“Aren’t you supposed to be patronizing a donut shop?” Elliott asked, patting Dean on the shoulder.
Dean spun around, a pretzel in one hand and a mustard bottle in the other. “I know,” Dean said. “I’m not doing my part as far as promoting the stereotype, am I? But damn, these are some good pretzels.”
“Tell me about it,” Elliott said. “That’s why I walk all the way around my building to get to work. Gotta get my pretzel fix. So what’s going on down at the twelfth?”
Dean took a bite from his pretzel, chewed a few times and said, “Haven’t you been reading the newspaper lately?”
“I haven’t been into the office yet,” Elliott said. “I can check it when I get there, but can you tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for?”
Dean took another bite from his pretzel and washed it down with a swallow of Diet Pepsi. “Number three,” he said. “Found him this morning over on LaBrea in the alley.”
“Same as the other two?” Elliott said.
Dean nodded as he took another bite. “Um hum,” he said, obviously trying to finish the pretzel before his partner in the cruiser laid on the horn. “The back of his head was blown out and they don’t give him much of a chance for recovery.”
“Well, no kidding,” Elliott said and then realized that Dean was jerking his bobber to get a reaction. “Clever. Any leads?”
Dean shook his head, popped the last of the fat, hot pretzel into his mouth, finished his Diet Pepsi and threw the paper cup into the trash bin. “We’re still sifting through the evidence from the first two cases. It’s slow going, but I don’t have enough to go on just yet. Anderson’s on vacation and I got this new kid driving me around today.
Just then the rookie behind the wheel of the cruiser tapped the horn and leaned over the seat, his head near the open passenger side window. “Lieutenant,” the rookie yelled, “You’re getting a call from headquarters on the radio.”
Dean turned to Elliott. “Gotta run, Elliott. Give me a call later this morning at my office. I may have something for you and Clay, if you’re looking for some work.”
“Sure,” Elliott said. “We can always use the work. I’d better get moving myself. I still have to beat Dad to the office.”
Dean and his driver pulled away from the curb and Elliott quickly put in his order for one of those irresistible pretzels. He squeezed a little mustard on it, grabbed a napkin and walked to the front door of our building. He was still taking bites from the pretzel during his elevator ride to the third floor. The last bit went into his mouth just as he reached the office door. He reached for his keys but the door was already open and I was sitting at my desk, eating a fat, warm pretzel. I stopped eating long enough to check my watch.
“I know, I know,” Elliott said. “I would have been here a few minutes ago, but I ran into Dean Hollister downstairs. He might have some work for us. I have to call him later this morning.”
“And that’s the only reason you’re late?” I said.
“Sure,” Elliott said. “Why?”
“Because you have mustard on your tie,” I said. “Pretty hard to go past the wagon without stopping for a pretzel, isn’t it?”
“Damn,” Elliott said, looking down at the stain on his tie. He untied the tie and brought it over to the sink that we had near the closet. He ran water over the stain and rubbed it. It didn’t seem to want to come out. He looked at me. “I really should switch to donuts. At least powered sugar comes out.”
I finished my pretzel and washed it down with coffee that I’d made when I had come in this morning. “So what’s this work Dean might have for us?” I said.
“He didn’t say,” Elliott said. “I guess I’ll find out later when I call him. Hey, do you have the paper over there? Dean said there was something in it about another shooting victim that they found over on LaBrea last night.”
I pointed with my coffee cup toward the leather sofa against the wall. “Yeah,” I said. “I just read that article. Pretty gruesome scene, sounds like. Did Dean say if they were any closer to connecting the three victims?”
Elliott shook his head. “No,” he said. “It’s pretty slow going so far, but Dean says they’re still sifting evidence and that’s when he told me to call him later this morning, so maybe he wants us to help him with those cases.”
“Well,” I said, “We’re wide open. I just finished filing the last of those papers on the Jackson Case and our bank account is finally starting to get back to a respectable level now that Gloria’s gone.”
Elliott sighed. “It was too bad we couldn’t have kept her on,” he said. “She was good at this business.”
“Yes, she was,” I agreed. “But I guess she thought of this company like a lifeboat with too many passengers and she didn’t want to sink us. That reminds me of that old Tyrone Power movie, Abandon Ship from 1957. That was a good one. Their ship sinks and more than twenty people are in or clinging to a lifeboat meant for nine. Power has to decide which ones get to stay and which ones he must cut loose before the approaching storm reaches them, capsizing the boat and possibly killing them all.”
“Sounds like a good parallel for the overpopulation argument that’s going around these days,” Elliott said.
“I guess so,” I said. “I never thought of it that way, but, hell yes, it fits. Anyway, that was a hard choice for Tyrone to make and at the end, he threw himself overboard after he was wounded by another passenger.”
“But it sounds like he was the star of that movie,” Elliott said. “How can he die?”
“He didn’t,” I explained. “Right after he threw himself overboard, they pulled him back into the boat and shortly after that another ship showed up and rescued the remaining survivors. Not such a happy ending for Tyrone, though. He went to jail for manslaughter or something.”
