“So you drove him to the hospital?” Dean said.
Simmons shook his head. “Didn’t have to,” he said.
“Why not?” Gloria said.
“Because after just a few blocks, Joey slumped over in the front seat and died,” Simmons said. “There was a lot of blood on the floor and the seat. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do.”
“So what did you do?” Dean said. “Where’s Joey now?”
Simmons looked at all four of us, one at a time. He turned to Dean and said, “I buried him in the woods in Griffith Park. It was really dark that night. I didn’t want anyone to see me.”
“And if you’re telling the truth,” Dean said, “his body should still be there, right?”
“It’s there, all right,” Simmons said. “I can take you right to it, but you gotta believe me, I didn’t have anything to do with that holdup or with Joey’s death. That’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?”
Dean laid a hand on Simmons’ shoulder. “If everything checks out the way you say, I’ll put in a word for you with the captain. So, you wanna take us to Joey?”
Simmons nodded and wiped the tears from his face and got up from the chair. We walked him to the front door and out to the car. The back seat was a bit crowded with three of us back there, so we drove back to the coffee shop for the other car. Gloria and I returned to our car while Dad switched to the back seat to sit with Simmons, while Dean drove. We all headed east on the boulevard and turned north on Western Avenue, which turns into Los Feliz and winds past the park.
Dean turned into the drive that Simmons said looked familiar to him. We continued through the park and eventually ended up on a desolate section, away from the picnickers and sight seers. Dean pulled onto a small wayside and got out of the car. Dad and Simmons followed. Gloria and I pulled up behind them and joined the group in front of Dean’s car.
“All right,” Dean said to Simmons, “show me.”
Simmons looked around, trying to get his bearings. He walked toward a stand of pine trees to the north and checked his surroundings for familiar markers. After a few minutes he pointed to a large tree at the side of one of the paths that snaked through the park. “There,” Simmons said, pointing to a clump of thick bushes near the large tree. “That’s the place, just to the right of that last bush.”
“Now, you’re certain?” Dean said. “This better not be some wild goose chase.”
“It isn’t,” Simmons said. “He’s there all right.”
“How deep?” Dean said.
“Couple of feet,” Simmons said. “I didn’t wanna hang around here too long, so I didn’t go that deep.”
“Watch him,” I told Dad. “I’ll start scraping away at that spot, just enough to verify his story. Then we can call in the experts.” Dad agreed and I found a dead branch with enough girth to serve as a digging tool. I began scraping at the exact spot Simmons had pointed to and within ten minutes of clearing away dirt, I hit something solid. I dropped the stick and fell to my knees, pulling dirt away from hole more carefully now. I brushed away enough dirt to convince me that Simmons was telling the truth.
I looked up at Dean. “Got him,” I said, exposing an ear. I stood up and backed away from the site.
Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed his former office. Eric Anderson answered.
“Lieutenant Anderson,” the familiar voice said.
“Eric,” Dean said, “it’s Dean Hollister. Are you in the middle of anything?”
“Dean,” Eric said enthusiastically, “how are you? I haven’t seen you around here in quite a while. You must be finding plenty to keep you busy in your retirement. How’s Helen?”
“Listen, Eric,” Dean said. “We’ll have to save the chit-chat for some other time. I have something for you. Can you get a crime scene crew and the coroner out to Griffith Park right away?”
“What have you got, Dean?” Eric said.
“I’m not sure,” Dean said, “but it could be the answer to the unsolved murder case that’s been hanging over my head for way too long now.”
“Leave your phone on and don’t hang up,” Eric said. “I’ll find you by the GPS coordinates in your phone. We should be there shortly.”
Dean left the phone unfolded and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “They’re on their way,” he told the rest of us.
“What about me?” Simmons said. “You said you’d put in a word for me with the captain.”
“And I will,” Dean said. “Just be patient.” Dean turned to me and said, “Keep an eye on him for a minute, will you, Elliott?”
