The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

by Bernico, Bill

  “July 5, 1950,” Clay said.

  Henry continued with his questions regarding dates and the three of us filled in the missing information for him. Henry turned to me this time and said, “So what happened with your case this morning? Is that something that could make for good reading in the book?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “The client pretty much solved it on his own and paid us for the little time we’d spent on it. Case closed, nothing exciting, nothing to report. Sorry.”

  “That’s too bad, Henry said. “Suppose we go back and touch on some of your older cases? Would any of you like to jump in and get the ball rolling? And please, if any of you has something to add, just feel free to jump in and add what you remember. Clay, would you care to talk a little about your mother and that whole thing surrounding her death?”

  “I don’t suppose it would hurt to air that part of my life again after all these years,” Clay said. “Hell, it was thirty-eight years ago. I was fifteen when it happened. Mom and Dad were walking home from the movies that night. They cut through the park and three guys jumped them. They left Dad for dead and killed Mom right there in the park. By the time Dad was well enough to leave the hospital, Mom had already been buried. That always bothered Dad that he wasn’t there for the funeral.”

  “Not to be insensitive,” Henry said, “but that’s the kind of thing that sells movie tickets.”

  “I think Dad would be proud to know that his legacy would live on in a film like this,” Clay said.

  “So,” Henry said, “who has something interesting to add to the book?” He turned to Gloria. “I told you I’d get back to your part of this saga when all three of you were present. Now’s your chance to add to the book and movie.”

  “Can I tell you a little about my father?” Gloria said.

  Henry paused a moment and then said, “This project was supposed to follow the Cooper family tree, but go ahead. Let’s hear how it sounds. There may still be a place for your story if it’s relevant.”

  “It’s relevant, all right,” Gloria said. “Especially the part of my father’s death. If he had not died, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you about it. I wouldn’t be part of Cooper Investigations and I wouldn’t be Elliott Cooper’s wife and the mother to the fourth generation Cooper to become a private eye.”

  “That’s if he wants to follow in my footsteps,” I said.

  “Right,” Gloria said. “Excuse me, Henry, I didn’t mean to sound so excitable or annoyed or however it was I sounded.”

  “That’s perfectly all right, Gloria,” Henry said. “Please, go on with your story about your father.”

  Gloria shifted in her seat on the sofa and then said, “Well, as you know, my father also had a private investigator business. And now that I think about it, if Matt does decide to get into the business when he’s old enough, that would mean that he has that kind of lineage from both parents, not just the Cooper side. Tell me that doesn’t spell audience appeal.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Henry said. “Please, tell me more.”

  “Well,” Gloria said, “this was about three years ago. Dad and I had an office here in Hollywood and we’d had some modest success in the business. We were on a strange case, trying to find a stolen 1959 Gibson ES-335 guitar.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that you and Elliott were on a case like that?” Henry said.

  “Yes,” Gloria said. “It was the same case. If you remember, I had told you that Dad and I never got to finish that case and when Elliott hired me, I brought him the case and we took care of it. It was our first case together.”

  Henry flipped though his pages and found Gloria’s initial reference to this case. “I do remember you telling me about that. Don’t know what I’d do without my notes and the digital recorder.”

  “Anyway,” Gloria said, “Dad was shot and killed while we were on that case. Dad’s killer has never been found. You think something like that doesn’t eat away at me every day? It does, let me tell you.”

  Henry snapped his fingers and pointed at Gloria. “A thought just occurred to me,” he said. “What if the three of you took up the search for Gloria’s father’s killer?”

  “That would be a police matter,” Clay said. “Typically private investigators wouldn’t be involved in tracking down killers, unless…”

  “Unless the police had given up,” I said. I turned to Gloria. “Do the police keep you updated on any progress they might make?”

  “They called a few times,” Gloria said, “and some detective stopped by those first two months just to let me know they were still looking into it. But I haven’t heard a word now in almost three years. It crosses my mind every now and then, but I’ve been so busy with work and family that I just never pursued it.”

