The 1940s faded away and 1950 came in to take their place. The day I got the call from dispatch I had no idea that it would turn out to be a day that would change my life forever. I had answered a dispatch call about a shooting outside of Jacob’s Big and Tall Shop. The victim, as it turned out, was one of my patrolmen who had been walking with Matt Cooper, just casually talking when a sniper took him out from a high floor.
Matt left and I stayed behind to question potential witnesses. Inside Jacob’s I found a woman working in the shoe department. I began to question her about what she might have seen but she wasn’t really working in the front of the store when the shooting occurred. As I sat there questioning the woman, Matt Cooper walked in and approached me.
“Excuse me, Dan,” Cooper said. “Your secretary, Hannah called me at home. She’s been trying to reach you. She’d like you to call in to the station right away.”
The woman and I both stood and faced Cooper. I said, “Thanks, Matt. I’ll take care of that right away.” I gestured toward the woman and introduced her to Matt. “Matt, I’d like you to meet Laverne Brewster.” Then I turned to Laverne. “Laverne, this is Matt Cooper. He used to be a police office. Now he’s a private eye with an office on the boulevard.”
Matt extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Laverne,” he said.
“Same here,” Laverne replied.
“Would you two excuse me?” I said. “I’d better call Hannah back before she comes looking for me. I’ll be right back.” I walked out the front door and headed for the radio car.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Laverne said to Matt.
“All right,” Matt said. The two of them sat in silence for a few seconds before Matt said, “So, did you have some information about this case for Dan?”
Laverne shook her head. “No,” she said. “I was working in the stock room when this terrible thing happened. I didn’t see a thing.”
Matt nodded. “Okay,” he said. “So Dan is…”
“Interesting,” Laverne said, as if to finish Matt’s sentence.
“That’s not exactly what I was going to say,” Matt told her. “I, uh…”
“Laverne smiled. “I know,” she said. “Strange, isn’t it? I mean meeting someone under circumstances like these. Here’s this poor man lying dead outside and a short time later, here I am, talking to a policeman and then suddenly something just clicks.”
“So you two…” Matt started to say.
Laverne smiled and softly nodded. “I think so,” she said. “Funny how you can tell about a person after just a few minutes. I know that old cliché about love at first sight, but I always thought that was a bunch of bull. But it looks like they were right.”
Now she had Matt smiling. “Now that is interesting,” he said. “You know Dan and I have been friends for years and just lately I met and fell in love with the woman of my dreams. We got married last year and we just had a son. And Dan has been ribbing me about the major changes in my life for some time now. I guess now he’s knows that what I’ve been telling him could really happen to anyone, even him.”
Laverne leaned in closer to Matt. “How about for now we just keep this little conversation between the two of us, okay?” she said. “I’m sure if this thing works out between us, Dan will come around and start telling you the same things that you probably told him.”
“Sure,” Matt said. “Mum’s the word.”
I came back in through the front door and walked back to where we were sitting. Laverne picked a shoe up off one of the displays and jumped in with part of a conversation that she and Matt hadn’t been having as a cover. “And if you walk around the house in them for a day or two, they’ll stretch out and eventually get more comfortable,” she said, holding the shoe up in front of Matt’s face.
Matt nodded, playing along with her cover-up. “So you don’t think I should go up another half size then?” he said.
“I wouldn’t,” Laverne said, putting the shoe back on the display.
The two of them thought I was none the wiser. I was on to them. I just didn’t know exactly what had been said while I was out. I looked down at Laverne, holding my hand out. She took it and I pulled her to a standing position. “I’ve got to get back to the station, Miss Brewster,” I said, trying to keep the conversation on a professional level for Matt’s benefit. “If I need any more information I’ll call you.”
“That’ll be fine, Lieutenant,” Laverne said, trying to keep a straight face in front of Matt.
I turned to leave. “You coming, Matt?” I said.
“Right behind you,” Matt said, following me out of the store. Matt turned and winked at Laverne and she winked back. Matt wondered how long it would take me to tell him about my good fortune.
Once outside the store, I turned to Matt and said, “Sorry you had to come all the way down here, Matt.”
“Was it important?” Matt said.
“What’s that?” I said.
“The reason Hannah needed to talk to you,” Matt said. “What did you think I meant?”
I must have seemed to be lost in thought and didn’t answer right away. “Huh?” I said.
Matt probably knew I was hooked. He could tell the symptoms and he could probably see subtleties in my face. “Hannah?” Matt repeated.
“Nothing that couldn’t have waited,” I said. “Listen, I gotta get back to the precinct. I’ll talk to you later.” I slid behind the wheel of the radio car and pulled away from the curb.
Matt drove home and found Amy in the kitchen, washing a few dishes. Clay’s bassinet was sitting across from her and he was asleep. I quietly closed the door and smiled at Amy.
“What’s up with you?” she said.
Matt walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. “You know how I’ve been telling you about Dan, how he’s always ribbing me about being domesticated?” Matt said. “Well guess what?”
He filled his wife in on the little talk he’d had with Laverne Brewster while Dan was in his car. Amy wiped her hands on her apron and turned around.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be something if Laverne was the one?”
