“Have you seen this man in here recently?” Clay said. “If he stopped here at all, it would have been around nine or nine-thirty last night.”
The clerk, a girl no older than eighteen, wore a name tag identifying her as Stacey. She didn’t even look at the photo. “I wasn’t working last night,” Stacey explained. “That would have been the night crew, and most people don’t even bother coming inside. They can swipe their card at the pump, fill up and be gone without ever seeing any of us.”
Clay pulled out his I.D. and badge and held it up in a casual manner, just long enough for the girl to catch the glint of the badge but not long enough to see that it was just a private investigator’s license. He flipped it closed again and looked the girl in the eye.
“Where are your surveillance tapes from last night?” Clay said. “I need to see them.”
“I don’t know if…” Stacey started to say.
“Now,” Clay demanded, “before we have to close this station as a crime scene. You wouldn’t want that, I’m sure. You’ll lose an awful lot of revenue in those twenty-four hours. However, if I can just have a look at last night’s surveillance tapes I can be on my way in no time at all and you can stay open. Now where are they?”
Stacey motioned to another clerk, who came over to where I stood. “Show this officer to the tape room in the back,” she said. “Find the tape from last night between eight and ten and let him see it.”
The other clerk, a kid no older than Stacey, led Clay to a back room and showed him the four screens that were displaying live images of the gas pumps. He pulled the topmost tape off the shelf, popped the current tape out of the recorder and inserted the tape from the shelf.
“We can get twelve hours on a tape,” he explained. “But at that speed, the picture quality is not very clear.” He pressed the play button and the date and time appeared in the upper right hand corner of the screen.
“Can you fast forward to just before nine o’clock last night?” Clay said.
Without answering, the kid pressed the FF button and the tape sped up, showing ten minutes elapsing in ten seconds. When the time got to eight-fifty, he slowed the tape down and I watched as cars pulled into and away from the pumps in a steady stream.
“Can you run it at double speed?” Clay said.
The kid must have been a mute, because he didn’t answer this time, either. He just hit another button and stood back while I watched. I knew Elliott’s car and license plate number and watched for a white Toyota Corolla sedan. Several minutes passed before the white Toyota pulled up to the pumps.
“Stop it right there,” I said. “Now just let it run at regular speed.”
The kid did as he was told and I watched as the car door opened and I saw Elliott step out and swipe his card in the slot on the gas pump. He grabbed the nozzle and filled his car, which only took a minute or less. I watched as he returned the nozzle to the pump, screwed on the gas cap and closed the little flap that covered it. That’s when I saw the two men approach him. One of the men stuck something in Elliott’s back while the other one went over to the passenger side of the car. A few seconds later, Elliott got behind the wheel and opened his passenger door. The second man slid in while the first man took his place in the back seat, directly behind Elliott. The car pulled away from the pump and out of camera range.
I reached over and hit the Stop button on the recorder. I hit the Eject button and the tape popped out. I grabbed it and turned to the kid. “We’re going to need this as evidence,” Clay told the kid. “You’ll get this back after the case is finished. Thanks for your help.”
Clay exited the small room and hurried out to his car. Once inside he dialed Lieutenant Anderson’s number. “Eric,” Clay said. “It’s Clay Cooper. I’m here in Barstow at the filling station.”
“Clay,” Eric said. “What are you doing? This is a police matter.”
“Save your breath, Eric,” Clay said. “This is my son we’re talking about here and I intend to find him, so don’t talk for a minute. Just listen.” Clay told him about what he’d found on the gas station surveillance tape. “I don’t know which direction they went after they left the filling station. I’m just going to have to take a chance and head north on Interstate Fifteen. Would you contact the Nevada State Police and tell them what I’ve discovered. We need them to start from Las Vegas and work their way toward me. The California State Police can start at Barstow and cover the route back into Los Angeles.”
“Clay,” Eric said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to…”
Clay hung up and drove out of the filling station lot. He caught Interstate Fifteen again and headed north towards Las Vegas. The road was a boring ribbon of cars going both ways and the scenery was almost non-existent, save for the occasional tumbleweed and jackrabbit. Clay drove on, more aware of his surrounding now than ever before.
Lieutenant Eric Anderson called the Nevada State Police again, gave them a description of Elliott’s car and his license number and informed them that there may be three occupants in the Toyota. When he hung up the phone, he dialed the office of Cooper Investigations and got a busy signal. He tried several more time and finally reached Gloria.
“Gloria,” Eric said. “I just got a call from Clay.”
“So did I,” Gloria said. “I just got off the phone with him. He told me about Elliott’s car on the filling station surveillance tape. I’m scared, Eric. I know Elliott can handle himself one on one, but there were two of them and that’s a big empty area out there.”
“I talked to the State Police from both California and Nevada,” Eric said. “Everyone’s out looking for him right now. Don’t you worry, we’ll find him.”
*****
It was creeping up on seven-thirty when Jane cleared the table of the supper dishes and I slid my chair back and loosened my belt. “I have to tell you,” I said. “You are a very good cook. And a great host as well. You know I probably owe my life to you, don’t you?”
“No charge,” Jane said. “It’s all part of the full service.”