“Boy, that’s gratitude for you,” Elliott said, grabbing the morning paper and settling in behind his desk.
He found the article Dean had mentioned and read all the way through it before commenting to me. “They didn’t give this last victim’s name,” Elliott said. “I’ll have to ask Dean when I call him.”
“Why?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Elliott said. “But the more information we have, the easier it might be to make a connection.”
My phone picked that exact moment to ring. “Cooper Investigations,” I said. “Clay Cooper speaking. Oh, hi, dear. How have you been? Yes, I miss you, too. No, wait, I’ll have to call you back. No, I can’t talk now. Okay, give me ten minutes.” I hung up the phone and immediately stood and grabbed my jacket from the coat rack and headed for the door.
Elliott cleared his throat and I looked back at him and caught him smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
“Was there something you wanted to tell me?” Elliott said, resting his elbows on his desk and cradling his chin on both his palms. He reminded me of one of the Our Gang kids from the thirties, sitting on the curb, waiting for their dog, Petie to show up.
“Not a thing,” I said, and hurried out of the office. I could hear his laughter on my way down the hall toward the elevator.
I rode the elevator to the lobby and headed out the back door to the parking lot. I slid behind the wheel of my Oldsmobile and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and pressed a couple of buttons until my contacts page came up. I hit the speed dial button and pressed the phone to my ear. The phone rang on the other end and was answered almost immediately.
“Can you talk now?” the voice said.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot. Elliott would surely give me a batch of shit if he knew about us. And that’s just what I don’t need right now. I’ll tell him eventually, but for now, how about if we just keep this between us?”
“All right,” Gloria Campbell said. “When can I see you?”
“Are you free tonight?” I said.
“I believe I am,” Gloria said. “Can you come over here; let’s say around seven-thirty?”
“That’ll be me you’ll hear ringing your bell?” I said. “See you then.”
I closed my phone and slipped it back into my pocket. I had to smile as I sat there. Who would have thought that a beautiful and talented girl like Gloria would be interested in someone like me, who was twice her age? Certainly not me. I hadn’t set out to be with her. It was just something that happened one night during a stakeout. The two of us had spent eight hours shadowing a man for our client and during those eight hours, we talked about ourselves and had really gotten to know each other.
It became more difficult to keep our relationship to ourselves, especially in the office when the three of us were all there together. Gloria and I had discussed her leaving days before she officially announced it in front of Elliott, so I wasn’t surprised, but Elliott certainly was.
The thing about this whole relationship that surprised me, besides our age difference, was that I always thought that Elliott would be the one to have connected with Gloria. They were almost the same age with similar backgrounds. I guess it’s true what they say about opposites attracting because Elliott and Gloria had too much in common to be a good match. Now I, on the other hand, had a lot less in common with Gloria and maybe that’s what drew us together that night on the stakeout.
For the past two and a half months Gloria and I had had to be discreet about our relationship. We’d meet after hours, either at her house or at a dark restaurant out of town. I didn’t care who else knew about us. I just didn’t want to have to explain myself to Elliott just yet. I knew what his reaction would be. He’d be concerned that this much excitement couldn’t be good for my heart condition. Actually, just the opposite was true. Gloria filled my heart with everything that I could possibly want and I felt thirty again, so how could this be wrong?
I got out of my car and walked around the building toward the pretzel stand. Maybe if I bought Elliott another pretzel, it would keep his mouth too busy to ask any more questions that I wasn’t ready to answer just yet. I bought two pretzels and plucked four mustard packets from a plastic container and brought them back to the office. Elliott was on the phone when I walked in with the pretzels.
I laid one of the pretzels in front of him on a napkin and dropped two mustard packets alongside it. I retreated to my own desk and started in on my second pretzel of the morning. Elliott finished his phone call and looked at the pretzel and then over at me.
“Thanks,” he said, picking up the warm treat and squirting mustard along its rim. “But if you’re thinking that this will keep me quiet, well, it won’t work. As soon as I finish this, how about if we have ourselves a little talk?”
I took a bite from my pretzel, filling my mouth. I waved him off and them pointed at my bulging cheeks and shook my head.
Elliott just looked at me, patient enough to wait for me to swallow before starting in on me with his questions.
“So,” he said, a silly smirk playing on his face. “Who is she? Anyone I might know?”
“Who is who?” I said innocently.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Elliott said. “Don’t play coy with me. Come on, Dad, spill it. I want details.”
“Can’t I keep anything to myself?” I said. “I don’t ask you about your dates, do I?”
“You could,” Elliott said. “And I’d tell you about them if you really wanted to know.”
“Well, that’s your generation,” I said. “My generation doesn’t kiss and tell, so how about if we just let it drop.”
“Are you ever going to tell me about her?” Elliott said. “Or do I have to hire a private eye to tail you?”
I rolled my eyes at my nosy son. “When I’m good and ready,” I said. “And not a minute sooner. Now, who was that on the phone just now?”
