The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

by Bernico, Bill

  “Yeah,” Gloria said from behind her desk. “She told us that she was married to some male stripper who took off and she wanted us to find him, too.”

  “You think it’s the same woman?” I said to Dad.

  “A short red-head?” Dad said. “Probably forty by now, a little on the goofy side?”

  “A little?” Gloria said. “She was a few crayons short of a box.”

  “That’s her,” Dad said. “You’d be wise just to steer clear of her.”

  “That’s pretty much what we’ve already decided,” I said. “So, Dad, how are you doing? You’re not overdoing it are you?”

  “I’m fine,” Clay said. “I even drove myself here. I just couldn’t stand being cooped up in the house another day. I had to get out for a while.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” I said.

  “That would be nice,” Dad said.

  I turned around and saw that the coffee maker had not even been plugged in this morning. I turned back to Dad. “Let me just run to the corner for a couple of cups,” I said.

  “Since when do you drink coffee?” Clay said.

  “Not for me,” I said. “For you and Gloria. Have a seat. It won’t take but a couple of minutes. Make yourself at home.” I hurried out the door and down the hall.

  Clay sidled over to Gloria’s desk and looked down at her. She had trouble meeting his gaze. Clay pulled up the client’s chair next to Gloria’s. “Look,” he said. “You don’t owe me any explanations. We both agreed it was the best thing for both of us.”

  “I know, Clay,” Gloria said, “But that doesn’t make it any easier. And this whole thing is really awkward, you know, because of Elliott. I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. It just happened, like it did with you and me.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Clay said. “As long as you’re happy and as long as Elliott’s happy. Isn’t that all that really matters?”

  Gloria hung her head. “I know,” she said. “But it’s still a strange feeling being in the same room with the two of you.”

  “Do you love him?” Clay said.

  “Huh?” Gloria said, caught off balance by the question.

  “I’m sorry,” Clay said. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  Gloria mulled it over for a moment and then looked up at Clay. “I really do,” she said. “I think we have something special here. Not that you and I didn’t, but this is different. I don’t know how to explain it exactly.”

  “You don’t have to, Gloria,” Clay said. “Just follow your heart and you can’t go wrong.”

  Gloria placed her hand on top of Clay’s and looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Clay.”

  “For what?” he said.

  “For this,” she said. “It’s been eating away at me ever since we split.”

  “Hey,” Clay said. “It was the best thing for both of us. If we hadn’t made that decision, I might be dead and this conversation would be a moot point.”

  Gloria leaned over and kissed Clay’s forehead.

  Clay leaned back quickly, laying his hand over his heart. “Careful,” he said, jokingly. “You wouldn’t want to send me back to intensive care now, would you?” He got up and pulled Gloria’s client chair back into its original position. Clay stepped over to Elliott’s desk, taking a seat behind it, just as Elliott came through the door carrying two cups of coffee. Elliott set one cup down on Gloria’s desk, gave the other to his dad and took a seat in his client’s chair, facing Clay.

  “So,” I said. “Do you have any other plans for today?”

  Clay sipped from his coffee, set it down and said, “You know, I never realized how stressful this job and sometimes everyday life was. And now that I’m out of it, somewhat, I’m finding out that I really can relax. I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never even been to our own zoo. Well, today I’m finally going to take my time and give it a good look. Maybe I’ll sit in the park and throw peanuts to the pigeons. Or maybe I’ll just take a seat at some bus stop and just people watch for an hour or so. The show is free, you know.”

  Dad took me by surprise with that phrase. I’d heard it before but couldn’t remember where. Then it came to me. Gloria had said that to me during a ride back to Hollywood after we’d visited the Burbank Police Department. She was telling me about a photographer she’d met on Hollywood Boulevard years ago who would take photos of interesting people he came across on the boulevard. His plan was to collect enough interesting photos for a book and call it, ‘The Show Is Free.’ Gloria must have mentioned her encounter with the photographer to Dad some time ago.