I got up from the table and stepped up behind Jane, wrapping my arms around her waist. I nuzzled her neck and nibbled her ear. She purred like a contented kitten and turned around to face me.
“Well, Mr. X,” she said. “We still have another twelve hours to kill before I can use the car again. Any ideas?”
“Nothing as clever as the one you came up with earlier,” I said, and kissed her. “What about a second helping of dessert?” This time I pulled her back into the bedroom and pushed her down on the bed. A few moments later our bodies were locked in embrace. Jane kissed me and I let her.
Suddenly something inside me felt strange. I pulled away and looked at Jane, my brows furrowing.
“What is it, Eddie?” Jane said.
“That’s just it,” I said. “I know my name’s not Eddie. I’m not sure what it is, but I am sure that I have a wife somewhere.”
“What?” Jane said. “Did something trigger your memory?”
I licked my lips. “Just now,” I said, “when you were kissing me. It was so familiar and then lunch came back to me and I could vividly see that soup can sitting on the stove.”
“The soup can?” Jane said. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“The brand name,” I explained. “It was Campbell’s and it didn’t register at the time, but I think my wife’s name was Campbell before she married me. Something Campbell. I can’t remember the first name, but the Campbell part comes out stronger than any feeling I’ve had today. That has to be it.”
Suddenly we both became self conscious about our nudity and Jane pulled the blanket over herself. I turned away from her, suddenly embarrassed by the realization of what we’d done. I quickly got dressed and left the room. A few minutes later Jane emerged, fully clothed again. I had trouble looking her in the face.
Jane came over to where I stood and put her hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to feel bad,” she said. “
What we had was a beautiful thing but it doesn’t have to wrack you with guilt. Who knows? Once you get your memory back you may remember someone named Campbell and it may not even turn out to be your wife at all.”
“This is all so confusing,” I said. “Please, until I find out for sure who I am and what my background is, please let’s just keep this thing plutonic. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jane said.
*****
Officer Kyle Foster of the Nevada State Police set out on Interstate Fifteen from Las Vegas and headed southwest as far as the state line, where he turned around and retraced his route back into the city. The Las Vegas Police had also been alerted to be on the lookout for the white Toyota sedan and to approach with caution if they encountered it.
California State Patrolman Hal Bishop continued southwest on Interstate Fifteen toward Los Angeles. He exited onto Two-Ten and continued west, watching for Elliott’s white Corolla. He was having no luck, either.
Clay had driven almost all the way to the Nevada State Line, always looking out both sides of the car for any trace of his son. He still found nothing he could use. He called Gloria and told her that he was still searching and not to give up hope. They didn’t talk for long. Gloria wanted to keep the phone lines open in case Eric or the State Police tried to call her.
On one of the side streets in downtown Las Vegas a meter maid was making the round in her white Cushman scooter. As she rounded the corner, she spotted a white Toyota Corolla illegally parked in front of a fire hydrant. She pulled up directly behind the car and got out of her scooter. She pulled out her ticket book and began writing out a ticket. When she got halfway finished with the ticket, two men emerged from one of the casinos and approached the car.
“We’re leaving,” one of the men told the meter maid. “You can stop writing now.”
“I’m issuing you a citation for illegally parking in front of that fire hydrant,” she said, and kept writing.
One of the men opened the car door with the key while the other man snuck up behind the meter maid and slugged her on the head with the handgun he’d been carrying. The meter maid fell over onto the sidewalk and the two men hopped into the Corolla and sped away. A couple coming out of that same casino spotted the meter maid on the ground and rushed to her side. She couldn’t have been hit nearly as hard as the Corolla’s original owner had been because she never lost consciousness. The couple helped her sit up and she grabbed the microphone on her lapel and called into the station house downtown.
“Dispatch,” she said. “This is officer Treadwell on Fremont Street. I need backup immediately. Officer down. Two men left the scene in a white Toyota Corolla sedan.” She gave dispatch the license number.
“Stay where you are, Officer Treadwell,” dispatch said. “We have backup and an ambulance on the way.”
Twelve blocks away the white Toyota ran a red light. A motorcycle cop fell in behind them, his red light and siren wailing. The Toyota wasn’t pulling over. The cop grabbed his mic.
“This is Officer Gilmore in pursuit of a white Toyota sedan, requesting assistance.” He gave the license number and his location.
In less than a minute two additional patrol cars joined in the chase. Together they managed to chase the car onto a dead end street. The two men emerged from the car and started shooting at the officers. All five policemen returned fire, killing one of the men instantly. The other assailant refused to give up and kept firing on the police. A barrage of bullets riddled the car as well as the assailant. One of the bullets hit the gas tank and the Corolla was engulfed in a ball of flames in a matter of seconds. The cops couldn’t get near the vehicle and the wounded gunman died in the flames. All things considered, his partner was the lucky one. He didn’t have to roast alive.
The fire department arrived several minutes later and extinguished the blaze. Police surrounded the Toyota and looked down at the two gunmen’s charred bodies. Motorcycle officer Gilmore holstered his .38 and let out a deep breath. “What a waste,” he said.
“Waste?” one of the other cops said. “They had it coming, both of them.