“The one what?” Matt said, and then realized what Amy meant. “Oh, yeah, the one. Yes, that would be something. I wonder how long it’ll take him to tell me about it.”
“Let him tell you in his own good time,” Amy said. “And don’t rib him about it, either.”
“Are you kidding?” Matt said. “After the ribbings he’s given me?”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t,” Amy said. “Come on, Matt, be the bigger man in this case and just support your friend when he tells you, all right?”
“All right,” Matt said, knowing full well that he would not let Dan get away with anything as potentially funny as this.
Laverne and I started dating shortly after we’d meet in the men’s clothing shop. We kept steady company for more than four months, never spending more than a day or two at a time apart. She liked many of the same things I did and one night while we sat in the theater watching Bette Davis in All About Eve, I leaned over and whispered in Laverne’s ear, “Will you marry me?”
To my surprise she said yes, and began to fuss over me, making a bit of a racket. Several people in the seats ahead of us turned around, their fingers to their lips. “Shhh,” that all said in unison. I grabbed Laverne’s hand and helped her out of her seat and up the aisle. We left the theater and walked east on Hollywood Boulevard until we found a coffee shop.
Laverne slid into the booth near the front window and I slid in next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. “What do you say we get married this weekend?” I said. “I don’t want to wait.”
“This weekend?” Laverne said, somewhat surprised. “Why so soon?”
“I’m an impatient guy,” I said, “and when I know what I want, I want it right away. What do you say? We can just have a small ceremony at the courthouse with Matt and Amy. I’m su
re they’ll stand up for us.”
Laverne turned toward me and pulled my face to hers. Her kiss lingered and when she pulled away she was smiling. “That was one of the traits I liked about you right from the start,” she said. “You know what you want, and I’m glad it’s me.”
“Then you’ll marry me this weekend?” I said.
“Yes, Dan,” Laverne said.
The weekend came and Amy and Matt arrived at the county courthouse to stand in as witnesses for Laverne and me. The ceremony took less time than it had for Matt and Amy and before we knew it, the four of us were standing outside the courthouse hugging, shaking hands and slapping shoulders. Laverne and I took a short honeymoon to Las Vegas and returned Monday. I had to work, but promised Laverne that we’d take an extended honeymoon later in the month.
The summer came and went and Laverne was getting huge by now. She was due in mid-September and I was sure my relatives already had a wall calendar with Xs on each day as they passed. When Laverne delivered, I was sure the Hollister grapevine would be buzzing with the tallies.
When the day arrived for Laverne to give birth, nothing happened. The same nothing happened for the next six days. The baby was late. I had mixed emotions from this—worry over Laverne’s and the baby’s health, and just a tinge of relief for the calendar counters amongst his side of the family. On the seventh day Laverne’s water broke and she delivered a healthy baby boy shortly after midnight. Dean Orville Hollister came into the world on September 17, 1951. Mother and son came through it without a hitch. I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck, having chewed most of my fingernails so short that several of them bled.
Amy and Matt visited Laverne the next day and brought her a blue blanket and a get well card. Matt had never seen me look so happy as I did when he entered Laverne’s room that morning. When I saw him, I turned away and Matt thought he saw my hand go to my eyes before I turned back toward him.
“Must be something in this hospital’s ventilation system,” I said. “Really irritates the eyes.”
“I know,” Matt said. “Congratulations, Dan.” He shook my hand and patted my shoulder. I pulled a cigar from my shirt pocket and stuck one end of it in Matt’s mouth.
Amy stood at Laverne’s bedside and bent over the baby, tickling his chin and talking nonsensical baby talk. The baby seemed to respond to her voice.
Matt stepped closer and got a look at the bracelet the baby was wearing. He leaned closer to see the name on it. “Dean Orville Hollister,” he said. “No Daniel, Junior?”
“No Matthew Junior?” I said, looking at Matt. He had named his son Clayton, or Clay for short.
“Touché,” Matt said. “But where did you get the names?”
“Dean was Laverne’s father,” I said. “And Orville was my father. The Hollister part we just picked at random.”
Laverne pulled a face at me. “Dan, Dan, Dan,” Laverne said. “What am I going to do with you?”
I stepped closer and bent down to kiss my wife. “Looks like you’ll have to keep me,” I said.
Matt turned to me and said, “Dean’s just fourteen months younger than Clay. Maybe they’ll get to play together when they get older.”
“Maybe,” I said, another tear running down my cheek.
“Damned hospital ventilation system,” Matt said, patting my back.
*****
It had been nearly two years since Dean had come into the world and I felt totally comfortable in my role as husband and father. I kept in frequent touch with Matt Cooper, the former police officer turned private eye and we occasionally worked together on cases that overlapped our territories.
It was a week before Halloween and I found myself partnered with Officer Ted Harding. The two of us worked well together and had gotten to where we knew each other’s moves and thoughts. Officer Harding had been with the Los Angeles Police Department for four years but had never moved up the ranks like Dan had. Ted had a bit of an attitude and his superiors responded by overlooking him when promotions came around. Ted was beginning to get resentful and bitter.
