“And you say that was Saturday?” I said. “What time was that?”
“Oh, right around four, four-thirty, in there somewhere,” Allen said. “Hey, if I thought there was anything going on, I would have called you or the police. I had no idea.”
I turned to Gloria. “We’d better get back upstairs,” I said. “Eric will be here soon.” I turned to Allen and said, “The police may want to talk to you when they finish upstairs. Are you going to be around?”
“Sure,” Eric said. “Glad to help out if I can. Send ‘em down.”
“Thanks, Allen,” I said, and turned and left Allen’s office.
As we passed Mary again, she said, “So where’s your new office going to be?”
Gloria opened her mouth to explain and then just sighed. “I’ll explain it all later, Mary.”
We returned to the empty office and waited for Lieutenant Anderson and his lab man to show up. There wasn’t even any place to sit while we waited, so Gloria and I rested our butts on the window sill.
“What are we supposed to do about all our records?” I said. “Come tax time we’re going to be sucking seeds if we have to produce any records.”
“That’s the least of our problems,” Gloria said. “I have a backup of everything that was on our laptops. Our big problem now is that someone has and can see all of our past records. None of our previous clients has any confidentiality any more. The question now is, can any of that information be used against us or our clients?”
“Well,” I said, “like you said, you have the backups. We can always buy two new laptops and reproduce what we had.”
“That reminds me,” Gloria said. “You’d better call our insurance man right now and let him know what’s going on. If we’re going to be back in business, we’re going to need to replace everything they took today yet.”
“I’m on it,” I said, flipping my phone open and calling Ned Sweeny. While I was on the phone with Ned, Lieutenant Anderson and his lab man came in.
Anderson looked around for a second and then turned to Gloria. “Gees,” he said, “you weren’t kidding. They took everything, didn’t they?”
“Even the toilet paper,” Gloria said, referring to a wisecrack Eric had made to Elliott on the phone.
Eric turned to the man he’d brought with him and said, “Tom Sullivan, this is Gloria Cooper.” Eric gestured toward Gloria and then turned to where I was standing with my cell phone to my ear. “And that’s Elliott Cooper.”
I acknowledged Eric’s introduction with a polite wave.
“I know Elliott,” Tom said. “We met a couple of months back on that case with that family of killers near Burbank.”
Eric nodded to Tom, who opened his black bag and began dusting for finger prints on the door frames and window sills. After eight or nine minutes Tom turned to Eric and said, “Lots of prints, but it’s a good bet they all belong to Elliott and Gloria.”
“And possibly Clay,” Gloria added. “He works here occasionally. He’s just not in today.”
“That makes sense,” Gloria said. “We just came from Allen Jeffries’ office on the second floor. He said he saw a couple of moving men here late Saturday and said they were wearing gloves. Chances are they didn’t leave any prints.”
“I should probably go down and talk to this Jeffries,” Eric said. “When Elliott’s done with that phone call, tell him to meet us down there, will you, Gloria?”
“All right, Eric,” Gloria said. “Thanks anyway.”
Eric and Tom left the office and got in the elevator. Eric got off at two but told Tom he could return to the precinct and thanked him for his time. Eric found Allen Jeffries’ real estate office on the second floor.
Elliott finished his call to his insurance man and closed the phone. “I just have to give him a copy of the police report,” Elliott told Gloria, “along with a list of everything that was taken and he’ll cut us a check this afternoon. Looks like we may be spending the rest of today replacing what we lost.”
“And what happens if and when we catch up with these lowlife thieves and find all our original equipment?” Gloria said. “Are we stuck with two of everything?”
“I guess we work that out with Ned,” Elliott said. “Meanwhile, why don’t you give some thought to what you want in here?”
“I think the first thing we’d better do is go out and find another phone system and answering machine,” Gloria said. “We’re probably losing business as it is. Let’s not lose anymore by not being reachable to potential clients.”
“How about if we split up?” I said. “I’m going downstairs to join Eric in Allen’s office. How about you finding us the phone equipment we need?”
“I’m on it,” Gloria said and hurried out of the office.
I left the office myself and didn’t even bother locking the door. I found Eric on the second floor, coming out of Allen’s office. “Anything?” I said.
“Nothing more than he apparently told you already,” Eric said. “He couldn’t see any company name on the side of the moving truck and it hadn’t occurred to him to get the license plate number. At the time he had no idea that anything was wrong.”
“What about descriptions of the moving men themselves?” I said.
“Generic at best,” Eric said. “Identical coveralls and hats. Nothing memorable about either of their faces. He did get a look at one of the name patches on the coveralls, though. One of the guys had a patch that said, ‘Stoney’. He didn’t see the second man’s patch.
“Stoney,” I said. “Not a name you hear every day. That could narrow it down a bit.”
“We’re on it,” Eric said. “But I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you to let us handle it.” When Eric got a look at my face, he added, “I didn’t think so. Look, I’ve got to get back and start the ball rolling on this investigation. I’ll let you know if anything breaks loose.”
“Thanks, Eric,” I said, and continued down to the parking lot and to my van. I drove to the local van line company to have a talk with the owner. He was in his office when I entered the building. There was no receptionist to screen me, so I let myself in and knocked on the door marked, ‘manager’ and waited. A deep voice from behind the door invited me in.