“Not them,” Gilmore said, “the car.” He leaned in to look at the dashboard of the Toyota. “What a waste. It’s this year’s model and it only has four hundred miles on the clock.”
The patrol car officers had to agree. Within two hours, the entire scene had been cleaned up and the only indication that anything had happened there at all was a dark burn spot on the pavement.
Dispatch checked the license number against their hot sheet and found that this was the Toyota that the State Police were looking for. The Las Vegas Police called Lieutenant Anderson in Los Angeles to let him know that they had the white Toyota that the L.A.P.D. had been looking for. They gave Eric the details of the night’s events, including the death of the two gunmen.
“Any trace of the car’s owner?” Eric said. “We’re still looking for Elliott Cooper.”
“Nope,” the Nevada State Trooper replied. “Just the two who apparently stole the car in the first place. We’re still trying to locate Mr. Cooper.”
“Thank you very much,” Anderson said. “We appreciate your efforts and please let us know if you find Mr. Cooper.”
Eric hung up the phone and dialed Gloria. She answered before the first ring had had time to finish ringing.
“Hello,” she said, her voice a bit frazzled.
“Gloria, it’s Lieutenant Anderson again,” Eric said. “Las Vegas police have found Elliott’s car in the city.” He explained the circumstances surrounding the events of the past two hours. “Elliott wasn’t in the car and it’s just as well, in this case. Everyone’s still looking for him so don’t give up hope.”
“Thank you so much, Eric, for keeping me in the loop,” Gloria said. “I just wish this whole thing was over and Elliott was back home, safe again.”
*****
I spent the night on the couch, wracking my brain for more clues to my real identity. Frustration was driving me mad and I had to try to find out who I was and where I belonged. I ran scenarios though my mind until I finally drifted off. I woke Wednesday morning to the sounds of bacon frying in the kitchen. I threw the blanket off me and stood up, my bare feet cold again. Jane was standing at the stove, frying the bacon in one pan and four eggs in the other. She smiled as I approached.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked, scooping up the eggs and depositing them on two plates. She patted the bacon between sheets of paper towels and added them to the plates.
“As well as can be expected,” I said. “I’m feeling much better than I did this time yesterday, thanks to you.”
“And have you remembered anything more, Eddie?” Jane said.
“That’s just it,” I said. “When I woke up this morning, it was like someone threw a switch in my head. Like I told you yesterday, I knew my name wasn’t Eddie, but I still didn’t know what it really was.”
“And do you this morning?” Jane said.
“Remember yesterday when you went over that list of names that started with E on your computer?” I said.
“Yes,” Jane replied.
“And when I heard you say Elliott,” I said, “I thought it was familiar because of those audio tapes I listened to in the car. You know, the ones narrated by Elliott Gould.”
“What about it?” Jane said.
“It was familiar for two reasons,” I said. “The audio book narrator and me. My name is Elliott, I’m sure of it.”
“What about your last name?” Jane said. “Any clues there?”
“Well,” I said, “Remember that war movie we watched yesterday? I asked you who the star was and you said Gary Cooper.”
“I remember,” Jane said. “You thought for a minute there that your first name might be Gary.”
“I know,” I said. “The the real familiar part of that was the last name. My last name is Cooper. It came to me the minute I woke up on that couch. I’m Elliott Cooper and my wife’s name was indeed Campbell. Her name is
Gloria and we’re going to have a baby in the next month. We live in Hollywood and we’re both private investigators. Oh, I feel so relieved that I remember everything again. I can go home now and get on with my life.”
Jane’s face dropped a bit. “I know,” she said. “I knew sooner or later you’d remember and you’d be on your way again. Almost reminds me of a dog I had when I was a kid.”
“I remind you of a dog?” I said. “That’s flattering.”
“It’s not so much you, as the situation,” Jane explained. “This stray dog followed me home after school and my mom said I could keep it. That was one fine dog, let me tell you. Anyway, two weeks later the real owner showed up and I had to give up my best friend, Steve.”
I laughed. “You have a thing for dogs named Steve, don’t you?” I said. I’m sorry, but you know I can’t really stay, don’t you? My owner is looking for me, too, and she’s probably out of her mind by now. Could you take me back after we finish breakfast? I know it’s a pretty long distance, but I’ll be glad to pay you for your gas and your time.”
“Don’t be silly,” Jane said. “I’ll be glad to drive you home. I have never been to Hollywood. I’ve always wanted to see it, I just never got around to it. I don’t know why.”
“Well, tonight you’ll be our guest for dinner anyplace you want,” I said. “I can even give you the fifty cent tour of the town. Please let us do this for you.”
Jane smiled. “All right,” she said. “Do you think we could eat at The Brown Derby? I’ve always heard that movie stars hang out there.”
“Jane,” I said. “I hate to be the one to rain on your parade, but The Brown Derby was torn down years ago and replaced with some other building. Sorry. Anyplace else you’d like to eat?”
“I’ll just leave it up to you,” Jane said. “It’s your town, after all.” She pulled a six-pack of soda from the refrigerator and set it in a small cooler, pouring ice cubes over it. “This ought to get us to Hollywood,” she said.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 226