  “Now keep in mind,” Henry said, “that I’m not necessarily talking about the three of you actually getting out there and finding this elusive killer. No, what I had in mind was talking a little artistic liberties and including such a story in the book and movie. That’s one more thing that the book-buying and movie-going public loves—happy endings. Would you mind if I had one of our ghost writers work up some sort of outline for a story like that which we could include in the Cooper story?”

  “Can I get back to you on that?” Gloria said. “I’d like to think about it some more before I give you my answer.”

  “Take a few days if you need it,” Henry said. “When we’re finished here today the ghost writer and the editor will probably be working off my notes and recordings for a month or more. Could you let me know by the end of the week?”

  “I’ll have an answer for you one way or the other by Friday,” Gloria said.

  “That’ll be great,” Henry said.

  The three of us sat there for another ninety minutes answering questions, relaying stories and anecdotes about the investigation business. He provided Henry with all the dates and facts that he had asked for. It was coming up on five-thirty before we finally wrapped it up and thanked Henry for his time. He assured us that he’d be in touch if he needed any further clarification on any of the interviews. And he told Gloria that he’d check back with her by Friday for her answer.

  Dad and Gloria and I left the hotel and all crawled into Dad’s sedan. He sat there for a moment, not starting the engine or saying anything to either of us. Then he turned to Gloria in the front seat next to him and said, “So what do you think?”

  A frown played on Gloria’s face. “About what?” she said.

  “About the three of us getting out there and looking for your father’s killer,” Clay said.

  Gloria shot me a look and then stared at Dad. “Are you serious?” she said. “The police have given up. What do you think we’ll be able to do that they can’t?”

  “All that aside,” Dad said, “what do you think about the idea itself? I mean, if there’s even the slightest chance that we can do it, would you be willing to give it a try and drag up some old feelings that you might not like?”

  Gloria took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She slowly nodded her head. “Oh, if only we could find that son-of-a-bitch,” she said. “I owe Dad that much.”

  Dad turned in his seat and looked back at me. “What about you, Elliott? Are you game? Wouldn’t you like to find Ross Campbell’s killer and be able to put the real story into the book and movie?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind when Henry talked about fabricating that part,” I said. “And we just did get that nice little windfall from George Willoughby to carry us through while we look for him. Count me in.”

  “It’s settled then,” Dad said. “First thing tomorrow we start digging into the Campbell case. And one more thing just occurred to me.”

  “What’s that, Dad,” I said.

  “Dean Hollister would have still been the lieutenant when that case came across his desk,” Dad said. “I’ll just bet that didn’t sit well with him at all to have to retire and leave that case unsolved. I’
ll bet he’d jump at the chance to join us in our search.”

  “Give him a call,” Gloria said. “Ask if we can all stop by and see him.”

  Dad fished his cell phone out of his coat and flipped it open. He found Dean’s home phone number in his address book and selected it. The phone rang twice before Dad heard the familiar voice he’d known most of his life.

  “Hollister,” Dean said.

  “Dean,” Dad said, “am I interrupting anything? Dinner? Your favorite TV show? Sex?”

  “No, no and don’t I wish,” Dean said, laughing. “What’s new with you?”

  “Are you decent right now?” Dad said. “I have a couple of people with me who’d like to see you, if you’re free.”

  “Well,” Dean said, “I’m not free, but I am affordable. What did you have in mind?”

  “I’m sitting here with Elliott and Gloria,” Dad said. “We were wondering if we could stop by and see you for a few minutes, if you’re not too busy.”

  “I just have to slip into some pants and a shirt,” Dean said. “Sure, come on over. You do remember where I live, don’t you?”

  “Has it been that long?” Dad said. “I didn’t mean to neglect you, buddy. We can be there in fifteen minutes. Go get those pants on.”