On this particular night, Harding and I had answered a call about a domestic dispute. It was the one type of call that most cops dreaded answering because the outcome could turn on a dime. In cases where the wife was being beaten by the husband and the cops came to arrest him, suddenly the wife would turn on the cops and they’d be thrust into a dangerous situation.
When we got to the house on Las Palmas I called in our location and Officer Harding got out of the patrol car. The husband was sitting on the porch waiting for us. He knew that his wife had called us. Harding walked up the sidewalk and approached him and when he got to the bottom of the stairs, the man pulled out a knife and he leapt at Harding. He headed straight for him, the knife thrust out in front of him. Harding drew his gun but it never phased the charging man a bit, he just kept coming after my partner with his knife. Harding kept retreating from him, backing up and running out of the front yard and along side of the house to the back of the yard.
Harding also had his nightstick out and was trying to hit the man either in the arm to dislodge the knife, or to hit him in the head, but the crazed man kept dodging him. This guy just was focused in on the one officer that he was after. They got into the back yard where there was a little garden and Harding was backing up from the subject. He didn’t want to shoot the man and kept telling the guy to stop, but the man just kept coming at him, slashing with the knife.
Harding tripped on something in the yard and fell down. The ornery man came right up on top of him with the knife raised and was going to stab him. With all other options exhausted, Harding shot once, up from a lying position. His shot hit the man under his chin and exited through the top of his head. The man fell directly on top of Harding before flopping over on his side, dead.
I slid out of the patrol car and hurried around to the back of the house. Harding had sat up by now and was visibly shaken by his ordeal. I helped him to his feet and got him back to the patrol car. I had him sit on the edge of the front seat while I called for backup and a supervisor. They arrived within ten minutes and had brought an ambulance with them.
When I brought Harding down to the station to fill out reports on this, he broke down and cried. He felt very bad about having to kill a man, but it was ruled a justifiable shooting by the supervisor and no charges were brought against him. Word of the incident drifted up to the brass on the third floor and within three weeks they’d issued Officer Theodore Harding a citation for his work on this domestic dispute case. It came with one extra stripe for his arm, but it would still be a few more weeks before Harding could put the whole incident out of his mind.
That would be a good example of the down side of our jobs as cops. But it wasn’t all seriousness and danger. Officer Harding and I had been partnered the following spring on a call that was a lot less stressful. Ted Harding had a twin brother named Ed who lived in Hollywood. He was a factory worker who hated his job and he’d spend a lot of time in the bars trying to drink away the memories of a terrible job. He would go down to skid row practically every night and drink until he passed out on the bar. Ted almost never mentioned his brother to anyone and many a time other bar patrons thought the man passed out on the bar was Officer Ted Harding.
On this particular night the bartender, who knew Ted, called the station and asked for him. Usually Ted had to drive to the bar to pick his brother up and take him home. The people who owned the tavern knew that I was Ted’s sergeant and on the nights when Ted was off and I’d be working, it would fall on me to drive down to the bar and pick up Ed Harding and take him home.
Officer Harding and I would have to pick this guy up off the stool, carry him outside and put him in the back of the squad car, drive him home, pick him up and carry him up a set of outside stairs into his apartment and throw him on his bed. We had done that for a while and we got pretty sick of it.
The very next night I got a call to go over to the same bar again and carry Ed
Harding out of the place, so I called his brother, Ted, who was off duty at home. When Officer Harding answered the phone, I told him, “I want to tell you something, Harding. I’m getting tired of carrying your drunken brother home.”
Embarrassed, Ted Harding said, “Do whatever you want with him, Sarge. I’ve tried talking to him and I can’t seem to get through to him. If you want, take him down to the station and throw him in the cell. Maybe that will sink into that thick skull of his.”
I told Ted, “I’ll take him home tonight, but this is the last time. You understand me?”
Ted cleared his throat and said, “Thanks, Dan. Oh, and by the way, you know he moved.”
“No I didn’t know that,” I said.
“He moved to an upstairs apartment,” Ted said.”
Ted told me how to find Ed’s new apartment, but for some reason, I didn’t write it down. He told me to go to a particular corner and that there was a Mom and Pop store on that corner. He said that Ed’s building was the third house south of there.
The officer I’d been working with that night, John Shane and I picked Ed up in the squad car and drove him home. John counted the houses from the Mom and Pop store and said, “It’s that yellow house over there.” He pointed up the street.
We picked Ed Harding up by his armpits and legs, carried him around the back, and opened the door which led up to a stairway. We carried him upstairs, turned the lights on and there were three bedrooms up there. Every one of the rooms that we looked at looked like a girl’s or woman’s bedroom. They had all fancy curtains, fancy lace on the beds and were decorated the way a woman would for herself.
We carried Ed from one room to the other. We didn’t know which room was his, so we finally laid him on the bed of the room that looked like it could be a man’s room. We shut the lights off, went back down the stairs and got back into the squad car. We were just about ready to drive off and I counted the houses from the corner and instead of the third one, it was the fourth one, so I told Officer Shane, “We got him in the wrong house, that’s not the right house.”
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 268