  “Maybe I’ll pay Dean a visit,” Dad said. “There’s always something interesting going on at the twelfth precinct.”

  “Maybe he’ll take the day off and go with you to the zoo,” I said, poking a little fun at Dad.

  “Yeah, right,” Dad said. “And he can buy me some cotton candy and tie my shoe for me and…”

  I held up one hand. “Don’t get all defensive,” I said. “I’m just having a little fun with you.”

  “Yeah, well I think I’ve had my quota of fun for today,” Dad said. “I’d better get out of here and let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He looked at me and then over at Gloria, who blushed.

  “Yeah, Dad, you do that,” I said, and walked him to the door. I gave him a pat on the back before he left and told him to call me in the next couple of days. He promised he would and left.

  Gloria looked at me. “Maybe that’ll teach you to lock the office door next time you get any bright ideas.”

  “And her name is G,” I sang.

  “Knock it off, Elliott,” Gloria said. “Don’t we have any real work to do?”

  I smiled and raised both eyebrows, looking somewhat like Groucho Marx.

  “I’m serious,” Gloria said.

  “So am I, little goil,” I said, flicking an imaginary cigar in front of me.

  Gloria pointed to her computer screen. “While you were talking with Clay I was looking up information on Margaret Lewis. Yahoo and Google didn’t come up with any hits, but the court access site sure did. Look at this,” she said, pointing to the screen.

  There were no fewer than a dozen references to Margaret Lewis, most of them referring to restraining orders from men. I recognized at least three of the names on the list as being someone in the entertainment business. The last name on the list was for Jack Holden.

  “Jack the Stripper,” I said. “Well whaddya know? Billy Gibson was right. She is a stalker.”

  “And look at the date of that restraining order,” Gloria said. “Four days ago, one day before Jack Holden left Beefcakes, Unlimited. My guess is that she violated the restraining order and Jack had finally had enough and just split.”

  “I wonder why he didn’t just tell the police about her,” Gloria said.

  “How do you know he didn’t?” I said. “Restraining orders don’t mean much to people like Margaret Lewis. They just have to be close to the objects of their obsession and they don’t give a damn about the consequences.”

  “You know,” Gloria said, “We can always take Billy Gibson up on his offer to find Jack. It would mean income for us and maybe peace of mind for Jack.”

  “You read my mind,” I said. “How about if we pay Mr. Gibson another call?”

  I took my car this time and parked in front of Beefcakes, Unlimited. The front door wasn’t locked so we let ourselves in again and found the circular bar. There was no bartender wiping glasses this time and the place was as quiet as a library.

  “Hello?” I said. “Is there anyone here?” There was no response. I leaned over the bar and looked toward the curtain where I’d first seen Billy Gibson earlier today. There was a sliver of light shining from the one inch space at the bottom of the curtain. “Hello,” I repeated, louder this time. There was still no answer.

  I lifted the hinged section of the bar and let myself in, easing the bar down behind me. I turned to Gloria. “Keep an eye out. I’m go
ing back there.”

  I pulled the curtain aside and walked into the back area. It resembled a small office with a simple desk and chair, probably the place where Gibson counted his receipts. The room was empty. On the right wall was a closed door. I reached for the door knob and then withdrew my hand. I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket and used it to grab the door knob, twisting and pulling at the same time. The door fell open with the weight of the body on the other side.

  The body flopped down onto the floor and landed at my feet. It sprawled out on its back, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. It was Billy Gibson and he sported a fresh bullet hole just above his right eyebrow. The skin around the hole had turned purple and very little blood had trickled down from it. The back of his head showed no exit wound, so I could assume the bullet was still inside his skull, probably a .22 caliber.

  I called out to the bar area. “Gloria,” I yelled. “Come on back here.”

