The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

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The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 161

by Bernico, Bill


  If this is what marriage is like, I think I can hold off another couple of decades before I take the plunge.

  Dean was already sitting in a booth when I walked into Stan’s Coffee Shop. He motioned me over with a wave. I told the cashier to have my coffee sent over to Dean’s booth and stepped over to where he sat waiting. He gestured to the seat across from him and I sat. A waitress brought me a cup of coffee and asked if either of us would like something to eat. Dean waved her off and I told her coffee was all I wanted.

  I turned to Dean. “So, what kind of adventure do you have lined up for me today,” I said.

  Dean shrugged. “It’s not so much of an adventure as it is a job,” Dean said.

  “An actual paying job?” I said.

  Dean nodded silently.

  “Don’t tell me the county found some extra cash in the budget,” I said.

  Dean shook his head. “Not the county,” he said. “This will be coming from me.” He looked into his cup as he stirred.

  “Sounds serious,” I said. “What’s going on, Dean?”

  “It’s this whole Rudy Carver thing,” Dean said. “That scumbag walked this morning on a technicality. We all know he was guilty. Hell, even Rudy knew he was guilty, but he played the system and won and it’s affecting me and my men. You can almost cut the tension at the station with a knife.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “I was there when the verdict came down this morning. But what can I do about it?”

  Dean stirred his coffee some more, playing for time. Finally he said, “I want you to come up with a way to help up put Rudy away for good.”

  I raised one eyebrow.

  “Hold on, Elliott,” Dean said. “I’m not asking you to do anything illegal, mind you. I just want you to come up with a way to make Carver pay for his crime. No one at the station, including me, can get involved with whatever you come up with, so you’ll be on your own for the most part. Nothing, and I mean nothing can lead back to me or anyone else on the force. If you get caught or something goes wrong, I don’t know you. As far as anyone will know, you acted alone.”

  “That’s if I decide to accept this mission,” I said. “Who do you think I am, for crying out loud, Peter Graves, I mean, Jim Phelps? What is this, an episode of Mission Impossible?”

  “I guess that would be as good a description as any,” Dean said. “So if you decided to do this and if you come up with a viable solution and if you pull it off, I don’t want to know about any of it. Reading the results in the paper the next day is as much as I’m going to need to know about this.”

  “What kind of results are you expecting to read about?” I said.

  “That’s entirely up to you,” Dean said. “But whatever you do, I’d like it to result in Rudy never walking free again. Is that clear enough for you, Elliott?”

  “What about Gloria?” I said.

  “What about her?” Dean said.

  “Can I involve her in this?” I said.

  Dean shook his head. “Two people can’t keep a secret,” he said. “One can. Best to leave her out of it altogether.”

  “Are there any time constraints?” I said. “I mean, does he have to be dispatched before sundown today?”

  “Sooner would be better,” Dean said. “But don’t be so hasty that you make a costly mistake. Take your time and do it right. Now that’s all I’m going to say about this. We’re never to discuss it again, not in private and certainly not anywhere in public. It’s all you from here on out.”

  “That’s if I decide to accept this mission,” I said. “And if I do, you’ll get the best I have. That’s a promise.”

  “Did you see what’s playing at The Pantages Theater tonight?” Dean said.

  I guess we really were through discussing it.

  Gloria walked into The Gold Cup shortly before two o’clock but didn’t see anyone wearing a bright red dress, matching pumps or not. She took a booth near the front door so she could watch customers coming in. She ordered herself a glass of lemonade and waited. At precisely two on the nose, a slender woman walked into the coffee shop wearing a bright red dress with matching pumps. She paused at the front door and looked around, her eyes finally settling on Gloria, who by now was waving her over to the booth.

  Gloria stood when Violet Rutherford approached. She gestured for the woman to sit across from her and then sat herself. When the waitress came over, Violet waved her off. “Nothing for me, thanks,” she said and then turned toward Gloria. “I won’t be here that long,” she explained. The waitress disappeared.