“Are you the owner?” I said, poking my head into the office.
“Owner’s in Chicago,” the man behind the desk said. “I’m the manager. Blake is my name, Arthur Blake. Is there something I can help you with?”
I stepped all the way into the room, found a spare chair and situated it across the desk from Blake. Before I sat myself down, I fished my wallet out of my coat and flipped it open to my P.I. license and shield, showing it to Blake. “My name is Elliott Cooper,” I said. “I have an office on Hollywood Boulevard near Cahuenga.”
“I can’t imagine needing a private eye, Mr. Cooper,” Blake said.
“Uh, no,” I said. “I’m not here trying to drum up business. Like I said, I have an office and when I went to that office this morning, I found that it had been cleaned out right down to the toilet paper on the roll and the calendar on the wall. There’s nothing left—absolutely nothing.”
“And I can assume that’s not something you planned,” Blake said.
I shook my head. “Not at all,” I said. “Another tenant in my building told me that he saw two moving men there late Saturday moving all of my stuff out to a truck in the parking lot. He didn’t see any company name on the truck, but he did notice a name patch on the coveralls of one of the men. It said, ‘Stoney’. Does that name ring any bells with you, Mr. Blake?”
Blake gave me a strange look, trying to decide if this was some sort of a joke. “Did Sammy send you here?” he said. “That Sammy’s a pretty good practical joker, but he’ll have to do a lot better than this to get me.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“You had me going,” Blake said, “until you threw the Stoney name into the mix. Good one. Yo
u go back and tell Sammy it didn’t work.”
I shrugged. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Blake,” I said.
Blake pulled a pair of coveralls off a coat tree and held them up facing toward me. The name patch said, ‘Stoney’. “Stoney,” Blake said. “That’s me, or at least that’s my nickname.” Suddenly hit him that I wasn’t joking around with him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said.
“I’m afraid so,” I said. “Do you know of anyone else in this business with that name?”
Blake shook his head. “I’ve been in this business for more than thirty years,” he said, “and I know most of the other players and their staff. No other Stoneys that I know of.”
I pointed to the coveralls. “Is that your only pair?” I said.
Blake hung them back on the hook and shook his head. “No,” he said, “I have another pair that I use when these are in the wash.”
“Do you think I could see them, Mr. Blake?” I said.
Blake spread his hands. “Sure,” he said. “I keep them in the closet right over here.” He led me to a door on the other side of his office and pulled it open, reaching for the hook. The surprised look on his face was genuine when he saw the bare hook. “They were hanging right here,” he said.
“Does anyone else have access to your office and closet?” I said. “Could anyone else have taken them without your knowledge?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Blake said. “I haven’t needed the second pair for a couple of weeks, so I’d have no reason to check to see if they were still hanging there. I guess someone could have borrowed them without me knowing about it.”
“Let me ask you, Mr. Blake,” I said. “How many men does this company employ? And I’m just talking about this local branch.”
“Oh, I’d say at any given time that we have between thirty-five and forty men on staff,” Blake explained. “You think one of them took my coveralls?”
“Makes sense,” I said. “Who else would know they were there?”
Blake nodded with the realization. “No one,” he said. “So what happens now, Mr. Cooper?”
“At least I may have narrowed the suspect list down to thirty-five or forty,” I said. “Now I talk to all of these men.”
Blake gave me a look that I couldn’t interpret.
“It’s either me, with my subtle ways,” I said, “or the police, with their not-so-subtle ways. Which would you prefer, Mr. Blake.”
“I see your point, Mr. Cooper,” Blake said. “But I think I can save you a little wear and tear on your shoe leather. Not all forty of these men would have even been in town on Saturday. Several crews were delivering households across the state and quite a few more aren’t movers. They’re mechanics and warehousemen.”
“What about your trucks?” I said. “Do they all have to be signed in and out and is the mileage recorded when that happens?”
“I thought you said your witness didn’t see any company name on the truck,” Blake reminded me.
“Just because he didn’t notice a name,” I said, “doesn’t mean there wasn’t one on the truck. Can I get a look at your trucking log?”
Blake reluctantly led me to the garage area and into a small office on the side. He pulled a log book off the shelf above the desk and opened it to the last page, stepping away to let me have a look. “As you can see, Mr. Cooper, all trucks were accounted for on Saturday and there are no mileage discrepancies.”
“I guess it’s possible that the two men used a truck from somewhere else,” I said. “Could I talk to anyone on your staff who doesn’t have a verified alibi for Saturday?”
“Well,” Blake said, “not all of them. Some are out on jobs at the moment but there are still a few here in the lunchroom. Knock yourself out.” He pointed to the door marked ‘Staff Only’ and then led me into the room. Four heads turned toward us as we entered. “This is Mr. Cooper,” Blake told the four men. “He’d just like to ask you all a few questions. I expect all of you to cooperate with him.” With that, he turned and left the room.