  “See you then,” Dean said and hung up.

  Dad folded his phone shut and turned to Gloria. “Let’s go see Dean,” he said, starting his car and pulling out into the traffic. We made it to Dean’s house in less than ten minutes. Dad hadn’t even had a chance to knock on Dean’s door when it swung open and Dean stared back at us, a wide smile playing on his face.

  “You’re all a sight for sore eyes,” Dean said. “Come in, come in.”

  Gloria wrapped her arms around Dean and gave him an extended hug. “You’re looking good these days, Dean,” she said.

  Dad shook Dean’s hand. “Retirement certainly agrees with you,” Dad said. “Look at you. You never looked this good.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Dean said. He turned to me. “Elliott, how’s your boy? How’s little Matt?”

  “Getting bigger every day,” I said. “One of these days I’ll have to take him in and get him fitted for a shoulder holster.” Gloria gave me a stern look. “Maybe that can wait a while yet,” I said.

  Footsteps sounded from the kitchen and soon Dean’s wife Helen appeared in the living room. We all greeted her and exchanged pleasantries before she asked us if we’d like anything to drink. We all waved her off, saying that we’d all just finished a soda back at the hotel. Helen returned to the kitchen.

  Dean invited us to sit. “So tell me,” he said. “What’s on your minds today?”

  Dad leaned in toward Dean and said in a low voice, “How does Helen feel about your retirement?”

  “What do you mean?” Dean said.

  “I mean, is she okay with it?” Dad said, “Or is she after you do get out of the house and do something every now and then?”

  “You know Helen,” Dean said. “Sometimes she just likes having the house to herself and I have to get lost and pretend to be doing something. Why?”

  “How would she feel about you joining the three of us on a case?” Dad said.

  Dean paused and thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said. “She was awfully glad when I retired from the department. She said that now she could stop worrying about me all the time.”

  “Well,” Dad said, “we wouldn’t put you in any danger. But we could use your expertise and experience on a potential case we were thinking about taking on. Your replacement, Eric Anderson, is a fine cop, but let’s face it; he’s bogged down with so many other cases. How much attention could he give this one case?”

  “And which case are we talking about here?” Dean said.

  Gloria leaned in now and said, “My father’s murder. The three of us were thinking about following up on it and we need your help. You were in charge when Dad was killed. I vaguely remember talking to someone at the department about it. Could have been you, I don’t remember. Anyway, does the name Ross Campbell ring any bells with you, Dean?”

  Dean sighed. “Does it?” he said. “That’s one case that’s kept me up on more than one occasion, let me tell you. It bothered me that I had to retire without marking that file closed. I always wished there was something more I could have done.”

  “Well, now there is,” I said, getting into the conversation. “Between the four of us, we should be able to help you tie up a few loose ends. And you’d be helping Gloria get the closure she needs as well. What do you say? Would you like in on this one?”

  “Would I?” Dean said. “Just let me run this by Helen and see what she thinks.”

  “Helen,” Dean called to the kitchen. “Would you come in here for a minute, please?” Helen returned to the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “Yes, dear,” she said, “what is it?”

  “How’d you like me to spend a little more time out of the house?” Dean said.

  Helen’s face lit up. “Really?” she said. “You mean I can have the house to myself for a while?”

  Dean nodded and smiled. “These three need my help for a while and I could really use something to do. It could take a few days.”

  “Go ahead, dear,” Helen said. “Knock yourself out. As long as you’re not chasing after anyone with a gun.”

  We all looked at Dean. “Nothing like that,” he said, lying through his teeth. “Just some routine stuff that could use an extra body. Shouldn’t take us long to wrap it up.”

  “Sure,” Helen said. “Go ahead.” She turned and walked back into the kitchen.

  Dean extended his hand and Dad shook it. “Thank you,” he mouthed without actually saying it. “When did you want to start?”

  “Are you used to sleeping in?” Dad said. “Or can you be at our office by nine tomorrow morning?”