  Gloria lifted the bar section and let herself in. When she came into the back office, her eyes fixed on the corpse on the floor and then she looked up at me. “Gibson?” she said, knowing full well that it was.

  I nodded. “He took one at close range,” I said. “Look at the powder burns around the hole. Someone was standing less than a foot from him when they shot him.”

  “Do you have your cell phone handy?” I said to Gloria.

  She pulled it out of her pocket and held it up.

  “Call Dean at the twelfth precinct,” I said. “He won’t be happy if we keep something like this from him.”

  Gloria dialed the number, waited for it to ring and then handed me the phone. Dean came on the line after the second ring.

  “Hollister,” Dean said.

  “Dean,” I said. “It’s Elliott Cooper.”

  “What are the odds?” Dean said.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “What are the odds that I’d have a Cooper on the phone and a Cooper across my desk from me at the same time?” Dean said. “Are you checking up on your dad?”

  “No,” I said. “This is official business.”

  “Sounds serious,” Dean said.

  “They don’t come any more serious,” I said. “Gloria and I are at Beefcakes, Unlimited over on Sunset Boulevard.”

  “I didn’t know the investigation business was that bad,” Dean said. “Are you thinking about moonlighting as a stripper?”

  “Dean,” I said. “Drop the jokes. I’m in the back office with the owner. He’s dead. Someone put one into his skull.”

  “Don’t touch a thing,” Dean said. “Stay put. I’m on my way.”

  Dean hung up the phone and turned to Clay. “Sorry, Clay, I’ve got to go out. We’ll have to do this another time.”

  “I want to come along,” Clay said. “Elliott’s involved and I want to be there. All right?”

  “All right,” Dean said reluctantly. “Just don’t get yourself all worked up. I can’t handle a murder and a heart attack at the same time.”

  “I’m fine,” Clay said. “Let’s get going.”

  Clay climbed into the cruiser beside Dean. Dean tooled the car east on Sunset and skidded to a stop across the street from the salmon-colored Catholic Church. They checked the traffic on Sunset and started to cross. Dean held up one hand to oncoming traffic and then dashed across the street with Clay close behind. Dean pulled the front door of Beefcakes, Unlimited open and cautiously stepped inside, his .38 in his hand. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  “Elliott?” he called out into the darkness.

  “Back here, Dean,” I said. “Behind the bar.”

  Dean and Clay found the back office and stepped in. Dean looked down at Billy Gibson, looked at the rest of his surroundings and then holstered his revolver.

  “Is this just how you found him?” Dean said.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said, gesturing toward the other door. “I pulled that door open and he fell out into the room.”

  Dean looked at the door.

  “I didn’t touch the door knob without a handkerchief,” I said.

  Dean reached for the radio on his belt and called for a crime scene team and the coroner. He turned back to me. “What were you two doing here?” he said, switching his gaze from me to Gloria and back to me again.

  “We were following up on a recent case,” I said. I gestured to the body on the floor. “This guy’s the owner here, or at least he was, and he wanted to hire Gloria and me to find one of his strippers and convince him to come back to work.”

  Clay thought about this for a moment and then said, “Does this have something to do with Margaret Lewis?”

  “I think so,” I said. “Gloria got on the court access site and found that she’d had a restraining order placed against her to stay away from the stripper that Billy Gibson, here, wanted us to find.” I pointed to the body on the floor.

  “And who’s this Margaret Lewis?” Dean said.

  Clay turned to Dean and said, “Do you remember a couple of years ago when I was working on that case with the stalker? I told you about it at the time. This woman was stalking several somewhat famous men, claiming to be their wives.”

  “Yes,” Dean said. “I seem to remember something about that. Some of the guys were up and coming actors, if I recall.”

  “Same woman,” Clay said. “And now she’s apparently stalking some stripper who worked for this guy and now he’s dead. Too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Dean said. “Either of you know where this Margaret Lewis woman is now?”

  I shrugged and turned to Gloria. “They listed her address on that court site, but we’ve only seen her at our office and she was using the stripper’s last name then.”

