“Granted,” I said. “You’re not family yet, but one day soon you will be.”
She smiled at me and waved as I left the office. Fifteen minutes later I was standing on Dad’s porch knocking on the door. I could hear him from the kitchen, yelling for me to let myself in. I came in and closed the door, hanging my jacket on the coat hook near the door.
Dad came out from the kitchen carrying a bottle of beer and a can of Pepsi. He handed me the Pepsi. “Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind,” he said.
I sat and started right in with what happened this morning at the post office. I handed him the plastic bag and he slipped the old envelope out and retrieved the single sheet letter. I sipped my soda while he read the entire letter twice. He set the let on the coffee table and then looked up at me.
“A brother?” he said.
“Half-brother, actually,” I said. “But, yeah, that’s quite a jolt out of nowhere, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say,” Dad replied. “Now what?”
“Let me finish my story and then ask me again,” I said, continuing where I’d left off and ending with our meeting with Nicholas Sawyer. I waited in silence for the new information to sink in. It took Dad a few moments before he could think of anything to say.
“Hmmmp,” was all he could think of. “Did he say he’d like to meet me?” Dad asked.
“He’d like that very much,” I assured him, handing him the scrap of paper with Nicholas’s phone number. “He said you could call him any time you like. He was recently widowed and he’s living all alone in that house in Inglewood. That can’t be too much fun living that close to the airport. It’s got to be noisy as all hell.”
“I don’t know what I’d say on the phone,” Dad said. “Maybe I should just drive over there and see him. Would you like to come along?”
“Dad,” I said, “Maybe it would be best if it was just the two of you, you know, brother to brother.”
“Half-brother to half-brother,” Dad said, smiling. “I think I will go see him. Thanks for letting me know about him. Gees, what he must have been thinking all these years. I wish Dad would have gotten that letter and had a chance to meet Nicholas himself.”
“Call me the minute you get back,” I said. “I want to know everything. Better yet, stop by the office. That way I won’t have to re-tell the story to Gloria later.”
Clay drove south to Inglewood and pulled up in front of Nicholas’s house. He paused momentarily, wondering what he’d say and how Nicholas would react. He soon realized that he’d never find out by sitting in his car at the curb. Clay walked up the sidewalk and had not even stepped up onto the porch when the front door opened and he saw Nicholas standing there smiling. Clay smiled back and stepped all the way up onto the porch.
“You must be Clay,” Nicholas said. “I can see Dad in your eyes.”
Clay found it strange to hear another man talking about Matt as his father, too. He looked back at Nicholas. “I can see some of him in your face, as well,” Clay said.
Nicholas invited Clay in and the two sat speechless for a moment, not sure what to say or who should say it. Clay broke the silence as he held up the sixty-six year-old letter. “Kind of gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘snail mail’, doesn’t it?”
Nicholas smiled broadly and nodded. “Yes it does,” he said. “I wonder what the record is for the longest time it took for a letter to get to where it was supposed to go.”
“I haven’t got a clue,” Clay said, and then fell silent again.
They both started to speak at the same time and both stopped, waiting for the other to continue. “Go ahead,” Nicholas said.
“What did you think when you saw the letter again?” Clay said.
“I was both disappointed and relieved,” Nicholas answered. “Disappointed that Dad never got to read it, and relieved that it wasn’t a case of him reading it and ignoring it.”
Clay nodded. “That had to be a something of a shock to see what you wrote after all that time,” he said.
“When I saw it again,” Nicholas explained, “it was as if I was fourteen again. It’s funny how some of the same old feelings come back to you after that much time. I could picture exactly where I was sitting and what I was thinking when I wrote it. My mother had recently died and all I could think about was that I had a father out there somewhere and how much I wanted to meet him. Mother told me that he had died when I was young, but I expect she was just trying to spare me any more pain.”
“She sounds like she was a wonderful woman,” Clay said. “I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet her. Tell me, Nicholas, do you have any other siblings?”
