Elliott hurried over and pulled the gag off the officer’s mouth. “Are you okay?” Elliott said.
The cop let out a huge breath and nodded. “I’ll be all right,” he said. “Cut me down, please.”
Elliott found a retractable box cutter on the workbench and cut the ropes away from the cop’s wrists. The cop’s knees gave out and he fell to the floor, whimpering. Elliott cut the rope off the cop’s ankles and helped him to his feet.
“Over there,” the cop finally said, pointing to a firewood box. “In the box.”
Elliott lifted the lid to the box and found two other people, one on top of the other. From the looks and the smell, they’d been dead for a few days. Elliott closed the lid again and got away from there quickly, bending over and trying to keep his lunch from coming up.
He returned to the cop and pulled the cop’s arm around his own shoulder. The cop rested on Elliott’s shoulder and slowly made his way back to the stairs. They made it back to the kitchen after a long struggle with the stairs. Dean looked at the cop and his eyes got wide. It was Sergeant Eric Anderson. His face was bloody and swollen and his wrists were raw.
“Sergeant,” Dean said. “What happened?”
Anderson’s voice was weak and raspy. “Could I have a drink of water?” he said.
Gloria found a glass in the cupboard and opened the faucet on the kitchen sink. She rinsed out the glass, emptied it and filled it again, handing it to Anderson. Anderson took several swallows and set the glass down. He coughed and cleared his throat and finally said, “I was just going through the files and thought I’d talk with the Archers and see if anything jumped out at me.” He gestured toward Clyde’s body. “It did—him. He and that animal of a son got the jump on me and dragged me downstairs.”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his explanation when the front door opened again and several other officers came in, their guns drawn.
“In here,” Dean yelled from the kitchen.
Two men in white came in directly behind the cops and hurried over to where Dean sat holding his side with the bloody towel. They helped him out of the chair and onto their gurney. One of them started an IV and connected to Dean’s arm while the other applied a dressing to Dean’s wound and kept pressure on it as Dean was wheeled out to the ambulance.
The officers hurried to Sergeant Anderson’s side and eased him to the floor. “Just lay quiet until they come back in with another gurney,” one of the officers told him. A few moments later one of the ambulance attendants came back in with a second gurney. The officers helped him lift Sergeant Anderson up onto it and he was quickly wheeled out to the waiting ambulance.
Another cop cut the cables from Sarah’s wrists and replaced it with a pair of his handcuffs. They took Sarah and her son out to the patrol car and placed them into the back seat. When the dust had cleared, the patrol car and the ambulance were on their way downtown. That left one pair of officers in the house with Elliott and Gloria and Clyde’s body.
“Better call the coroner,” Gloria said to one of the remaining officer. “This one’s not going anywhere.”
“And there are two more in the firewood box in the basement,” Elliott said. “It’s a real mess down there.”
One of the officers called Andy Reynolds and asked for the crime scene team to come as well and to bring three body bags with them. Gloria and Elliott stuck around until the medical examiner and the crime scene team showed up before they left.
The two of them drove to the hospital and waited as Dean was rushed into surgery to close the gaping wound in his side. As they sat in the waiting room, Helen Hollister walked in, her eyes red. Elliott and Gloria stood up and greeted her as she approached them. Elliott threw his arms around her and hugged her.
“Have you heard how Dean’s doing yet?” Helen said, more than a trace of panic in her voice.
“We’re still waiting,” Gloria said. “The doctor said he’d let us know when he was finished.”
“What about Sergeant Anderson?” Helen said. “They told me he was in pretty rough shape as well.”
“He’s in there right now, too,” Elliott said. “From what I could see, most of his injuries are external. He should make a full recovery.”
A pair of double swing doors opened and a doctor garbed in green scrubs emerged, pulling the mask down off his face. Helen ran up to him. “How is Dean Hollister doing?” she said.
“I just stitched him up and he’s doing very well,” the doctor said. “He was very lucky. Another inch or so and things might not have turned out so well for him. They’re bringing him down to recovery now. You can see him in a few minutes.”
