “He has his regular night out with the boys tonight at Stellar Lanes over on Pico Boulevard. You know anything about bowling?”

  “Two-fifty,” was all Gloria said.

  “Is that the time you expect to nail him or the fee you plan on charging this woman?” I said.

  “It’s my average score in bowling,” Gloria explained. “Didn’t I mention that when I applied for this job?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, you left that part out. You did mention the sharpshooting and the Tae-Kwan-Do skills, along with the master-of-disguise honors.” I stepped over to my filing cabinet, pulled open the top drawer and withdrew the personnel file I had on Gloria. I laid her application on my desk, pulled out my pen, clicked it with a flourish and wrote, ‘two-fifty, average bowling score’ on it. I unclicked my pen, dropped it in my pocket and returned the paper to Gloria’s file, closing the filing cabinet after all of that. “There, now your file is updated.”

  Gloria rolled her eyes and took her seat behind her desk. “Men,” she said, under her breath. Then she took my note, unfolded it on her desk and pulled out a pen of her own. “So, what is Mr. Cheating Husband’s first name anyway?”

  “Lloyd,” I said. “And he’s forty-five, in case that was going to be your next question.”

  “Lloyd Rutherford,” she said under her breath as she wrote the name on the note. “And how will I know him when I see him?”

  “Mrs. Rutherford will fill you in on all that when you meet with her,” I explained. “Lloyd won’t be home from work until shortly after six p.m. so you can call her anytime between now and then to set up a meeting. Have fun.”

  Gloria picked up her phone and dialed the number on the note I’d given her. Mrs. Rutherford picked up on the second ring.

  “Hello,” Violet said.

  “Hello,” Gloria responded. “Mrs. Rutherford?”

  “Yes,” Violet said.

  “Mrs. Rutherford, this is Gloria Campbell at the office of Cooper Investigations,” Gloria said in her most professional voice. “I understand you’d like to talk with me about a surveillance job.”

  “That’s right,” Violet said. “Could we meet somewhere this afternoon, let’s say around two?”

  “Yes, I can work you in at two,” Gloria said.

  I smiled at Gloria, knowing she could have fit Mrs. Rutherford in anytime today.

  Gloria frowned at me and turned back to her phone. “Where would you like to meet?”

  “Do you know where The Gold Cup coffee shop is on Hollywood Boulevard?” Violet said.

  “Know it?” Gloria said. “Our office is less than a block from there. I’ll meet you there at two then. How will I know you?”

  Violet paused momentarily and then said, “I’ll be wearing a bright red dress with matching pumps.”

  “And do I call you Anna Sage?” Gloria said.

  “What’s that?” Violet said, confused.

 
“Nothing,” Gloria said. “Just an obscure remark about John Dillinger’s last date. I’ll see you there.”

  “Thank you, Miss Campbell,” Violet said. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” Gloria said and hung up.

  “There,” I said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “What’s with you today?” Gloria said. “You get into the stash of sarcasm pills this morning?”

  My phone rang just in time to save me from a conversational exchange that I knew I couldn’t win. I quickly grabbed my phone.

  “Cooper Investigations,” I said. “Elliott Cooper speaking.”

  “Elliott, this is Dean,” the voice said. It was Lieutenant Dean Hollister of the L.A.P.D.

  “Yes, Dean,” I said, spinning around and sitting in my chair. I swiveled away from Gloria’s desk and leaned back in my chair. “Your timing is perfect.”

  “Huh?” Dean said.

  “Never mind,” I said. “What can I do for you today?”

  “You free for coffee, Elliott?” Dean said.

  “Hang on,” I said. “Let me check with my partner.” I didn’t even turn around to look at Gloria but just wasted a few seconds before answering, “Sure. I’m free. Where did you want to meet?”

  “I’ll be in your neighborhood around two,” Dean said. “What do you say we meet at the Gold Cup?”

  “The Gold Cup at two?” I said, loud enough for Gloria to hear me. “Probably not the best place to meet today. How about Stan’s Café on Sunset? That’s just s couple blocks away from here.”

  “Sure,” Dean said. “Stan’s at two.”

  “What’s this all about?” I said.

  “Let’s wait until we meet,” Dean said. “I’ll fill you in then.”

  “Should I bring my Meerschaum pipe and magnifying glass, or is this a social visit?” I said.

  “You can skip the pipe and glass,” Dean said. “But bring your notebook.”

  “See you then,” I said, and hung up.

  I turned to Gloria. “Looks like we’re both going to be busy today,” I said. “Maybe we’ll even make enough this month to pay the bills.”

  “Then I guess I’ll see you back here after our meetings,” Gloria said. “Whenever that might be.” She got up, grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Before she closed the door she turned back toward me. “If anyone calls for me, take a message, would you?” She closed the door without waiting for a reply.

 

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