“None, I’m sorry to say,” Nicholas told him. “Mother never did get married and it was just the two of us for the longest time.”
Clay laid his hand on Nicholas’s knee. “Well,” he said, “you’ve got one now, like it or not.”
Clay?” Nicholas said. “Your son and that girl were delightful this morning.”
“Thank you, Nicholas,” Clay said. “He’s a great kid. I’m really proud of him.”
“I forgot to ask him when he was here,” Nicholas said. “What do you do for a living, if I may ask?”
“You may indeed,” I said. “I’m a private investigator, like Dad before me. My son and Gloria are also private eyes. Elliott is the third generation in the business that my dad, I mean our dad started here back in the mid-forties.”
“So that’s what Dad did,” Nicholas said. “I always wondered. Mother said she thought he was a policeman. She was close.”
“She was also correct,” Clay said. “Dad was a policeman before he became a private eye—first with the Chicago police and then later on after he moved out here, with the Los Angeles police. He didn’t become a private eye until after he’d left the L.A. department. I joined him when I turned twenty-one and stayed with it for more than forty years. I just retired this year, as a matter of fact. Elliott took over the business after I retired. We’re still operating out of the same office that Dad first used.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Nicholas said.
“Would you like to see where Dad worked one of these days?” Clay said.
“Oh, yes,” Nicholas said. “Very much, thank you.”
“Listen,” Clay said. “We’re both retired and probably don’t have to check any schedule in order to do anything. How would you like to see it right now?”
“Could we?” Nicholas said. “That would be splendid.”
Clay rose from the chair and pulled Nicholas to his feet. “Just one quick question,” Clay said. “What did people call you—Nicholas or Nick?”
“Most people called me Nick,” he said. “I wish you would, too, Clay.”
“Let’s go, Nick,” Clay said, helping Nick on with his jacket and walking him out to the car. “I’ll drive you home when we’re done.”
On the ride back to Hollywood, Nick pointed out the window at a boarded up building. “I used to work there when I was younger,” Nick said. “Back then it was a night club called The Jazz Club. That was, oh, probably 1955 or ‘56.”
“Really?” Clay said. “Were you a bartender?”
Nick laughed. “Lord, no. I played there. I was a musician. I started playing piano when I was ten and I still play a little bit these days. And you know, after seventy-five years I still can’t read a note of music. I’ve always played by ear. I guess I just had a natural knack for it.”
“That’s amazing,” Clay said. “I dabble with the guitar a little, but I’m sure I’m not in your league, by any stretch of the imagination. It was just a hobby for me. But you, my goodness, you say you made a living playing?”
“Fifty-three years,” Nick said. “I played my last public job when I was sixty-eight. That was twelve years ago.”
“Do you miss it?” Clay said.
“Sometimes,” Nick said. “But I’m sure that’s just because I remember all the good times. There were probably a few bad times, but somehow you
tend to forget those and remember only the good times. That’s the way it was with me.”
Twenty minutes later Clay pulled his car into the parking lot behind his building. “Well,” he said, turning off the ignition, “This is it—third floor in front. It ain’t much, but it’s home. Come on, I’ll give you the fifty cents tour.
Clay showed Nick the front lobby and then rode to the elevator to the third floor. He walked Nick to the end of the hall and opened the door. Nick’s face brightened when he saw the Cooper name on the outer office door. He perked up again when Clay opened the inner office door and he saw Elliott and Gloria again.
“Hello again, Mr. Sawyer,” Gloria said, rising from her desk.
“What brings you here, Mr. Sawyer?” I said.
“Okay,” Nick said. “I let it slide at my house because we’d just met, but now that we know each other, it’s Nick, okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “What brings you here, Nick?”
“I told him you were working out of Dad’s original office and Nick wanted to see it,” Clay said, offering Nick a seat.
Nick waved him off. “Could I just look around for a little while first?” he said.