Helen threw her arms around the doctor’s neck and hugged him. “Thank you, doctor,” she said, tears running down her face. She turned back to Elliott, who grabbed both of her hands and squeezed.
“See,” Elliott said. “I knew he’d be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”
A nurse walked over to where we were standing. “Are you friends of Sergeant Anderson?” she said.
“Yes,” Elliott said. “How’s he doing?”
“Is your name Elliott Cooper?” the nurse asked.
Elliott nodded.
“He’s asking for you,” she said. “Down that hall, first room on the right, number two-eleven.”
“Thank you, nurse,” Elliott said. He turned to Gloria. “It’ll still be a few minutes before we can look in on Dean. Would you stay with Helen for a minute?”
“Sure,” Gloria said. “Go ahead.”
Elliott stepped into Eric’s room and found him propped up on the single bed. He smiled when Elliott came in and motioned him over.
“How do you feel?” Elliot said.
“I’ll live,” Eric said. “They want to keep me overnight for observation, but I’ll be going home in the morning. How’s Lieutenant Hollister doing?”
“We’ll know in a few minutes,” Elliott said. “He’s out of surgery and they brought him down to recovery. We’re going there from here.”
“Elliott,” Eric said, reaching for Elliott’s hand. “I just want to thank you for getting me out of that basement. I was sure they were going to kill me, and they would have if you hadn’t shown up. Did you get all three of them?”
“We did,” Elliott said. “The father’s dead and the mother and son were taken into custody. Man, what a messed-up family that was.”
Gloria stuck her head in the door and said, “Elliott, we can go see Dean now. You coming?”
Elliott turned back to Eric. “I’ll let you know how Dean’s doing after I see him and before I leave the hospital.”
“Thanks, Elliott,” Eric said, and then looked past him at Gloria. “Thank you, too, Gloria.”
Gloria smiled at Eric. “All part of our full service,” she said.
Gloria and Elliott walked into Dean’s room right behind Helen. Dean was lying flat on his back, an intravenous line running from a hanging bottle to a needle taped to the top of Dean’s left hand. His face was a bit pale but he looked to be in good spirits.
Helen stepped up to the other side of the bed and held Dean’s right hand. She bent over and kissed his lips. She was still crying. “Dean,” she said. “Are you all right?”
In a groggy voice, Dean said, “Takes more than this to keep me down.” He smiled up at his wife.
Helen sat in the chair next to the bed, but didn’t let go of Dean’s hand. Elliott stepped up next to Dean and looked down at him. “That was a close one,” he told Dean.
“You know,” Dean said. “That nut job might have finished me right there in the kitchen but you banged on his front door at just the right moment. He slipped and here I am. Thanks, Elliott.”
“I’m just glad you’re going to be all right,” Elliott said.
Gloria looked down at Dean and gave him a warm smile. She bent over and kissed his forehead and then looked back at Helen. “You don’t mind, do you?” she said.
Helen almost had to laugh at the situation. �
��Not at all,” she said. “Kiss him all you like.”
The door to Dean’s room opened and Clay poked his head in, saw it was the right room and then stepped inside. He looked at Elliott. “Gloria called me and I rushed right over. How’s my fishing buddy doing?”
Dean caught Clay’s eye and smiled. “I may be your fishing buddy sooner than you think,” Dean said and then looked at his wife.
“Helen,” Dean said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve changed my mind again. I’m retiring for good this time. The captain can let someone else take over. I’m done.”
Helen broke down and wept, burying her head into Dean’s pillow.
“I take it you approve,” Clay said, laying a hand on Helen’s head. He turned to Dean. “I know this spot where the bass are biting, but we’ll have to get there first thing tomorrow morning.”
Everyone in the room turned to stare at Clay.
Clay held up both hands. “Okay, so it can wait a week or so.”
Dean turned to Elliott. “Have you looked in on Sergeant Anderson yet?” he said.
