“All right,” I said. “Let’s try a run-through Harry. Start right where you are and run to the telephone pole like someone is chasing you. You realize you’ve been cut off by a second person ahead of you. You stop in your tracks, throw your palms up in surrender, shake your head and beg for your life. Got it?”
Harry ran through the alley convincingly enough that I thought we could video the next take. “Ready Harry?” I said.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Harry said.
“Ready Gloria,” I said.
“Let’s do it,” Gloria said, her hands on the switches of the squib detonators.
I patted Harry on the shoulder. “Action.”
Harry ran perfectly to his markers, stopped, looked surprised and terrified, held his palms up and began trying to bargain with someone unseen out of camera range. I tapped Gloria on the shoulder and one by one, with only a fraction of a second between switches, flipped three switches that detonated three squibs under Harry’s shirt. The effect was perfect and Harry fell onto his back in the dark alley.
This is where I made my acting debut. In a dark coat with the collar turned up, a slouch hat on my head and black gloves, I walked into camera range and stood over Harry. I leveled my gun at Harry’s head and pulled the trigger at the exact same time that Gloria flipped the switch that detonated the squib under Harry’s wig. The effect was so life-like that I almost convinced myself that I’d actually shot him.
I hurried out of the shot and over to my van. I opened the door and looked at Dad. “How did it look from here?” I said.
“For a minute there I thought I was seeing an actual murder,” Dad said. “Well done, son.”
Gloria hurried over to where Harry lay and tapped him with her foot. “We’re all done, Harry,” she said. “You can get up now.”
Harry rolled to his side and onto his hands and knees. He pulled the bloody wig off his head and stood there holding it. It dripped down onto the surface of the alley. Gloria walked with him back over to the back door of our building. She handed Harry a towel and he wiped his face and hands and then wrapped the bloody wig in it. Dad and I joined them and we all rode the elevator back to the third floor. We locked the office door again and we all sat down.
“I think we pulled it off,” I said. “I just need to do a little editing with the video files to make it look like one continuous sequence and we can get it to Eric and he’ll make sure the TV station gets it on the air.”
“I sure hope this work,” Harry said.
“Have you given any thought as to where you’re going to go when this is all over?” Gloria said.
Harry slipped out of the bloody shirt and tee shirt and wrapped them up in the towel along with the wig. Gloria handed him the shirt she’d brought along and Harry slipped into it, buttoning it up and tucking it into his pants. “I thought I might like to live in Denver,” he said. “I’ve never been to Colorado. I’ve visited every state that surrounds it, but managed to miss Colorado itself. Denver’s big enough to get lost in. I can always find some kind of job there, I guess.”
Dad opened my desk drawer and pulled out the envelope John Smith had given us in the park. Dad withdrew five thousand dollars and put the rest back in the drawer. He handed the stack of bills to Harry. “That should get you started until you can get on your feet,” Dad said.
Harry stared at the stack of bills, his mouth hanging open. He looked back up at me. “Holy crap,” he said. “That’s awfully generous of you, Mr. Cooper.”
“It’s the least we can do for you, Harry,” Dad said. “I mean, after all, we yanked you off your job, disrupted your life and now you have to leave everything behind and start over. Besides, Smith paid us way more than our usual rate for this job. We’re still doing all right by him. I’m just glad we could help you out as well.”
Harry looked to me and I nodded as well. “Go ahead, Harry, take it,” I said, and returned to editing the video from the mini cameras.
It was nearly nine o’clock when I was satisfied with my editing job. I transferred the final version to a single USB jump drive and closed my laptop. I held the jump drive up and said, “We’ve got to get this to Eric right away.”
Dad held his hand out. “I’ll take it to him right now. Let me give him a call first.”
When Dad got off the phone he turned to me. “Eric’s at home now,” Dad said. “I’ll drop off the video there on my way home. Just watch for it on the news at eleven.”
Dad left the office and I turned to Harry. “You’ll come home with Gloria and me for tonight,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the airport or bus terminal, whichever you prefer.”
“Do you think you’ll try to find a job driving a bus in Denver?” Gloria said.
“Oh, hell no,” Harry said. “There’s one part of all this that I won’t miss one little bit. No more complaining people, crying babies, loud teenagers, pokey old people who take forever to get on and off the bus. Nope, I’m not going to miss that part at all. You know, I heard a saying about death and I wish I could remember where I heard it. It says something about death being the next great adventure. We’ll I’m going to experience my next great adventure without having to die first.”
“Let’s go home,” Gloria said.
When we got home, Gloria thanked Mrs. Chandler, sent her home and then made up the couch for Harry to sleep on. Dad called shortly after ten o’clock.
“Elliott,” Dad said. “I gave Eric the jump drive and he took it to KTLA and made sure someone there took the time to watch it. It should be on the news tonight at eleven. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I talked to Harry on the way home and he thinks he’d prefer to take the bus to Denver. How’d you like to ride with us to the bus terminal?”
“Great,” Dad said. “I’ll buy us breakfast on the way. How about if I swing by and pick you both up? I can’t imaging riding all the way to the terminal in the back of your van. I’ll be there at eight.”
