The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

by Bernico, Bill

  “Then just call me when you get in,” Joe said. “Wouldn’t want you to lose out on your beauty sleep. And from the looks of it, you could use all you can get.” He winked at Dad and punched him in the arm.

  “Seems like a nice guy,” I said to Dad on the way back to the office.

  “He really is,” Dad said. “Joe and I go back to high school. Believe it or not he was a year behind me and got to be kind of a pest, following me around like a little lost puppy.”

  “I know,” Elliott said. “A year seems like a lot of time when you’re a teenager. Not so much when you get to be your age.”

  “Watch it, kid,” Dad said. “You’ll get there one day yourself. One day you’ll just look in the mirror and suddenly realize you’re old. It creeps up on you.”

  We drove for a few blocks in silence before Dad said, “You really think your homing device will work?”

  “Unless the thieves take the generator outside the transmitter’s range,” I said. “But I have a feeling that whoever is taking this stuff is storing it someplace close and when they think they have enough to make a worthwhile trip, they’ll probably haul it all to Mexico and dump it.”

  “Well,” Dad said. “Let’s hope we can nab them before that happens. You do realize that Joe Finley could become a real ally of yours if you pull this off. He knows a lot of construction company owners and they all talk. You save Joe money and he tells his friends and before you know it, you have more work than you can handle. It’s a good thing I’m available.”

  “It did work out pretty well, didn’t it?” I said. “I mean with Gloria having the baby and you needing to step in for her. Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Have you been to the doctor lately for a checkup? I don’t want to push you into another heart attack. Two is your limit.”

  “He gave me a clean bill of health on my last visit,” Dad said. “Oh, I know enough not to stress myself out or work too hard these days, but under normal conditions, I could last another twenty-five years.”

  “Not doing this kind of work,” I said. “I don’t know any eighty-seven year-old private eyes, do you?”

  “Philip Marlowe is a hundred and six,” Dad said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He ageless. He’s also a fictional character. He’ll go on for another hundred years, but you, I’m not so sure about.”

  When we got back to the office, Gloria was sitting behind her desk, entering old case files into our database. I walked in with Dad close behind me. I held one hand up to Gloria. “No, don’t get up,” I said. “It’s just us.”

  Gloria rolled her eyes and finished the record she was working on before saving her work and shutting her computer off. “Are you both back for the day?” she said.

  I nodded. “Yup,” I said. “Dad and I can finish out the rest of the day if you want to go home.”

  “As the sure the two of you can handle the next forty-five minutes by yourself?” Gloria said, glancing at the wall clock above the door. She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned to me. “I’ll see you at home.” She left and the sounds of her footsteps faded down the hallway.

  “Boy the romance has gone out of that marriage, hasn’t it?” Dad said.

  “What do you mean?” I said. “We’re still passionate. Just because we don’t go overboard in public doesn’t mean the fire has gone out altogether.”

  “My mistake,” Dad said. “Can you handle things here by yourself?”

  “Why?” I said. “Is Wal-Mart having a sale on Geritol?”

  “Funny,” Dad said. “No, I just thought what a waste it would be for two of us to sit here staring at the walls when one of us could handle it just as easily.”

  “Go,” I said, waving one hand toward the door. “I can use some quiet time.”

  Dad didn’t argue. He let himself out and was gone before I could change my mind.

  Clay Cooper made it out to the parking lot before Gloria had had a chance to back out of her parking space. He held one hand up and she stopped, put the car in park and rolled down her window.

  “Did you forget something?” Gloria said.

  Clay shook his head. “No,” he said. “I just wanted to catch you before you went home.”

  “Is something wrong?” Gloria said.

  “No,” Clay assured her. “I just wanted to ask how things are going at home since you brought Matt home from the hospital. Do you and Elliott still get enough time for yourselves?”

  “What are you getting at, Clay,” Gloria said.

  “I was just thinking,” Clay said, “that after we finish this case we’re on now, that maybe you and Elliott could get away by yourselves for the weekend. Between Mrs. Chandler and me, we could take care of little Matt until you get back. It could be just what you need to charge your batteries, so to speak.”

  Gloria cocked her head to the side, thinking about Clay’s proposition. “You know,” she said, “that might be nice. Thank you, Clay. I’ll talk to Elliott about it when he gets home.”

  “Good night, Gloria,” Clay said, as she backed out of her space and headed home.

  Many a time Clay had wondered how things might have turned out if it had not been for his second heart attack. Before that time, he and Gloria had become an item, keeping their relationship a secret. Once he’d had the second heart attack and felt the effects that Gloria’s touch had on him, they both decided it would be best to end the relationship, if for no other reason than to keep Clay from experiencing a third, and possibly fatal heart attack. It was during his second recuperation period when Gloria came back to Cooper Investigations to help out that she and Elliott eventually found each other in ways that hadn’t occurred to them before. Neither Clay nor Gloria had ever let Elliott know about their past relationship.

  When I got home that night, the nanny, Mrs. Chandler, was just getting into a cab at the curb. I waved to her before going into the house. I found Gloria sitting in the rocking chair with Matt in her arms and a bottle sticking out of Matt’s little mouth. I stood next to them and smoothed Matt’s fine baby hair back on his head. It always made me smile.