Dean motioned Dad over to where they could get away from the rest of us. “I’ll put in a word with the captain, all right,” Dean told Dad. “I didn’t say what kind of word that would be, now did I?”
Dad chuckled to himself. “That’s exactly the way I’d have played it,” he said to Dean.
Dean and Dad returned to where we stood watching Simmons. I stepped away, pulling Gloria with me. “Looks like you’re going to get the closure you needed,” I said.
Gloria tried to keep a stoic face but it must have been too much for her. She broke down on my shoulder for just a few seconds before composing herself again. “I’m sorry,” Gloria said.
“No need to be,” I told her. “You can have the full-blown break down when we get out of here. That’s a promise.”
Gloria wiped her eyes and forced a smile. “Thank you, Elliott. Thank you for everything.”
“All part of my full service,” I said, wrapped her up in my arms and hugged her tightly.
The first set of red lights appeared in the distance in less than fifteen minutes. It was a black and white patrol car. I didn’t recognize the driver, but Lieutenant Anderson was sitting in the passenger seat. He and his officer got out and approached us.
Dean met him near the car and filled him in on what the four of us had been doing all day. When they’d finished, they walked over to where we were standing. Eric laid his hand on Gloria’s shoulder. “I hope this will help put your mind at ease, Gloria,” Eric said. “I know it can’t make up for losing your father, but at least you will at last have the satisfaction of knowing his killer didn’t go unpunished.”
“Thank you, Eric,” Gloria said. She gestured toward Simmons. “What about him?”
“From what Dean tells me,” Eric said, “We probably won’t be able to charge him with murder or accomplice to murder, and maybe not even accomplice to robbery, but we’re sure as hell going to make sure he spends some quality prison time for his part in the cover-up.”
As we stood there talking, a second, third and fourth set of red lights caught our attention through the trees. A full-sized Chrysler sedan appeared, followed by an ambulance and the coroner’s wagon. They all pulled up alongside Eric’s patrol car and hurried over to where we stood. The officer who had driven Eric here held a roll of yellow crime scene tape and proceeded to string it around the area. Andy Reynolds, the county medical examiner, who had replaced Jack Walsh, walked up to Eric, followed by the crime scene team from the Chrysler.
“What do we have, Eric?” Reynolds said.
Eric pointed to the small mound of disturbed dirt that I had cleared from the grave. “Over there, Andy,” he said. “The body’s down a foot and a half or more.
The crime scene team proceeded to snap pictures of the grave and surrounding area. They continued snapping more pictures as more body parts emerged. Once the body had been extricated, the man with the camera took several more from various angles before turning to Eric. “I think we have what we need,” he said, as his co-workers bagged evidence from inside the grave. They attached plastic bags to the victim’s hands with rubber bands. They laid the body onto a gurney with an unzipped body bag lying on it. The body was zipped up and wheeled back to the ambulance. It was the first vehicle to leave the scene.
After several more minutes, the crime scene team loaded all their envelopes of evidence into the Chrysler and followed the amb
ulance back to the morgue. Andy Reynolds lingered for a few more minutes. He turned to Dean. “Looks like you’ll be able to finally mark this case closed,” he said.
“How’s that?” Dean said.
“I remember this case very well,” Andy said, gesturing toward Gloria. I’ll never forget the look on that woman’s face when she walked into the morgue and had to make the formal identification on her father’s body. And you, you had to retire before you got a chance to catch the guy who did it. That couldn’t have sat very well with you, either.”
“It didn’t,” Dean said, laying on arm on Gloria’s shoulder and pulling her close to him. “We both needed this.”
“I have to be getting back,” Andy said. “I’ll get started on this guy right away.”
“Check his left thigh,” Gloria said. “That’s where Dad shot him.”
Andy nodded but didn’t say anything more. He just turned, walked back to his wagon and drove away.