“Just before we came in here,” Elliott said. “I told him I’d stop by one more time before I left to let him know how you’re doing.”
“Well,” Dean said. “You can tell him for me that if after all this he still wants the Lieutenant’s bars, he’ll get no argument from me.”
“I’ll tell him,” Elliott said, “But after what he’s been through I wouldn’t be surprised to find him fishing right alongside you and Dad.”
“He’s pretty tough,” Dean said. “This experience will just make him tougher, and a better cop.”
“It might at that,” Elliott said.
*****
The next day Sergeant Anderson was released but spent the next six days recovering at home. They released Dean a week later and told him to come back in two more weeks to have the stitches removed and for one final examination.
Upon his release from the hospital, Dean immediately went back to the twelfth precinct and stopped in to see Captain Blake. As promised, he turned in his resignation and also recommended Sergeant Anderson to fill his position. The captain accepted Dean’s resignation and told him he’d see what he could do about Anderson’s promotion but that he’d have to run it past the board first.
Elliott, Clay and Gloria closed their office early one Friday night and drove over to Dean’s house to look in on him. Helen greeted them at the door and invited them into the living room, where Dean sat with his feet up on a padded hassock watching television. He turned off the set when his guests walked in, all smiles.
“Something occurred to me the other day,” Clay said.
“What’s that?” Dean said.
“You really don’t have to return all those retirement party gifts now, do you?” Clay said. “You haven’t yet, have you?”
“I’ve been too busy,” Dean said. “I was going to get to it but just never got around to it. Why do you ask?”
“Because I was fishing last Friday and my waders sprung a leak,” Clay said. “I was just wondering if I could borrow yours.”
“Then what am I going to use?” Dean said. “I thought I was going to be your new fishing buddy?”
“I guess I can have mine patched and make them last another season,” Clay said. You going to be ready first thing tomorrow?”
Dean shook his head. “The doctor says I have to take it easy for another couple of weeks yet so I don’t strain my injury. Then we can hit the streams.”
Helen came into the room with a tray of drinks in her hands. “Lemonade anyone,” she said, setting the tray on the coffee table. Everyone took a glass and sipped from it. They all agreed it was good and held onto their glasses.
Elliott turned to Dean. “Did you ever get the full story on that whacked out family of killers?” he said.
“Yes,” Dean said. “Lieutenant Anderson stopped by here yesterday to thank me for recommending him for the lieutenant’s position and to fill me in on the case.”
Gloria leaned in closer. “What made them feel the need to kill so many people?” she said.
“Well,” Dean said. “From what they learned, apparently it wasn’t a recent thing. This family, at least the mother and father, had been killing people for years without detection. The kid found out about his parents’ murderous ways and thought it would be cool to try it himself. The nut apparently doesn’t fall far from the tree in this case.”
“Do you think Clyde’s parents dying in the same general area set him off in the first place?” Elliott said.
“Hard to tell,” Dean said. “Clyde’s not talking much these days from beyond the grave and his wife and kid have both clammed up. What they have is mostly speculation but they think it might have played a part in Clyde falling off the deep end. We may never know the whole story, but at least they won’t be killing any more innocent people. Sarah Archer was sent to prison and is not eligible for parole until she’s at least eighty-five and even then they don’t think she’ll make parole.”
“What about the kid?” Gloria said. “He was just seventeen when this all happened. Any chance he’ll ever walk free again?”
“They sent him to juvenile hall,” Dean said. “He’ll be there until he turns eighteen in a couple of months and then he’ll be transferred to San Quentin to serve out the rest of his sentence.”
Three months later Elliott had been reading the paper back in his office when he came across an interesting article on page three. He folded the paper in half and turned to Gloria. “Listen to this,” he said, turning back to the article. “Jacob Archer, eighteen, was found hanged in his cell in San Quentin prison. His bed sheet had been knotted around his neck. The other end had been tied to his upended cot frame. Archer and his parents Sarah, forty-eight and Clyde, forty-nine had all been involved in several murders in Los Angeles this year. Clyde Archer was shot dead by a police officer at the Archer home while Sarah Archer is still in prison for her part in the brutal slayings of at least nine people.”