I spent twenty minutes with the men and by the time I left them, I was convinced that none of them knew anything about what had happened in my office last Saturday. Hell, I could be chasing a wild goose for all I knew. I thanked them all for their time and decided to say goodbye to Arthur Blake before I left. I opened his office door, leaned in and said, “Just wanted to thank you for your time and say goodbye, Mr. Blake. And then another thought occurred to me. Has anyone left your employ recently for any reason? I mean did you fire anyone or did anyone quit?”
Blake didn’t have to think too hard about this question. “Just one,” he said. “Les Bennett.”
“Where could I find Mr. Bennett?” I said.
“In the cemetery,” Blake said. “He died five or six weeks ago.”
“Well,” I said. “It was just a thought. Thanks again.” I left Blake’s office and returned to my van. It looked like I’d hit a dead end with the moving and storage company. I decided to try some of the truck rental agencies in town.
I talked to managers and clerks at four different truck rental places in Hollywood and came up empty. At the fifth place over on Sepulveda the clerk remembered renting a twenty-two foot truck to two men last Friday just before closing.
“They had it back here, parked on the lot when I came in on Monday,” the clerk said. “Funny thing, though. They paid cash up front plus a hundred dollar deposit, you know, in case they bring it back without a full tank of gas.”
“What’s funny about that?” I said.
“They never came back for the deposit,” the clerk said. “Not that they would have gotten the whole hundred back anyway. The truck took six gallons of gas and they put on an extra forty-eight miles, so they’d have gotten back only thirty dollars or so after expenses.”
I held up my I.D. and shield. “I’d like to see that rental agreement,” I said, trying to use my official sounding voice.
“Right away,” the clerk said, scrambling toward the office. He showed me the rental agreement and I made a note of the name it was made out to—Douglas Avery.
I jotted down the address on Barton Avenue along with the phone number and handed it back to the clerk. “Did you get a look at this Avery’s license?” I said.
The clerk nodded. “Yes,” he said. “The guy showed me his driver’s license and I wrote the number down on the slip. See? Right there.”
I noted the license number on my slip and thanked the clerk. I climbed back into my van and drove to the twelfth precinct to share this information with Lieutenant Anderson. Eric wasn’t back yet so I asked the desk sergeant if I could talk with Eric’s secretary, a woman named Cynthia Brennan.
Cynthia was sitting behind her desk when I approached. “Hey, Elliott,” she said when she saw me coming. “If you’re looking for Lieutenant Anderson he’s not back yet.”
“I know,” I said. “I was hoping maybe you could help me with something.”
“Try me,” she said and then smiled wryly.
“Is that a come on?” I said.
“Elliott,” Cynthia said. “You know me better than that.”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “So, is that a no? Are you coming on to me?”
Cynthia playfully slapped my arm. “You bring out the flirt in me, you know that, Elliott? Now, what was that you were asking?”
“Could you plug a driver’s license number into the computer for me and see what comes up?” I said.
“Child’s play,” Cynthia said. “Give me the number.”
I read the number to her and she typed it into her computer and waited. Something came up on her screen and she looked up at me. “Read me that number again, Elliott,” she said.
I slowly read the number to her as she check it with the number she’d typed into the computer. “Nope,” she said. “No match.”
“No match?” I said. “How’s that possible? I copied the number off a truck rental agreement. Okay, try this in t
he search. Try Avery, Douglas.”
Cynthia typed the name in and hit Return. She got several hits for Douglas Avery and asked if I had an address to go with the name. I gave her the address but it didn’t match any of the four Averys on the screen.
“Try just the address,” I said.
Again Cynthia cleared the screen, typed in just the address and hit Return. She looked at me again. “No such address,” she said. The numbers on Barton Avenue don’t go that high. Looks like someone made up a fake license in order to rent that truck. Sorry, Elliott.”
“Well,” I said, pinching her cheek, “thanks for trying anyway. Would you tell the lieutenant when he returns that I stopped in and ask him to call my cell number, if you would?”
Cynthia smiled and ran her hand over her cheek. “I will,” she said.
This was getting stranger by the minute, I thought. Someone obviously went through a lot of trouble to cover their tracks with the truck rental. I was stumped as to where to look next when my cell phone rang. It was Gloria.
“Did you find anything, Elliott?” she said.
“Just a lot of dead ends,” I said. “How are you doing with the phones?”
“I’m in the office,” Gloria explained. “I’m calling you from our new office phone. Same number as before, naturally, and I already have the answering machine hooked up and ready to take messages, if we get any.”
“Remind me to put you in for a raise,” I said. “You’re turning out to be my most valuable employee.”
“And?” Gloria said.
“And I’ve decided to let you sleep your way to the top,” I said, laughing at my own joke.
“I don’t think my husband would approve,” Gloria said.
“Screw him,” I said.
“I was planning to,” Gloria said, “but I think I’ll go with the first offer. How long do you think it would take me to screw my way into the president’s chair?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “That would depend on how good you are.”
“At my job?” Gloria said.
“That, too,” I said. “I’m just a few blocks from the office. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I flipped my phone shut and turned up Cahuenga and around the back of my building. When I walked into the office, Gloria was sitting behind a small table that was barely large enough to accommodate her laptop and the phone.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 238