  Dean looked at the computer on Gibson’s desk and then gestured at it. “Can you pull up that site on here?” he said to Gloria.

  “Sure,” Gloria said, bending over in front of the computer. She typed in a few commands and the court access site appeared on the screen. She entered Margaret Lewis’s name and then stepped away so Dean could take down the information.

  Dean grabbed his radio again and ordered a pickup for Margaret Lewis at the address he’d just written down. He looked at me with a question on his face. “So now what are you two going to do?” he said. “You have no one left to pay your fee.”

  “I think we should still try to find Jack Holden,” I said. “If for no other reason than to tie up this big loose end for us and for you.”

  “Go ahead,” Dean said. “We don’t want him for anything that I know of. We’ll have our hands full chasing down Margaret Lewis. Just the same, Elliott, let me know what you turn up, will you?”

  “You bet, Dean,” I said and then gestured to Gloria. “Let’s get moving,” I told her.

  “Goodbye,” Gloria said, mostly to Clay, but then looked at Dean as well.

  Gloria and I got back into my car and pulled away from the curb. “Any ideas about where we should start looking for Holden?” I said, without taking my eyes off the road.

  “Seems to me we need to get a line on him somehow,” she said. “Who’s that contact you have at City Hall in the records?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Dad and grandpa always used to have an in with Eva Bishop, but I think she died a few years after she retired from there. I guess we’ll just have to walk in and use our charm on whoever took Eva’s place.”

  “In other words,” Gloria said, “You want me to do the talking?”

  “Now that would be interesting,” I said. “I could get a first-hand lesson on schmoozing. Go ahead, see what you can do?”

  I drove downtown and parked in the City Hall parking lot. We climbed the steps and walked into the cool air. The directory in the main hallway told us which hallway to take to get to the records department. Gloria and I walked in and stepped up to the counter. There was a brass nameplate on the counter that identified the records clerk as one Delbert Smithers. Next to the nameplate sat a
small push-button bell. Gloria brought her palm down on the plunger and the bell dinged once. A young man, perhaps in his late twenties, emerged from somewhere unseen and stepped up to the counter. Gloria looked at me and I urged her to step up.

  Gloria looked at the young man, smiled and said, “Are you Delbert Smithers?”

  The man agreed that he was and said, “How may I help you today?”

  Gloria leaned in closer and said, “I need information on a Jack or maybe John Holden. Would you have a record of any property transfers in that name?”

  Delbert swiveled his body toward a computer screen that sat on the counter. He pulled a keyboard on a rolling shelf out from under the counter and typed in the name Gloria had asked for. “Holden,” he said. “Let’s try John first.” He typed in the first name and came up with a blank screen. “Okay,” he said, “Let’s try Jack.” Again he typed on the keyboard and then said, “Here we go. Jack Holden.” Delbert wrote the name and the address down on a slip of paper and slid it across the counter to Gloria.

  Gloria looked at the address and then looked at Delbert. “I already have this address,” she said. “Could you check if there are any other entries under his name?”

  Delbert hit the scroll key and the screen scrolled up, displaying a second entry. “Ah,” he said. “He has one other address up in the Hollywood Hills.” He wrote that address down on the back of the first slip he’d given Gloria. “Will there be anything else?”

  “That should do it, Delbert,” she said. Thank you so much.” She laid her hand on top of his and he blushed, pulling his hand back. His eyes got wide and he seemed genuinely embarrassed.

  I stepped up to the counter and nudged Gloria to one side. “Excuse me,” I told Delbert. “Could you check one more address as long as you have the screen up?”

  “Go ahead,” Delbert said. “Give me the name.”

  “Margaret Lewis,” I said. “Do you have anything on her?”

  Delbert typed Margaret’s name into the computer and waited. A second later the screen came up blank. Delbert looked up at me. “Sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing under that name.”