  “If I had a key,” Dean said, “I’d be there by eight and have the coffee ready when you got there. Of course I can be there by nine.”

  “Great,” Dad said. “We’ll all see you then.”

  The three of us stood and headed for the front door. Before we left Dean laid his hand on Dad’s shoulder and said, “Thanks, Clay. I needed this.”

  “And we needed you,” Dad said, stepping down off the porch and walking back to his car. Gloria and I followed close behind.

  A few minutes before nine o’clock the next morning, Gloria and I stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to our office. The outer office door was unlocked and we could hear voices in the inner office. We found Dad and Dean sitting on the leather sofa in the corner of the office drinking coffee. They seemed to be reminiscing about the old days. They both raised their cups to us as we entered.

  “Good morning, kids,” Dad said and then sipped from his cup.

  “I might have figured you’d both be here already,” I said. “Not too eager to get started, are you?”

  “Must be that older generation work ethic,” Dean said.

  Gloria poured herself a cup of coffee and took it back to her desk. Personally, I could never understand what people saw in coffee. In all my life I’d only tasted one sip and I’d even spit that much out. To me it was a bitter, unpleasant taste and I’d decided long ago to stick with something more palatable—chocolate milk.

  We had a small, two-foot-square refrigerator on a low table that stood next to the coffee maker. I made sure I kept it stocked with half-pint containers of chocolate milk. I took one out of the refrigerator and carried it back to my desk and set it down while I stepped over to the file cabinet and withdrew one of the older files. I sat at my desk and started flipping through the pages. I stopped when I found the one I was looking for. I read the part that I’d been thinking about last night and turned to Gloria.

  “Something’s been bothering me since we agreed to take this case, and I think we should talk about it,” I said to Gloria.

  “What is it, Elliott?” Gloria said.

  By now Dad a
nd Dean had gotten up off the sofa and had wandered over to my desk.

  I held up the page from the file folder and turned to Gloria. “Something didn’t track right,” I said, “but I couldn’t put my finger on it. You originally told me that your father was in a bar one night when a man came in and tried to hold the place up, right?”

  Gloria nodded. “Yeah,” she said.

  “And according to what you told me when you started here and I took on your case,” I said, “you told me that your father pulled his .38 and told the guy to drop his gun. You said that the guy just fired anyway and hit your father in the chest.”

  “That right,” Gloria said. “Where are you going with this, Elliott?”

  I read further down from the sheet. “According to you, the guy got away with thirteen dollars and half a bottle of beer that was sitting on the bar. You said that your father got off one shot and hit the robber in the thigh.”

  “So what is it that’s troubling you, Elliott?” Dean said.

  I turned to Gloria. And the last thing you told me was that the cops caught up with the guy an hour later and that he went down shooting.”

  Gloria looked somewhat embarrassed.

  Dean turned to Gloria. “Is that what you told Elliott?” he said. He turned to me. “We never found the guy. He just vanished without a trace.”

  I turned to Gloria, who had hung her head and couldn’t look at me. “We’ve never had any secrets before, Gloria,” I said.

  “Haven’t we?” she said with a bit of an edge to her voice.

  No, we haven’t,” I said. “Why did you start out with a lie?”

  Gloria took a deep breath and let it out. She looked up at me. “I didn’t want anyone trying to talk me out of it,” she said.

  “Out of what?” I said.

  “I told you that the police had ended it so that you wouldn’t try to do anything about it,” Gloria said. “I wanted to find the guy myself and make him pay for what he did to Dad. I swear if I could have found him, I’d have shot him down like a mad dog in the street.”

  “Well why didn’t you ever tell me afterwards?” I said.

  Gloria paused and then said, “By then it was too late. I almost started believing the lie myself. Maybe I wanted to believe it so I could move on. Maybe I didn’t want it to get in the way of the life we’d made for ourselves. I don’t know. Does it matter?”