Elliott put the paper down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. “I guess it’s true what they say,” he told Gloria.
“And what’s that?” Gloria said.
Elliott smirked and said, “The family that preys together slays together.”
“And pays together,” Gloria said.
Elliott straightened up in his chair and reached for his phone.
“Who are you calling?” Gloria said.
Elliott sighed. “I suddenly got this urge to talk to my dad,” he said, and dialed the number.
76 - Next
“I’ll bet you could fry an egg on this pavement,” Elliott said. “It must be ninety-eight in the shade. I told you we should have bought a soda before we got in line for this ride.”
Gloria shrugged. “The line didn’t look that long when we got in it,” she said. “But once you get past the barriers it’s too late to turn back. I didn’t know there were another five hundred people ahead of us.”
“These amusement parks are all the same,” Elliott said. “They herd you in like cattle and make you wind around a maze of chains and barriers. By the time you get to the ride, you forget which ride you were standing in line for.”
“Next,” the ride attendant barked, herding two dozen more riders toward the thrill of their life.
Elliott shifted his feet and leaned against the railing, looking up. There was a metal structure resembling a tower with six sets of seats, each holding four people, ascending two hundred feet straight up into the air. In a matter of seconds twenty-four people were looking down on him and Gloria from their lofty perch, their legs dangling beneath them. A few seconds later the latches securing the seats let loose and the screaming riders descended in a free fall. Fifty feet from the bottom, the brakes grabbed and the ride slowed down until the riders were back on the firm asphalt.
“Next,” The ride attendant said without enthusiasm or expression.
“Eighty-five seconds,” Elliott said, looking at hi
s watch.
Gloria gave him a curious look.
“Eighty-five seconds,” Elliott repeated. “It takes exactly eighty-five seconds from the time you sit down until you’re off the ride and the next bunch gets on. You spend twenty seconds getting pulled to the top, five seconds paused at the top, three seconds free falling and another twelve coming down that last fifty feet. Throw in another forty-five seconds herding out the riders and seating the next bunch and you got eighty-five seconds between bunches. Call it ninety seconds—a minute and a half.”
“Amazing,” Gloria said. “The sign out front said there was a ninety minute wait from that point. How many people would have to be in line to cause a ninety-minute delay?”
“Well, let’s see,” Elliott said. “Twenty-four riders per round times two rounds, that would make it forty-eight people every three minutes.”
Gloria jumped in, “Times thirty would give you the ninety minutes,” she said. “So what’s forty-eight times thirty?”
Elliott wrote on his invisible blackboard, running his fingers through the air and drawing a line under his imaginary figures. “That’s four, carry the two, times…” he said. His mental calculator kicked in. “Fourteen hundred and forty people.” He and Gloria whistled in unison.
Gloria and Elliott inched their way around the last turn in the maze. There were maybe sixty people between them and the head of the line. All heads tilted skyward again as the next twenty-four nervous riders rose into the sky.
“What’s this?” Gloria asked.
“It looks like a service entrance for the ride attendants,” Elliott said, looking at the gate to his left. Past the gate he could see a small gravel path leading to somewhere behind the adjacent attraction. It wound around to the right and disappeared behind a man-made boulder that sported a sign that said Mine Shaft. “Maybe we should have come this way and avoided the other six hundred people,” Elliott said, half joking.
“That would have saved us half an hour in line,” Gloria said.
The screams of the free falling riders echoed above them as something caught the corner of Elliott’s eye. Coming up the gravel service path he could see two men. They approached the gate, looking back and forth nervously as they got closer. One of them opened the gate and they both stepped into the line directly ahead of Gloria and Elliott. The bigger of the two closed the gate silently and stood there looking up at the next set of riders as if he’d been there all along.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 219