Elliott hesitated, hoping I’d open up to him. I remained silent and waited for his response.
“That was Dean,” Elliott said. “He asked if I wanted to come down to the twelfth precinct and take a look at the latest victim. Andy Reynolds has him on his table right now.”
Andy Reynolds was the county medical examiner, who worked out of the same building that housed the twelfth precinct.
“And what did you tell him?” I asked.
“I said I’d be right there,” Elliott said. “Are you coming?”
“Only if you stop grilling me,” I said. “Agreed?”
Elliott nodded. “For now,” he said.
I rode with Elliott to the twelfth precinct and parked in the lot. We found Dean in the front entryway talking to the desk sergeant. When he saw us approaching, he finished his business with the sergeant and turned to me.
“Clay,” Dean said. “How have you been? How’s your heart holding up these days?”
I had to smile. “Never better,” I said.
“Really?” Dean said. “I’m glad to hear that.” He turned to Elliott. “And how are you, Elliott?”
“Frustrated,” Elliott said.
“Oh?” Dean said.
“He’ll get over it,” I said, quickly wanted to change the subject. “You know how kids are these days. So, let’s have a look at that last victim.”
Elliott shot me a knowing glance but didn’t say anything further. The three of us walked down the hall to Andy Reynolds’ office. We found him standing over a table with a body laid out on it. He was dictating into the overhead microphone as he dissected the body and removed the organs. Andy stopped dictating and looked at Dean.
“Find anything unusual?” Dean said, gesturing at the body with his chin.
“Aside from half his head being blown away, he’s perfectly healthy,” Andy said and then looked at the victim’s head, adding, “I mean he was healthy.”
“Did you take his prints?” Dean said.
Andy nodded. “I sent them up to records right after the body came in,” Andy said. “They should have an I.D. on him in just a few minutes.”
“Obviously he didn’t have any I.D. on him when you found him,” I said.
“Not even any clothes,” Dean said.
“Someone stripped him after they shot him?” Elliott said. “That’s odd, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d say whoever did this used a silencer,” Dean said. “That would have given him time to strip the clothes off him and get away clean.”
I looked at the dead man’s hands. They were missing eight of the ten fingers. All that remained were his two thumbs. “Looks like the killer was trying to make sure you couldn’t identify this guy,” I said. “Probably didn’t have time to cut off all ten before he heard someone coming.”
“That’s the way I figure it,” Dean said. “And it’s a damned good thing he didn’t finish or we might never know this guy’s identity.”
“What about dental records?” Elliott said.
Andy shook his head and grabbed the victim’s jaw, pulling it open. There were no teeth in the head. “I can tell from some of this bruising that this guy had a full set of dentures, uppers and lowers. I think the killer took them as well.”
“Don’t they have face recognition software these days?” Elliott said.
“Yes they do,” Dean said. “But unless his picture is already on file somewhere, we’d have nothing to match it up with. Besides, his face wasn’t in such good condition when we found him.”
Another man in a lab coat entered the room with a small envelope and handed it to Andy. “Records told me to rush this over to you,” the man said and left the room again.
Andy opened the envelope, read it and handed it to Dean. Dean looked it over and then looked at me. “The victim’s name was Edgar Polton, forty-five, from Santa Barbara.” Dean handed me the printout.
“Looks like Edgar’s been a busy boy,” I said, reading his rap sheet. “He did a stretch in the county lockup a while back. His rap sheet includes attempted murder, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, robbery, breaking and entering, battery, burglary and auto theft. Can’t say I feel sorry for poor Edgar. Society’s probably a better place
without him.”
“Too bad we don’t get to pick and choose which victims we ignore,” Dean said. “Fact is that we still have a killer out there who needs to pay for this.”
“And what is it that you’d like Elliott and me to do for you on this one, Dean?” I said.
“I only need a couple of days out of you until Anderson comes back from vacation,” Dean said. “You want in on this?”
Without hesitation Elliott and I both nodded. “We’re in,” I said. “And I think we’ll start over in records, if it’s all the same to you. Would you give them a call and tell them we’re coming up?”
“Sure,” Dean said. “Go do whatever it is you do so well.”
Elliott and I turned and left the morgue and headed down the hall toward the elevator. On the second floor we found the records department and asked to see the files on the first two shooting victims as well as this latest one from last night.
“Lieutenant Hollister just called,” the woman behind the counter said. “I have those files for you right here.” She handed over two file folders.”
“Can I also see the latest one from last night?” I said.
“Lieutenant Hollister still has that one,” she told me. “His office is…”
“I know where it is,” I said. “Thank you for these.” I held the two file folders up. “I’ll get them back to you in an hour or less.”
Elliott and I took the elevator back down to the ground level and ran into Dean just as we stepped off the elevator.
“Your clerk up in records tells me that you still have the file on Edgar Polton in your office,” I said. “Can we take a look at it?”
“Sure,” Dean said. “I have to stop by there anyway on my way out. Come on.”
We followed Dean back to his office. The file folder was still lying on top of his desk.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 183