“We’ll be ready,” I said and hung up.
Gloria and I sat around in the living room talking with Harry and waiting for the eleven o’clock news to come on. The anchor man came on the screen exactly at eleven and said, ‘In tonight’s headlines, local bus driver is killed, longshoremen go on strike and The Lakers win last night’s game’. The screen cleared and was filled with the image of Harry running through the alley and then being shot three times. Before the final shot to the head, the image blurred and the voiceover warned the viewing audience that the scene was too graphic for television, but went on to tell of how Harry Fleming, a local bus driver had been fatally shot earlier tonight and that police were busy following leads as to the killer’s whereabouts. The screen switched to a shot of the Long Beach docks and a reported stood with his microphone, telling the viewers about the proposed strike. I switched off the set.
“Looks like we pulled it off,” I told Harry. “You should be able to sleep like a baby tonight.”
Harry sighed with relief. “Thank you again, Mr. Cooper, Mrs. Cooper. I can’t wait to get out of this town and away from all this madness.”
“Your certainly welcome, Harry,” I said and then yawned. I excused myself and said goodnight. Gloria did the same and followed me into the bedroom. Harry kicked off his shoes and peeled off my shirt and stretched out on the sofa, pulling the covers over him.
The next morning when I got up Harry was already up and dressed and had made a pot of coffee. He was sitting at the kitchen table sipping from his cup when I walked in. It was just seven-thirty and Gloria was still asleep.
Dad showed up right on time and had a cup of coffee before the three of us headed out the door to Dad’s car. I sat up front with Dad and Harry slid into the back seat. I turned to Dad. “You know, if anyone at all suspects anything about that video last night, they may be watching the airports and bus terminals,” I said. “I think we should take Harry to a bus terminal out of town, say maybe Pasadena or Arcadia.”
<
br /> “Let’s make it Arcadia just to be safe,” Dad said.
We made it in thirty-five minutes and parked in the bus terminal parking lot. Dad and I walked into the terminal with Harry and waited for him on one of the benches while he bought his ticket. Harry joined us on the bench a few minutes later. He held out the ticket and said, “Next bus leaves in fifteen minutes. Thanks again, guys for everything.”
I started to say something to Harry when I looked up at one of the three televisions that were playing overhead. I elbowed Dad and gestured at the TV with my chin. “Recognize anyone, Dad?” I said.
Dad looked up at the screen. It was our mysterious John Smith from the park. His mug shot appeared on the screen in both front view and side view and had several numbers displayed directly below him. The announcer went on to say that reputed underworld hit man, Reuben Cahill had been found dead in his hotel room early this morning. The report went on to say that the cause of death had not yet been determined, but that the body had shown no outward signs of trauma.
“I guess he wasn’t kidding,” I said. “He was a little off, though, with the time. I guess the poison worked a little faster than he thought.”
“Too bad,” Dad said. “He was a good tipper, though.”
“Who are you guys talking about?” Harry said, looking up at the screen.
I gestured at the screen with my chin. “That was the guy who hired us to find you and NOT kill you,” I said. “He’s the guy we met in the park yesterday. You can thank him for the five grand in your pocket.”
“Well,” Harry said, “at least that’s one more guy who won’t be looking for me. And if the guys who hired him believe last night’s newscast, they won’t be looking for me, either.”
The voice came over the intercom, “Passengers now boarding for Flagstaff, Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Denver.”
“That’s it,” Harry said. “Gotta run. I’d like to say I’ll keep in touch, but we both know that’s not going to happen.”
“Do you have a new name picked out for yourself?” Dad said.
Harry thought for a moment and then grinned. “As much as I’d like to,” he said, “I’m afraid it would draw too much attention to me.”
“What’s that?” I said.
“The name I’d like to use,” Harry said. “It’s an old Irish name—Upton O’Good.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and then smiled. “But I won’t. I haven’t thought of a new name yet, but you can bet it will be one that a thousand other guys have as well. I just want to fade into the multitudes and live out the rest of my life in peace.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I said. “Just don’t pick John Smith.”
“You don’t have to worry about that one,” Harry said, and stepped up onto the bus. He waved from his window seat and a minute later the bus pulled away and headed off down the road.
I looked at Dad. “What would you call yourself if you had to start over in another city?” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Dad said. “I have to admit I’d be tempted, like Harry, to be creative. Maybe I’d become Al Batross, or maybe Art C. Kraftsi.” Dad laughed at his own jokes. “What about you, Elliott? What name would you pick for yourself?”
I thought about it for a moment and then a smile crept onto my face. I’ve got two perfect names. First choice would be Bob N. Frapples.”
“Huh?” Dad said. “I don’t get it.”
“Say it faster,” I said.
I could see Dad’s lips moving as he said it faster to himself and then laughed out loud. “Good one, Elliott,” he said. “What was the other one?”
“Fred Nethel,” I said and waited for Dad to decipher the meaning of that one.
Dad shook his head. “Help me out here?” he said.
I smiled and started to walk back to Dad’s car. Over my shoulder I said, “Who were Ricky and Lucy’s neighbors?”