“Sure,” Clay said. “Take your time.”
Nick walked around the office, looking at every little detail and studying every framed photo on the walls. He stopped in front of a photo of Grandpa Matt and Dad holding a wooden sign that read Cooper and Son with letters that had been routed into the wood. Nick turned to Clay. “Is that you and Dad?” he said.
“That was 1971 when I joined Dad here in the business,” Clay said. “After Dad retired, I took the sign down and changed the business name back to Cooper Investigations.”
Nick turned to Elliott. “And now it’s just you and Gloria?”
“Looks like it,” I said.
“Are you keeping the Cooper and Son sign in good condition for that day down the road?” Nick said.
I looked at Gloria and smiled. “You never know,” I said. I turned to Dad. “What are you two doing in town, besides giving my office an inspection?”
Dad shrugged. “We don’t know yet,” he said. “Nick and I thought we’d just wing it.” He turned to Nick. “Do you have any ideas, Nick?”
Nick shook his head. “I’m still trying to get used to having a family again,” he said. “After Bess, that was my wife, after Bess died I thought I was the end of the Sawyer line.”
“Didn’t you and Bess have any children?” Gloria said.
“We had two,” Nick said. “Carol and Joey.” Nick smiled at the memory, then his smile faded.
“Won’t Joey keep the family name going?” Gloria said.
Nick shook his head and then lowered it to his chest. “They’re both gone now,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” Gloria said. “I had no idea.”
“Carol was twelve and Joey was just ten,” Nick said. “They were spending a week in Chicago with my Uncle, Art. At the end of the week Art put them on a plane for Los Angeles. The plane never made it. It went down in the Rocky Mountains just this side of Colorado.”
Clay stepped up to Nick and laid his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Come on, Nick,” Clay said trying to divert Nick’s maudlin thoughts. “What do you say you and me hit the town, or at least hit a restaurant?”
Nick took a deep breath and sat up straight again. “Now that you mention it, I am a little hungry,” he said. “Just let me use the washroom first.” Nick stepped into our bathroom and closed the door.
“So,” Clay said to me, “would you two like to join us?”
“Ordinarily we would,” I said, “but Gloria and I have to take a drive to Pasadena to see a potential client. We’ll be gone a couple of hours, so why don’t you two just go by yourselves and have some fun?”
I caught Gloria’s eye and jerked my head toward the door. “You ready?” I said.
Gloria nodded, grabbed her jacket and followed me out the door.
No sooner had they left than Nick emerged from the bathroom. He looked around the room and saw only Clay. “Where did they go?” he said.
“They had to drive to Pasadena to see someone about a job,” Clay said. “They won’t be back for a couple of hours. So how about that restaurant? Any place in particular you’d like to go?”
Before Nick could answer the phone on Elliott’s desk rang. Clay hurried to the office door, stepped out into the outer office, opened the hall door and looked toward the elevator. Elliott and Gloria were already gone. He hurried back to Elliott’s desk and instinctively picked up the phone. “Cooper Investigations,” Clay said. “Clay Cooper speaking. Yes, uh huh. Well, I don’t know if… Sure, but… Could you hold for just a second, please?”
Clay turned to Nick. “Listen, Nick,” Clay said, “Elliott and Gloria are out and I have someone on the phone who needs our services right away. Can we take a rain check on lunch today?”
“Sure,” Nick said, waving his hand at me. “Business comes first. You go ahead and take the job.”
“What about you?” Clay said. “You rode here with me.”
Clay got back on the phone again. “I’m sorry,” Clay said, “But could you hold for just a few more seconds, please? Thank you.”
He pressed the mouth piece to his chest and turned to Nick again. “Would you like to come with me on this call, Nick?” Clay said. “It might not take that long and then we could drive straight to the restaurant from there?”
“That’d be nice,” Nick said. “Go on, tell him you’ll meet with him.”
