The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

by Bernico, Bill

  “I don’t know,” Gloria said offhandedly. “He probably mentioned it someplace and I just remembered what it was.”

  “I thought of that,” I said. “But then how did you know where he kept his liquor?”

  “In the liquor cabinet,” Gloria said. “Isn’t that where you’d expect to find liquor? Say, what is this, some kind of third degree?”

  I held up one hand. “I’m just curious about how you knew both of those things, that’s all,” I said. “No need to get so defensive.”

  “Well,” Gloria said. “Your voice was a bit accusatory and I don’t like it.”

  “Forget I even mentioned it,” I said. I dropped her at her car and left again without further comment. I couldn’t let something like this cloud my judgment when I was supposed to be concentrating on finding whoever it was who was threatening Dad. There’d be plenty of time later for a more in-depth talk with Gloria.

  Gloria drove to the main branch of the Los Angeles Trust Bank downtown and was lucky enough to find a parking space almost in front of the building. She stuck a quarter in the meter and walked inside. It was a large bank in an older building that looked like it could have been held up by the likes of John Dillinger when it was new. Gloria walked up to the first open teller window she saw.

  “May I help you?” the teller said, showing a big smile.

  “Yes,” Gloria said. “Can you tell me who’s in charge here?”

  The teller thought for a moment and then said, “Our head teller is…”

  “Higher,” Gloria said. “I’m looking for a manager or a president, someone like that.”

  “You probably want to talk to Miss Chalmers,” the teller said. “Just turn around and her desk is straight across the room.” She pointed to a large desk behind a thigh-high partition of wooden spindles.

  “Thank you,” Gloria said, turning around and stepping up to the desk.

  Sitting behind the desk, Gloria found a middle-aged woman in a gray business suit, her hair tied up behind her head and a no-nonsense look on her face. The nameplate on her desk identified her as Anita Chalmers.

  “Excuse me,” Gloria said. “I asked for the person in charge here and the teller over there told me to come and talk to you. Are you the president of this bank?”

  “Not quite,” Chalmers said. “That would be Mr. Woodcock. I’m his personal secretary. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I really need to see Mr. Woodcock,” Gloria said. “It’s a confidential matter and it’s pretty urgent. Would you tell him I’m here and that I need just a few minutes of his time?”

  “He’s a very busy man,” Chalmers said. “Are you sure you can’t talk to me about it?”

  “Only if you can authorize my looking through your records,” Gloria said.

  “I’m not sure that even Mr. Woodcock could do that,” Chalmers said. “Confidentiality, you know.”

  Gloria pulled out the leather case holding her badge and I.D. and held it so Miss Chalmers could see it. “Someone’s life may depend on my request,” Gloria said. “Now would you at least tell him that I’m here?”

  Miss Chalmers held one finger up, turned around and knocked twice on the large mahogany door before opening it and stepping inside. She returned in less than a minute and nodded to Gloria.

  “Mr. Woodcock will see you now,” Chalmers said. “Right this way, please.”

  Miss Chalmers led Gloria into a large office with beautiful dark wood trim everywhere. In front of a large picture window Gloria saw the biggest desk she’d ever seen. She wondered how they even got it through the door she’d just entered. Chalmers gestured with an open hand toward Gloria and said, “Mr. Woodcock, this is Gloria Campbell from Cooper Investigations.” She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Paul Woodcock stood and extended his hand to Gloria, who took it and gave it three short pumps. “Won’t you have a seat, Miss Campbell,” he said.

  Gloria sat in a plush leather chair facing Paul Woodcock’s desk and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “So,” Woodcock said, taking his seat again, “I’m sure Miss Chalmers explained about our customers’ confidentiality. I don’t know how much information I can give you. What is it you’d like to know?”

  “Oh, I don’t want to see anyone’s records in particular,” Gloria said. “What I’d like to know is whether or not anyone or any company has come to any branch of this bank looking for an unusually large sum of working capital. You know, like a line of credit.”