“Looks like you’ve all earned your wages today,” Eric said. “What are you going to do with the rest of your day?”
The four of us looked at each other and almost laughed. “I think we can take the rest of the day off,” I said. “We’ll check back with you later to see if you need anything else from us.”
Eric nodded and turned to Simmons. “Come with me,” he said, turning Simmons around and placing his cuffs on Simmons’ wrists. Eric walked Simmons back to his cruiser and helped him into the back seat. He and his driver got in and drove away, leaving the four of us standing there.
“Let’s call it a day,” I suggested. “We can talk about this whole thing tomorrow. Right now I just want to kick off my shoes, sit in my easy chair and play with my son.” I took Gloria’s hand and walked her back to our car. It took us just ten minutes to get home.
Dean and Dad drove back to the office where Dean let Dad out to get his own car. Before he left, Dean rolled down the passenger side window and leaned over. “Thanks again, Clay,” he said. “I can’t remember a day I’ve enjoyed more.”
“That reminds me,” Clay said. “Did we mention to you about the guy who wants to turn our exploits into a book and possibly a movie?”
“Our exploits?” Dean said. “What exploits are those?”
“Well,” Clay said, “not our exploits. The Cooper Family exploits. He thinks there’s an interesting book in the fact that Elliott’s the third generation in this business. The guy interviewed all three of us and I was wondering if you would consent to be a part of this project, if Henry can work you into the story.”
“Henry?” Dean said.
“Henry Mandell,” Clay said. “He’s the guy writing the book with us and for us. Hell, you and your dad have been involved in so many of the cases we’ve handled, it would be a natural tie-in for him. You know, a lot of human interest stuff. What do you say? Want to see yourself portrayed on the big screen by Robert Duvall?”
“Robert Duvall?” Dean said. “Just how old do you think I am? I was thinking more like Brad Pitt.”
“Brad Pitt, yeah right,” Clay said. “You mean Zasu Pitts, don’t you?”
Even Dean had to laugh at that one. “Sure,” Dean said, “what the hell? It might even be fun. See if your guy wants to include me and Dad in the story.”
“Thanks, Dean,” Clay said and walked to his car.
That night at home, I turned to Gloria and said, “How do you feel now?”
“What do you mean?” Gloria said.
“I mean now that you don’t have to keep this secret from me anymore,” I said. “And speaking of secrets, earlier when we first talked about this I mentioned something to you about us never having any secrets before and you said something like, ‘Haven’t we?’ and I thought I senses some bitterness in your voice. Is there anything we should be talking about?”
Gloria thought about Elliott’s unintentional dalliance with Jane in the desert. She also realized that Elliott had no idea he was married at the time, due to the blow to the head he had suffered at the hands of his kidnappers. “No,” she said. “Nothing comes to mind. How about you? Anything you need to talk about?”
Elliott thought about Gloria and his dad having been a couple before Elliott had shown an interest. He knew that no good could come from a confrontation like that and he sure as hell did not want to drive a wedge between them now. “I have nothing, either,” Elliott said. “Why don’t you put that stuff down and come and sit with your family?”
Gloria laid the dish towel on the counter and sat next to Elliott, with little Matt between them. Elliott wrapped his arm around Gloria’s shoulder and pulled her close. Matt looked up between them and smiled. Gloria looked down and said, “Hey look at that, another tooth came in,” she said.
I touched the new tooth with my finger and smiled at Matt. He beamed and I felt like the luckiest man on earth. I had all that I could hope for and I was eager to see Matt grow up and take his rightful place alongside me and Dad and Grandpa Matt.
The following morning I called Henry Mandell from home and told him that we had some more material for him and not to have the ghost writer fabricate anything about the death of Gloria’s father. He sounded excited at the news and asked to meet all three of us again at the hotel. I told him I’d pass the word on to Dad and Gloria and that we’d be there by nine o’clock.