  “So tell me about this case you and Dad went on today,” Gloria said.

  I told her about the homing device that I’d planted in the handle of the portable generator and how Dad and I planned to follow up on it in the morning.

  “Sounds like you’re getting your money’s worth out of all those electric gadgets,” Gloria said.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “It’s the wave of the future. I only wish I’d looked into years ago. This technology and the cases it will generate is going to put us into the next tax bracket, so you’d better get used to a better style of living, Mrs. Cooper.”

  “Now if it could only generate more free time for both of us,” Gloria said, “we’d be all set. I’d hate to think either of us or both of us will be too busy with the business to enjoy watching Matt grow up. There’s time you’ll never be able to get back again.”

  “And the funny thing about all this new technology,” I said, “is that by the time Matt joins me in the business, it’ll all be obsolete. By the time Matt takes over the company, that is if that’s what he wants to do with his life, they’ll probably have invisibility cloaks like the kind they used on those Harry Potter movies. Then tailing someone for a client will be a piece of cake, unless the person you’re tailing is also wearing one.”

  “You daydream too much, you know that, Elliott?” Gloria said. “Invisibility cloaks, come on, really.”

  “That’s probably similar to what they all told Chester Gould back in the thirties,” I said.

  “Okay,” Gloria said, “I’ll bite. Who is Chester Gould?”

  “He drew that Dick Tracy comic strip for more than forty years,” I explained. “People probably called him a daydreamer, too, when he included futuristic gadgets like the two-way wrist radio with a small TV screen on it. And now look at what they have today. Small cell phones with instant video capabilities so you can see who you’re talking t
o. Same thing, only not attached to your wrist.”

  “I see your point,” Gloria said. “I’m just saying that I don’t want either of us to regret years down the road that we missed Matt’s childhood because we were too busy working. There are more important things in life than money.”

  “I’ll try to make that a priority,” I said. “Find a way to work harder, smarter, shorter and for more money. I wonder why no one else has ever thought of that. Oh wait, they have—everybody has.”

  Gloria looked at me with the same look she used when she wanted to silence me without having to say so out loud. “All I’m saying,” Gloria said, “is that as long as you have access to all this technology, why not try to make it work for you in reaching that goal?”

  “That sounds good in theory,” I said, “but the problem with that is that we charge clients by the day, and if technology will help us get the job done sooner, that’s just that many days less we can charge the client. It’s kind of a Catch-22, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sure we’ll find a workable solution,” Gloria said.

  I was in the shower the next morning when my phone rang. Gloria answered it. It was Joe Finley, calling to let me know he was already in his contractor’s trailer. Gloria told him she’d relay the message when I got out of the shower. I dressed, had breakfast and was almost ready to leave when Dad came to the door.

  “You going to sleep the day away?” Dad said when he walked in.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. I’ve been ready to go for an hour already. I was just waiting for you.”

  Dad and Gloria exchanged glances before he looked at me again. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Let’s get moving. We may have some missing equipment to track down.”

  When Dad and I pulled into the construction lot parking area, Joe was just coming out of his trailer. He waved when he saw us walking toward him. He made a half turn and gestured toward the portable compressor.

  “Mr. Cooper, can you believe this?” he said. “When you don’t want anyone on the property they come in and steal you blind. You leave out fresh bait like this that a kid could walk off with and it’s still here this morning. Go figure.”

  “Well,” I said. “Just leave it out again tonight and we’ll try again tomorrow morning. That’s all you can do.”

  “Too bad we didn’t put those transmitter things in some of the equipment on my other sites,” Joe said. “Over at the Silver Lake site, some bastard walked off with a whole five-foot toolbox full of tools.”

  “Did you want Dad and me to stop at your Silver Lake site and have a look around?” I said. “Maybe we can plant similar bus in equipment on your other sites.”

  “I’m going to wait and see if this gets results before I proceed any further,” Joe said.

  “Okay with me,” I said. “Can you just call tomorrow if you find out the compressor is missing? That could save me a trip here otherwise.”

  “I’ll do that, Elliott,” Joe said. “Thanks for coming by this morning. You, too, Clay,” he said, waving at Dad.

  “I guess we can still put in a full day at the office,” Dad said. “Don’t we have any small jobs we can fit in today while we’re waiting for results with the homing device?”

  “I’ll have to check,” I said, heading for my van.

  Before we got to the van, a man stopped us at the curb. “Excuse me,” the man said. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Did I understand that you are a private investigator?”

  “Where did you get an idea like that?” Dad said, stepping in.

  The man pointed toward Joe and said to Dad, “I heard that man call you Mr. Cooper and he called this guy Elliott. There’s only one Elliott Cooper in the book, listed under private investigators. Am I right?”

  “Yes you are,” Dad said. “I’m Clay Cooper and this is my son, Elliott. Was there something we could help you with today? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Brower,” the man said. “Mike Brower. I could probably use the services of a good private eye if the price isn’t too high. What do you charge?”

  “To do what?” I said.