  “And just why do you need that information?” Woodcock said suspiciously.

  Without naming Phelps, Gloria told Mr. Woodcock all the other details leading up to the threatening calls made to Clay. She explained how she and Clay and Elliott had narrowed the suspect down to just one man. Mr. Woodcock listened intently and waited until Gloria had finished before he spoke.

  “Miss, Campbell,” Woodcock said, “As long as no actual names are being revealed here, I think I can tell you that yes, we do have one business customer who has recently applied for a line of credit with our bank, but that’s all I can tell you. You understand, of course.

  “Of course,” Gloria said. “You’re just doing your job. Can you tell me how much the line of credit was that this business customer applied for?”

  Woodcock shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Campbell,” he said. “That part, I’m afraid, is confidential.”

  “Fair enough,” Gloria said. “By the way, Mr. Woodcock,” she said. “If our business, Cooper Investigations, wanted to apply for a line of credit, could you do that for us?”

  “Certainly,” Woodcock said. “How much would you need?”

  “Oh, we wouldn’t need any more than that last customer got,” Gloria said. “I’m sure we could squeak by with that amount.”

  “I’m sure you could,” Woodcock said, “but what would a private investigator need with five hundred thou…” Woodcock stopped in mid-sentence. He knew he had been had. He blushed and looked at the floor momentarily.

  Gloria held up both hands, palms toward Mr. Woodcock. “I didn’t hear anything,” she said. “And if I did, I would be sure to keep it in the strictest of confidences. Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Woodcock.” Gloria rose from her seat, nodded politely at Paul Woodcock and turned to leave.

  “Miss Campbell,” Woodcock said, “Thank you for your discretion. It could mean my job if that information got out.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Woodcock,” Gloria said, and then turned back toward the bank’s president. “You know, Mr. Woodcock,” she said. “As long as you’ve let this much of the proverbial cat out of the bag, and as long as I swear on your dead mother’s eyes that I’d never reveal…”

  “My mother’s very much alive, thank you,” Woodcock interrupted.

  “And as long as this is, as I’ve told you, a life and death matter,” Gloria continued. “I’m sure I could be persuaded to absolutely keep this to myself if…” She paused, though about the wording for the sentence to follow and continued. “If you could somehow let me know the name of this customer.”

  Woodcock shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Campbell,” he said, “but that’s where I draw the line. I can’t tell you the customer’s name and you know it.”

  “No, I guess you couldn’t,” Gloria said. “But you could leave the file open on your desk and then suddenly feel the urge to turn away and look out your window. That way, my lips would be sealed and you would not have told me the customer’s name. As far as you’re concerned, you have no idea how I got that information. On the other hand, if the information slips out of my mouth and the bank examiners would happen to ask me, well, I guess I’d have to tell them…”

  Paul Woodcock thought about his options for a moment and then cocked his ear toward the window. “Did you hear that?” he said, turning toward his window. “Sounded like a car accident.” He stared out the window, his back to Gloria and the file that lay open on his desk.r />
  Gloria leaned over Woodcock’s desk, saw the customer’s name, straightened back up and then joined Woodcock at the window. “I don’t see any car accident,” she said. “I’d better get going. Thanks for your time, Mr. Woodcock.”

  Without further comment from either of them, Gloria let herself out of Paul Woodcock’s office and walked straight back to her car.

  Clay parked in the parking lot behind the twelfth precinct and walked down the hallway that was so familiar to him. Dean wasn’t in his office so Clay roamed the adjacent halls, heading toward the front door. The desk sergeant recognized Clay.

  “Clay Cooper,” the sergeant said. “Good to see you again. How’s the old ticker?”

  Clay patted his chest. “Sound as a dollar,” he said and then realized that the economy was not in the best shape these days. “That is, sound as a Euro. They’re doing all right over there, aren’t they?”

  “Beats me,” the sergeant said. “I have enough trouble keeping track of where my paycheck goes every week. What’s up?”

  “I’m looking for Lieutenant Hollister,” Clay said. “Know where I can find him?”