  Gloria extended her hand across the booth and said, “Violet Rutherford, I presume.”

  Violet nodded. “And you would be Gloria Campbell. Thanks for meeting with me so quickly,” she said. “Do you mind if we get right down to business? I have to be somewhere else right after this meeting.”

  “Sure,” Gloria said. “Can you tell me a little about what services you expect from me?”

  “Well,” Violet said, “I’ve suspected for some time now that Lloyd has been seeing someone else on those nights when he says he’s going bowling with his friends, and I’d like you to find out if that is indeed the case. That’s all there is to it?”

  “Not that I’m not grateful for the work,” I said, “but may I ask why you haven’t just gone to the bowling alley on any one of those nights to see for yourself?”

  “No good,” Violet said. “I’m too well known by not only his friends, but the people who own the bowling alley. If he got wind that I suspected anything, well…”

  “You might lose whatever leverage you had in a divorce settlement. Is that about it? I mean, you weren’t planning on going Lorena Bobbit on him, were you?” Gloria said, referring to the famous case where the wife found out about her cheating husband, cut off his penis and threw it out her car window as she drove away from the scene.

  “No,” Violet said. “Nothing like that. It’s just the not knowing that’s making me crazy. If I can find out for sure one way or the other, I can get on with my life and that’s where I’ll need your help, Miss Campbell.”

  “Sounds like a short and easy job for me,” Gloria said. “You sure you want to spend your money like this?”

  “It’ll be worth it to me,” Violet said. “Besides, I’d be paying you with his money. The irony of that gives me great pleasure.”

  “I can see where it would,” Gloria said. “My partner, Mr. Cooper, tells me that you mentioned to him that tonight is Mr. Rutherford’s regular bowling night. Is that correct?”

  “That’s right,” Violet said. “Your part of this quest should only take one night, and for that I’ll pay you two hundred dollars. Is that enough for a few hours of your time?”

  “That’ll cover it,” Gloria said. “If I find out what you think I’ll find out, when where and how will I get the information to you?”

  “I’ll be waiting outside of the bowling alley in the parking lot,” Violet said. “I’ll be driving a silver Mercedes. You can meet me at my car and tell me what you’ve discovered. Simple enough?”

  “Yes,” Gloria said. “That pretty simple and straight-forward. What time did you want me to drop by the alleys?”

  “Lloyd gets home shortly after six,” Violet said. “He leaves for the alley around seven. Their games begin at seven-thirty, so any time after that, but the sooner the better.”

  “And what time will you get there?” Gloria said.

  “I’ll pull into the parking lot at eight and park in the back row, away from prying eyes,” Violet said.

  “That’s fine,” Gloria said, “assuming I can get the goods on Mr. Rutherford in half an hour.”

  “I have nothing else to do,” Violet explained. “I’ll wait for you to come out and tell me what you’ve found. If it takes longer than that, I’ll just wait. I’ll pay you right there on the spot and then you can leave.” Violet stood up and shook Gloria’s hand once more.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, Mrs. Rutherford?�
� Gloria said. “How will I know who to look for? Did you bring a photo of Mr. Rutherford?”

  “My goodness,” Violet said, “I almost forgot.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a five by seven color photo of a man in a blue suit. “That was taken last April and he hasn’t changed at all.”

  “See you tonight,” Gloria said, tucking the photo into her own purse. Gloria watched as Violet Rutherford left the coffee shop. She didn’t think that the woman looked anything like the character on Leave It To Beaver. Maybe in person Lloyd Rutherford looked like Fred. She’d know tonight.

  It was quarter to three when Gloria got back to the office. She was going over her notes when I walked in and took a seat behind my desk. Gloria looked up and just stared at me, waiting for me to say something, anything.

  “What?” I said.

  “So what was your important meeting with Lieutenant Hollister all about?” she said.

  “Nothing important,” I said. “He was just asking about dad.”

  “Bullshit,” Gloria said. “You two have got something cooking. What is it?”