By the time we all arrived at the hotel, Henry was busy setting up the chairs in a circle, setting out a tray of drinks and arranging his digital recorder on the coffee table. We all took our seats and settled in for the final installment of The Cooper Saga, a working title that Henry had made up. We spent the next fifty-five minutes relaying the latest story of a Cooper case to Henry. When we’d finished, Henry laid down his yellow legal pad and switched off the recorder.
“Well,” Henry said, “that was certainly better than anything our writer could have come up with. It’ll fit right in with the rest of the material.”
“Henry,” Clay said, “You saw how important a role Dean Hollister played in helping resolve our last case. That got me to thinking about the Hollister connection to this whole story. Dean’s father, Dan and my father, Matt were the best of friends and often helped each other whenever they could. Dean and I have known each other since we were kids and the two of us have worked together pretty often. Can you work those two into the project? I think it would help move the story along and it would mean a lot to Dean.”
“Funny you should mention that, Clay,” Henry said. “I was discussing that very subject with the editor just yesterday. He wanted me to have you ask Mr. Hollister if he’d consider signing a release and a permission form for us to use his name in the book and his likeness on the screen. I can’t guarantee that we’ll use his actual name in either, but if he agrees to cooperate with us, he’ll know that it was he and his father that we were talking about.”
“And why is it you couldn’t use their real names?” Clay said.
“It has something to do with issues that only our legal department could fully explain,” Henry said. “But I’ll run it by them and see what they say.”
“Dean would like that,” Clay said.
“Any chance I could talk to this Dean Hollister?” Henry said.
“I’ll give him your number and have him call you,” Clay said. “In case he drops the ball, here’s his number.” Clay passed Henry a slip of paper with Dean’s cell number on it.
“Well, thank you all again for your cooperation and enthusiasm for this project,” Henry said. “I think you’ll be pleased with the final product. I’ll let you know more as it progresses.”
The three of us let ourselves out of the hotel room and drove back to the office. “This should prove interesting,” I said. “Meanwhile, we still have a business to run.”
A few minutes after we returned to the office, my desk phone rang. It was Lieutenant Anderson calling for Dad. I handed the phone to Dad and got out of my chair. Dad sat behind my desk and said, “Eric, what’s up this morning?”
&n
bsp; “Just thought I’d let you know about Simmons before you read it in the papers,” Eric said.
“Simmons?” Dad said. “What about him?”
“Seems he was deathly afraid of going to prison,” Eric said. “The jailer found him this morning, with a sheet wrapped around his neck, hanging from his upturned bed. He must have really wanted to die, because his feet were on the floor. He couldn’t even get high enough off the floor to hang himself, so he just slouched with the sheet around his neck and stayed like that until he died. I just thought you’d all want to know.”
“Thanks for letting us know,” Dad said and hung up the phone.
“What is it, Clay?” Gloria said.
Dad turned toward us. “Ray Simmons is dead,” he said. “He hung himself in his cell last night.”
Gloria and I just looked at each other, speechless. It was an odd sensation, at least for me. For one, I didn’t really know the guy. I felt a little bad for him, but not enough to lose sleep over. On the other hand, he was indirectly involved with Ross Campbell’s death, willingly or not. He covered up Joey Rhodes’ death, resulting in three and a half years of restless and sometimes sleepless nights for Gloria. I weighed the facts and decided the world was a better place without Ray Simmons in it. Piss on him, him and Joey Rhodes both. When all was said and done, I’d decided that Simmons did the one right thing in his miserable existence—he killed himself.
Gloria looked at me and shrugged. “This may sound callous,” she said, “but I don’t care. Not one little bit. Does that make me a bad person?”
“Don’t give it another thought,” I said. “No one’s going to lose any sleep over him, leastwise you or me. He did us both a favor. Now we never have to wonder about whatever became of him or about the day when he’d get out of prison again and make someone else’s life miserable.”
“I suppose you’re right, Elliott,” Gloria said.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 264