  Brower looked around and then said, “Is there someplace private we can talk?”

  I gestured toward my van. “In here,” I said, opening the side door and letting Brower step up into the van. I closed the door behind him and got into the front passenger seat. Dad got behind the wheel. We both turned around to face Brower. “So, what is it that you need a P.I. for?” I said.

  “Mr. Cooper,” Brower said hesitantly, “I find myself in a bit of a jam. This woman is taking me to court for fraud and I can’t afford a conviction. This time I’ll go to prison.”

  “And just what did you expect us to do for you, Mr. Brower?” I said.

  In a softer tone, Brower said, “I just need you to find a witness who would lie under oath and help me get out from under this charge. I’d pay the witness well, and of course, there’d be a bonus in it for you, as well.”

  “We don’t…” I started to say before Dad laid a palm across my chest.

  “What Elliott’s trying to say, Mr. Brower, is that we don’t generally conduct business on the street like this.” Dad took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Brower. “Here’s my card. It has my phone number and email address on it. What you need to do is email me and lay it all out what you want us to do for you. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a binding contract. You understand, I’m sure. If we just tell you here on the street that we’ll do something on your behalf, it just wouldn’t be legal. Why don’t you go on home or to some Internet café and email me with the details. I should be able to get back to you the same day with a quote for our services and I’ll be able to tell you when we could start. Okay?”

  Brower looked down at the card. “So I just have to email you with my request? That’s all I have to do?”

  “That’s it,” Dad said, “so you’d better get moving. The quicker I get the email, the sooner things will start happening for you.” Dad pointed to the double van doors. “You can just let yourself out, Mr. Brower. Good day, sir.”

  Brower opened the doors and stepped out to the curb, closing the double doors behind him. I looked out the passenger side window and saw Brower walking down the street, looking at Dad’s business card.

  “What the hell was that all about?” I said, giving Dad my disapproving look. “Are you out of your mind? We can’t do what he wants us to do.”

  “Of course we can’t,” Dad said. “And if I hadn’t told him to do what I asked and just turned him down flat, he’d have found someone who would have.”

  “And?” I said.

  “And this way,” Dad said, “Once we have the email printed out, we can turn it over to Lieutenant Anderson down at the twelfth precinct. Like I promised Mr. Brower, once he emailed us, he’d get results. Maybe not the results he had hoped for, but they will be immediate results, another scumbag like Brower will be taken off the streets, and Lieutenant Anderson will owe us one.”

  My face must have softened, because Dad smiled and said, “And that, my boy, is what comes with experience.” He turned to face forward, started the van and drove back to the office. I had to admit, even if only to myself, that I was impressed.

  Once back in the office, we got caught up on our foot dangling, staring out the window and newspaper reading. I guess being a private eye is a lot like being a car rental manager. You can’t do anything until the customer comes to you. That was just the nature of our business. Sometimes we’d be so busy with clients and cases that we couldn’t think straight. Right after that we’d be inactive for days at a stretch. We’d learned to live with it.

  Another day came and went and the following morning as I was enjoying breakfast with Gloria and Matt, my phone rang. It was Joe Finley.

  “They took the bait,” Joe said. “The portable compressor is gone.”

  “I’ll pick up Dad and see you in twenty minutes,” I told Joe. “Are you coming with us?”

 
“Well,” Joe said, “not exactly with you. I’ll follow you in my car. I have a few other places to go after we finish. Meet me here at the jobsite. I’ll be ready to roll.”

  I told Gloria that Dad and I would be for most of the day and asked if she could mind the office for a while. She told me that she was expecting Mrs. Chandler within the next few minutes and that the nanny could watch Matt while she stayed at the office. I called Dad and picked him up in front of his house.

  Joe Finley was standing out at the curb when Dad and I pulled up. I told him just to follow us and that if we got separated in traffic, to call my cell number and we’d wait for him someplace up ahead. I turned left on Highland Avenue and took it south to Olympic Boulevard. The circle of red LEDs indicated a westerly direction. We drove as far as LaCienega until the direction finder told us to head south again. We stayed on LaCienega until we got to Rodeo Road when the red LEDs switched direction again and directed in a westerly direction again.

  “What’s that you’re humming, Dad?” I said.

  “Huh?” Dad replied.

  “You’re humming something,” I said. “What is it? It sounds familiar.”

  “Sorry,” Dad said. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it. It’s Free As A Bird by The Beatles.”

  “Whatever made you think of that song at a time like this?” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Dad said. “I was just watching that homing device with all the blinking red lights in a circle and a line from that song came to me. That’s all.”

  “Which line?” I said.

  “Like a homing bird I’ll fly,” Dad sang in a voice that was meant to be heard only in the shower.

  “Now I’m sorry I asked,” I said. “Don’t give up your day job.”

  When we passed Jefferson Boulevard, and drove over Ballona Creek, Rodeo Road turned into Higuera Street and I noticed a change in Dad. One block straight ahead was a street called Hayden Place. The red LEDs told us to turn left and Dad began to sit up even straighter, staring out his window with an inner fascination that even he couldn’t explain..

  “What is it, Dad?” I said. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”