  “Gloria,” I said. “I know we usually share everything that goes on in this business, but believe me, just this once, it’s best if you don’t know anything about this case. You’ll have to trust me on this one. Can you do that?” I kept a somber face the whole time and Gloria picked up on it.

  “Sure, Elliott,” she said. “If it’s that important.”

  “It is,” I said. “Maybe someday I can fill you in, but for now, well, let’s just leave it alone. And what about your case with Mrs. Rutherford? How’d that go?”

  “I can’t discuss it,” Gloria said. “It’s confidential.”

  I nodded. “I see,” I said. “And this is your way of getting back at me for not being able to tell you about my case. Is that it?”

  Gloria just stared at me. I stared back, not wanting to be the first to blink or speak. We each held our stare until Gloria couldn’t any longer and blinked. “All right,” she said. “So it’s not a big secret. It’s a simple tail job. I know it’s not as exciting as your top secret 007 assignment, but it pays the bills. I’m getting two hundred dollars for maybe an hour’s work.”

  “It’s not like I didn’t already know what you were hired to do,” I said. “Remember, I took the initial call and Mrs. Rutherford had already filled me in.”

  “Oh yeah,” Gloria said. “Say listen, I’ll probably be finished with my part of this dance before nine o’clock. Are you sure I can’t help you with your case?”

  I held up one palm and shook my head gently. Gloria got the message and didn’t press it.

  “Say, boss,” Gloria said. “Since I have to be working past our office hours tonight, how about if I get the rest of this afternoon off? I have a few things I could be doing.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Take off. I can hold the fort down by myself.”

  Just then the office door opened and Dad came in, looking fit as a fiddle and better than he had before his heart attack.

  “Hi kids,” Dad said. “Are you two busy?”

  I stood up and walked around my desk to greet him. “Dad,” I said. “How do you feel?”

  “With my hands,” Dad said and then remembered that Gloria was also in the room. He turned to her and said, “Oops, sorry, Gloria.”

  “Don’t be, Clay,” Gloria said. “I’ve heard ‘em all before. Remember? I used to work with my dad, too.”

  Dad walked over and gave Gloria a big hug and then stepped back to get a better look at her. “Is it my imagination, or do you get prettier every time I see you?”

  Gloria smiled a broad smile and then turned her head toward me, looking for some sort of response. I said nothing.

  “I see you didn’t pass your charming gene on to your son, Clay,” Gloria said.

  “Is he taking you for granted?” Dad said.

  Dad turned to me. “You should appreciate your partner, Elliott,” he said.

  “That’s the same thing I’ve been telling him,” Gloria said, “But I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

  “So what brings you here today?” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Dad said. “I work here, don’t I? And this is a regular workday, so here I am. Put me to work.”

  I shrugged. “I’m on something,” I said, “but it’s super confidential. I can’t let anyone, even you, Dad, in on it. Sorry.”

  Gloria hiked a thumb at me. “Mr. Bond over there is on some sort of secret mission,” she said. “He won’t even tell me about it. And the job I’m on will only take an hour tops to finish. Sorry, but there’s nothing for you to do in my case, either.”

  Dad looked around the office and sighed. “Kinda slow, in other words,” he said.

  “Not in other words,” I said. “Those are the perfect words.”

  “Does that mean you both have a little time to kill before you start on your cases?” Dad said.

  Gloria and I both nodded. “I guess so,” I said. “I’m first starting on my case tomorrow morning.”

  “And I don’t have to start mine until seven-thirty tonight,” Gloria said. “Was there something you wanted to do, Clay?”

  “I was just wondering,” Dad said. “How’d you both like to come with me and help me pick out a new car?”

  Gloria looked at me, her eyebrows raised. I turned to Dad. “You’re giving up your Olds?” I said. “What prompted this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve had it for twenty-three years and put on more than two hundred fifty thousand miles. I was thinking I’d better get rid of it before it starts giving me trouble.”

  “Are you getting another Oldsmobile, Dad?” I said.