All the way home Dad and I tried to outdo each other with comical names. It was one of the most enjoyable trips with my dad that I can remember.
88 - The Friendly Skies
“Remember that guy I took off the bus at gunpoint a couple months ago?” Dad said.
“How could I forget?” I said. “It wasn’t just some guy, it was the driver. Harry something-or-other, wasn’t it?”
“Fleming,” Dad said. “Harry Fleming.”
“What about him?” I said.
“I got a call from him right before you got back from lunch,” Dad said. “He invited me up to Denver to visit him for a week. Apparently he landed himself a great job for big bucks and he wants to show his appreciation for getting him out of that bus driving job, and for saving his life. He even paid for the round-trip ticket.” Dad pulled an airline ticket from his pocket and held it up. “Fred sent this. It came in the mail this morning.”
“Fred?” I said. “Who the hell is Fred?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Dad said. “I forgot to tell you. Harry Fleming had to change his name when he left Los Angeles and started over. His new name is Fred Wilson. I’ll have to get used to calling him that so I don’t tip his hand in Denver.”
“And just when does he expect you to fly there?” I said.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Elliott,” Dad said. “Can you take a look at your calendar and see if there’s a slow week coming up where you could spare me? I’d really like to go. I’ve never been to Denver, or anyplace else in Colorado, as far as that goes.”
I flipped through my desktop calendar and noticed that we were clear for six days starting tomorrow. I looked up at Dad. “Tomorrow works for me. I’ve got nothing going on for a week, unless we get a walk-in or a call, but I’m sure I can handle those until you get back.”
“Gloria could come in if you get busy,” Dad said. “I’ll even bring you back something from Denver.”
“As long as it’s not an omelet,” I said.
“Huh?” Dad said, giving me a strange look. Then he got it. “Oh, yeah, very funny. No, it’ll be something cool, you’ll see.”
“What time does your flight leave?” I said, writing this down on my desktop calendar.
Dad studied the ticket in his hand and said, “It leaves LAX at eight-fifteen tomorrow morning and they like to have people show up at least an hour ahead of time. Christ, I’ll have to get up at five a.m.”
“Tell you what, Dad,” I said. “I’ll swing by for you and drive you to the airport. That way you won’t have to leave your car there for a week. A free airline ticket won’t seem so free if you have to pay for a week’s worth of parking in that lot.”
“Thank you, Elliott,” Dad said. “Is it any wonder you’re my favorite son?”
“That’s not too tall an order to fill,” I said, “seeing as how I’m your only son. Are you packed already, or can we get some actual work done here today?”
“It shouldn’t take me that long to pack,” Dad said. “I suppose I can squeak it in sometime after work and before I have to go to bed at eight-thirty.” Dad gave me a look out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll manage somehow.”
I rolled my eyes. “Go on, you big baby,” I said. “Go home and pack. I’ll see you at six-thirty sharp. And don’t dawdle. You’re a terrible dawdler. Just make sure you’re ready when I get there. I hate waiting around for you.”
Dad smiled a broad smile and hurried for the door. “Thanks, Elliott,” he said. “See you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”
I called home and got Gloria right away.
“Hello,” she said, almost in a whisper.”
“Oops,” I said. “Is Matt sleeping?” Matt was our one-year-old son and heir apparent to the Cooper Investigations dynasty started by his great-grandfather and namesake, Matt Cooper, back in 1946.
“I just got him to sleep, Elliott,” Gloria said. “Is there something wrong?”
“Does there have to be something wrong for me to call my lovely wife?” I said.
“When do you need me in?” Gloria said. She’d b
ecome accustomed to helping out in the office when I needed her to fill in. She had been my full-time partner when we first met several years ago. Back then Dad was recuperating from his first heart attack and I had hired Gloria to fill in. She was the perfect candidate, having worked in her father’s investigations business before joining me.
“Dad’s flying to Denver tomorrow morning,” I said. “He’ll be gone a week. Can you get Mrs. Chandler to come in and stay with Matt?”
“I’ll call her,” Gloria said, “but I don’t see a problem. It’ll be good to get out of the house for a change.”
“What if Mrs. Chandler’s not available?” I said.
“I could always bring Matt to the office with me,” Gloria said. “I’d just be covering the phones anyway, wouldn’t I?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “We could get a call for a two-man job.”
“Well,” Gloria said, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not a man.”
“Oh, I noticed, all right, little goil,” I said in my lecherous voice.
“Is that all you ever think about?” Gloria said.
“What else is there to think about?” I said. “Those parts are all right there in the right places for a reason, aren’t they?” In the background I could hear Matt crying.
“There,” Gloria said. “Now he’s awake again. Anything else on your one-track mind, or can I go attend to our son?”
“I love you, too,” I said. “See you tonight.”
I got through the rest of the day without speaking to another person. I hoped this wasn’t a sign of things to come. Lately business had been so slow that Gloria had been able to spend ninety percent of her time at home with Matt. Dad and I had been able to manage what little business we’d had these days. I closed up the office at six o’clock and drove home, thinking about how early five-thirty would be coming around the next morning. I had to open my mouth and volunteer to drive Dad to the airport.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 250