Clay pulled the phone off his chest and held it to his face again. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Clay said. “I can be there shortly. Would fifteen minutes from now work out for you? Terrific, give me that address again. Thank you. I’ll see you then. Good bye.” Clay hung up the phone, tore the piece of paper with the name and address out of the notebook and tucked it in his pocket.
Clay turned to Nick. “Well,” Clay said. “Let’s go see why this fellow thinks he needs a private eye.”
Nick followed Clay out of the office, down the hall and rode the elevator to the ground floor. They both slid into Clay’s car and Clay pulled out of the lot and headed west on Hollywood Boulevard. Clay pulled the note from his pocket and passed it over to Nick. “Would you read me that address again, Nick?” Clay said.
Nick unfolded the paper and read, “624 North Laurel Avenue, wherever that is.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Clay said. “We just take Highland Avenue south to Melrose and Melrose west to Laurel, probably somewhere between Melrose and Clinton.”
“Sounds like you know the city pretty well,” Nick said.
“I was born here,” Clay explained. “And I spent more than forty years chasing around this city on one case or another. Tell me, Nick, how do you like Southern California compared to living in Chicago? I’ll bet you don’t get homesick when the snow starts flying back east.”
“I went back to Chicago two years ago, last February,” Nick said. “It was shortly after Bess died. I spent a few days kicking around my old neighborhood and by the time I left to fly back out here, I wasn’t homesick anymore.”
“I hear you,” Clay said. “Dad was from Chicago, as you know, and he took me back there when I was fifteen or sixteen and that was also during the winter. It felt so good to step off the plane once we touched down in warm, sunny Los Angeles again.”
Nick looked down at the paper again and then glanced out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of a house number. “There it is,” he said, pointing to a white stucco house with a red Spanish tile roof and a perfectly manicured yard.
Clay maneuvered his car to the curb and got out, walking around to the passenger door and helping his big brother up and out of the low riding car. There was no sidewalk up to the house, so the two of them walked up the driveway and then followed a small path to the front door. Nick stood alongside Clay while he rang the doorbell. We waited a moment before the door opened and a middle-aged ma
n in slacks and a golf shirt greeted us.
“Kenneth Lockhart?” Clay said.
Lockhart nodded and opened his door all the way, even as Clay was introducing himself and Nick. “Please, come in,” Lockhart said, quickly closing the door behind the two men. He gestured toward a blue sofa and invited the two men to sit.
“Mr. Lockhart,” Clay said, “I understand you’d like to hire Cooper Investigations to look into a matter for you, is that correct?”
“That’s right,” Lockhart said. “And speed is of the essence in this matter.”
“How’s that?” Clay said.
“I need immediate action,” Lockhart said, “or he’ll get away with it and ruin me.”
Clay looked puzzled. “Who’ll get away with what?” Clay said.
Lockhart wrung his hands and paced. “I own a business called Lockdown Industries,” Lockhart explained. “My partner’s name is Vernon Downs and we started a business that installs burglar alarms for residential customers.”
“And?” Clay said.
“And Vern has disappeared,” Lockhart said. “He said he was going out to install a new system in Beverly Hills yesterday morning and he hasn’t returned to the office yet. A job like that normally takes five or six hours and I expected him back yesterday afternoon.”
“So you’re saying this is a missing persons case?” Clay said. “Did you check with that last customer or call the police?”
“I can’t” Lockhart said. “A thing like this would ruin us.”
“Suppose you back up to the beginning,” Clay said. “I’m not following you so far.”
Lockhart sat in a straight-backed chair across from Nick and Clay and leaned toward then, his forearms resting on his knees. “About a week ago,” Lockhart began, “Vern and I got to talking over a few drinks after work one night. He offhandedly remarked how easy it would be to get back into a house with one of our systems installed in it, since we’d know how to bypass everything we’d installed. I gave him a strange look and asked if he was kidding and he said he was, but I don’t know. I got the feeling he was just looking for a reaction from me.”
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 208