  Dad shrugged. “I was thinking I’d try something different for a change,” he said.

  My eyebrows rose. “A Cooper without an Olds,” I said. “This will be a first. Grandpa had an Olds since the thirties and that’s all you’ve driven since the sixties. What kind of car could lure you away from General Motors?”

  “I was watching a rerun of Mission Impossible this morning on the oldies station,” Dad said. “And there was a commercial for a Toyota Camry that caught my eye.”

  I smiled. “You’ve finally realized that the Japanese are making better cars than we do over here?”

  “I have to admit it,” Dad said. “When my Olds was in the shop they gave me a Camry to drive for a few days and I was impressed. I guess the commercial just reminded me how much I liked driving that Toyota. So, you kids want to come with me to the dealership and help me pick one out? I’ll spring for ice cream afterwards.”

  The mental picture I got of the three of us licking ice cream cones made me smile. It got to Gloria, too and she laughed.

  “Sure,” Gloria said. “What the heck.”

  “Just don’t insist on fixing my cone this time,” I said.

  “Fixing your cone?” Dad said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you remember?” I said. “When I was a kid and you’d stop for ice cream. We’d drive away licking our cones, but apparently I didn’t lick mine fast enough and it started to drip done the sides of the cone. I guess you didn’t want me dripping ice cream on your seats so you’d take my cone and lick the drips off all around the edge of my cone and then hand it back to me.”

  “I did that?” Dad said.

  “Yes,” I said. “And from then on it taught me to lick my cone faster if I didn’t want you slobbering all over it.”

  Gloria laughed at that one. “You, too?” she said. “I thought my dad had a monopoly on fixing cones. Must be a dad thing.”

  “Hey,” Dad said. “I was paying for those cones. I should be able to fix one every now and then.”

  “Fine,” I said. “If mine starts dripping today, you can fix it, okay?”

  I locked up the office and we all rode in Dad’s 1989 Oldsmobile to the Toyota dealer in Burbank. Dad pulled into the lot and parked near a row of new Camrys. The three of us got out and started walking down the
row of cars. Like a spider rushing to a trapped fly in his web, it didn’t take a young salesman long to make his way over to us and start in with the glad handing and rhetoric.

  He held his hand out to me and said, “Good afternoon sir. My name is Brad Foster, and no, I’m not related to Jody. And you are?”

  “Also not related to Jody,” I said. I didn’t shake his hand, but said, “And I am just looking. Dad here is actually the one thinking of buying.”

  Brad quickly turned his attentions to Dad. “Good afternoon sir. What can I show you today?”

  “The back of your head as you’re walking away?” Dad said sarcastically.

  Brad laughed, not realizing that Dad was serious.

  “No, seriously,” Brad said, looking at Dad’s Olds. “Will you be trading in this fine specimen of a car? It’s an Oldsmobile, isn’t it? A ninety-seven, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Eighty-nine,” Dad said. “And yes, I was considering trading it if I can get the right price for it.”

  Brad stuck his head inside Dad’s driver side window and glanced at the odometer. He pulled his head out and looked at Dad. “Looks like you’ve babied this car, sir. It’s barely broken in,” he said. “Fifty three thousand miles is pretty low for that year.”

  Dad shook his head. “Not fifty-three,” he said. “It’s over.”

  Brad looked astonished. “A hundred fifty-three thousand?” he said.

  Dad shook his head. “Two hundred fifty-three thousand carefree miles,” he told Brad. “And you’re right, Brad. It’s just getting broken in. So what’s it worth on a trade?”

  Brad looked at Dad and said, “If you’ll let me have your keys, I can have my buyer appraise it while you test drive one of these new models.” Brad stood there with his hand out.

  “Just give me a ball park figure,” Dad said. “I won’t hold you to it, but I’m not going to test drive anything until I have an idea of what I can get for my Olds.”

  “Now this is just a ball park figure,” Brad said. “And I could be off either way, but I’d say you’re looking at about eighteen thousand dollars.”

 

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