  The desk sergeant glanced down at his duty roster and ran a finger down the page. “He should be in the lunch room,” he told Clay.

  Clay glanced at his watch. “Lunch at nine forty-five?” he said.

  “Special meeting,” the sergeant said. “It goes until ten, so if you want to hang around and wait for him, I’m sure it would be all right.”

  “Thanks,” Clay said. “I think I’ll wander a little more, if that’s okay.”

  “Knock yourself out,” the sergeant said. “A little walking is probably good for your heart anyway.”

  Clay walked the hallways, stopping occasionally to look at awards, plaques, and photos of fallen policemen. Some of the dead cops looked to be around Elliott’s age and Clay thought about what a waste of life it was that these men had to die so early. He moved on, unwilling to think about how he’d feel if anything ever happened to Elliott.

  Clay continued down the hallway when he saw Gloria walking towards him. He smiled when she caught up with him. “What are you doing here?” Clay said.

  “Well,” Gloria said, “I finished up at the bank and I knew you were coming here so I decided to meet you and maybe sit in on your meeting with Dean, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure,” Clay said. “Dean’s still in a meeting for another ten minutes or so. What did you find out at the bank?”

  “I can fill you in on that later,” Gloria said, turning to look down the hall. She spotted a wooden bench and pulled Clay toward it. “But right now I need to talk to you about something important.”

  “What is it?” Clay said, sitting on the bench.

  Gloria sat next to him and said, “When we left your house, Elliott asked me how I knew what your usual drink was and how I knew where you kept your liquor. He kind of caught me off guard.”

  “And what did you tell him?” Clay said.

  “Nothing,” Gloria said. “I just copped an attitude and told him that he was sounding accusatory and that I didn’t like it. We moved away from the subject and he dropped me at my car.”

  “What can I do?” Clay said. “I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to what you two have. It seems like you both have something special.”

  Gloria laid her hand on Clay’s forearm. “Oh, we do, Clay,” she told him. “I had no idea that Elliott was the jealous type, though. I can’t even imagine what he’d say or do if he ever found out about us.”

  Clay thought about it for a moment and then offered, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have a talk with that son of mine. Before I’m through with him, he’ll be buying you flowers and apologizing to you.”

  “Just don’t be so obvious,” Gloria said. “He’d see right through you in a minute. Do you know what you’re going to say to him? I’d like to know so that I can be prepared if he wants to talk with me about this later on.”

  “I’ll just tell him that you had stopped over at my house while I was recuperating,” Clay said. “I can tell him that I was sitting in the living room and that it was a bit of a strain for me to get up, so I asked you to fix me a drink. Naturally, I’d have to tell you where to find the liquor and I’d have to tell you what I wanted.”

  “And during the course of that time,” Gloria said, “You told me that a White Russian was your usual drink and that most bartenders around town also knew that.”

  “Sounds innocent enough,” Clay said.

  “And believable,” Gloria added. “Thanks, Clay. I owe you one.”

  “One what?” Clay said, raising his eyebrows.

  Gloria placed her hand over Clay’s heart and said, “Now now, let’s not get excited here. You know what that could do to your heart, and I don’t want that responsibility hanging over me again.”

  Clay patted Gloria’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. Elliott’s a reasonable man. He’ll come around.”

  Gloria stood and grabbed Clay’s hand, pulling him upright. The two of them continued walking down the hall toward the lunchroom. Clay glanced at the wall clock above the lunchroom doors. It was a minute before ten and he could hear harried conversation coming from behind the doors. It looked like the meeting was letting out on time.

  The double doors opened and two-dozen uniformed officers filed out and disbursed into the hallway, going to their assigned patrol cars with their assigned partners. Dean was the last one out of the room and smiled when he spotted Gloria and Clay.

  “Does Elliott know you’re stealing his girl?” Dean said, winking at Gloria.

  Clay and Gloria kept their straight faces. “You’ll keep this to yourself, won’t you?” Clay said and then broke out into a broad smile. Gloria took his cue and smiled as well.

  Dean held his palms up. “Mum’s the word,” he said. “What brings you two here this morning?”

  “Can we talk?” Clay said.

  Dean studied Clay’s face. “Sounds serious,” he said. “What is it?”

  “Not here,” Clay said.

  “Let’s go to my office,” Dean said, glancing at his wristwatch. “I still have a few minutes before my next meeting.

  The three of them sat in Dean’s office and Clay laid out the whole scenario for him, ending with the threatening phone calls. “I think we’ve narrowed it down to John Phelps,” Clay said. “We’re looking into his background and recent activities. Elliott’s checking the phone and utility company records and Gloria stopped at the bank to see if anyone or any company has recently applied for an unusually large line of credit.”

  Gloria leaned forward in her chair. “I did find out,” she said, “but I swore to the bank president that I wouldn’t tell anyone what he had let slip to me.”

  Clay looked a bit worried and turned to Gloria.

  “It’s Phelps,” she said. “But he’s using another name and he just got a five hundred thousand dollar line of credit downtown. There, are you happy that you forced it out of me?”

  Dean smiled broadly. “Gees, you’re easy,” he said and then realized the double meaning behind his statement. “That is, I mean…”

  “Never mind,” Gloria said. “I know what you meant. So what do we do now?”

  “What name is he using now?” Clay said.

  “Pearson,” Gloria said. “Russell Pearson. He recently acquired a large warehouse and it looks like he’s preparing to open his new business in the next few months.”

  “And I’ll bet he has backers supplying the rest of the money,” Clay said. “The initial five hundred grand from the bank would just be startup capital. He’d need millions to get the business up and running and that means backers.”

  “And those backers would pull out if the book came out,” Dean said.

  “He is probably thinking along those lines,” Clay said.

  “But you say you didn’t record his calls to you,” Dean said.

  “Even if I had,” Clay told him, “he whispered probably t
rying to avoid voice prints. So all you have is my word about what happened and he could always deny that it was he who made those calls.”

  “We’ll have to catch him in the act,” Gloria said.

  “We’ll be keeping a close eye on Phelps,” Dean said. “Or Pearson, whatever he’s calling himself.”

  “Thanks Dean,” Clay said. “When this is all over, you’ll have to let me buy you dinner.”

  “Including dessert?” Dean added.

  “Including dessert,” I said.

  “I’m an expensive eater,” Dean said. “Could run into a couple of bucks.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’ll be on me. Listen, Gloria and I have to get going. Let’s keep in touch with each other on this thing.”

  “You got it, buddy,” Dean said.

  Clay and Gloria drove back to their office and parked in a space in front of their building. Gloria let herself out on the passenger side while Clay exited into the street and walked around to the sidewalk. When he caught up to where Gloria was standing a shot rang out and a piece of the brickwork next to Clay’s head shattered. The bullet ricocheted off in a different direction, making a high-pitched whirring sound that faded in the distance. Clay pulled Gloria’s head down and they both ducked into the lobby of their building.

  Gloria pulled out her cell phone and hit the speed dial button for Dean’s office. She got him on the first ring. “Dean,” Gloria said, her voice a little higher pitched than usual. “It’s Gloria. Dean and I were just shot at in front of our building. I don’t know if the shooter’s still out there, but he just missed our heads by inches. Be careful.”

  “We’re on our way,” Dean said. “Stay inside. Did you notice where the shot came from?”

  “From someplace across the street but not that high up,” Gloria said. “The bullet ricocheted almost straight east. If he was higher up, the bullet would have bounced onto the sidewalk at our feet.”

  “I have a squad in the area,” Dean said. “He should be there in a minute or less. I’ll be right there myself.” Dean hung up and hurried out to his cruiser.

  The elevator door opened into the lobby and I hurried out and toward the front door. I stopped when I saw Gloria and Dad, both of them crouching, trying to see out onto the street and both of them with their guns drawn.