The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

by Bernico, Bill

  “Burt,” I said, pointing at the wounded man on the floor. “We have to get that man to a doctor or he’ll die.”

  “Good,” Burt said. “I hope he does.” He returned the gun barrel to Shirley’s temple. “And she can join him.”

  “No,” I yelled. “Burt, stop for a minute and think. So far, you haven’t killed anybody and if you let me get that man a doctor, you won’t be charged with murder. I know you don’t want to kill anybody, Burt, so why not back up and let me pull that man out of here and get him a doctor. I’m sure if you stop all this now and get yourself a good lawyer, who knows, maybe you can get off with assault. Think Burt, think before you do anything else. There’s no going back if you do.”

  Burt lowered the gun away from his wife’s head and I thought for a moment that I was getting through to him. To my shock and surprise, he lowered the gun, aiming it at the man on the floor. He pulled the trigger again and put this next shot squarely into the back of the man’s head. The man stopped crawling and bled out very quickly. Burt turned the gun on his wife and pulled the trigger again. Shirley’s head exploded in a spray of red that splattered the hallway wall. Shirley slumped to the floor and made a mess with her own pool of blood.

  Instinctively I pulled my .38 from under my arm and pointed it at Burt. “Drop it, Burt,” I yelled. “It’s over now. Put the gun down. I don’t want to shoot you.”

  “You won’t have to,” Burt said and stuck the barrel of his handgun under his chin and pulled the trigger for the third and last time. Burt’s body fell like a marionette with its strings cut, landing on top of his wife’s body. The gun fell from his hand and landed in a pool of his wife’s blood.

  I holstered my .38 and rushed toward the three bodies. There was no getting around the huge pool of blood that had formed beneath the three bodies. I had to step directly into it in order to press my fingers into Shirley Harbinson’s neck. I couldn’t find a pulse and quickly stepped back again, leaving bloody footprints all the way back to the reception area.

  Penny was still cowering beneath the front counter, still crying. I stepped behind the counter and dialed the police, telling them what happened and to send an ambulance.

  It was nearly nine o’clock before Lieutenant Anderson had finished questioning me and securing the crime scene. I agreed to some in first thin tomorrow morning and repeat everything to the stenographer. I told Anderson if he needed anything else tonight, that he could reach me at home. He agreed and let me go.

  By the time I got home it was nearly quarter to ten and Gloria was waiting up for me. She made an exaggerated effort of looking at an imaginary wristwatch when I walked in the front door. “How long does it take to check on a client’s wife and then leave again?” she said. “Or did you take time for something else?”

  When I didn’t smile or react at all, Gloria read my face and stopped grilling me. I took two steps toward her and she held up one hand. “Stop,” she said, pointing to the floor behind me. “You want to wipe your feet, Mister?” She came over to where I stood and looked down at the marks I’d made on the floor. She looked back up at me with alarm. “Is that blood?”

  I slowly nodded before I bent down and untied my shoelaces. I slipped out of my shoes and walked into the living room. Gloria followed and we sat on the sofa.

  “What happened?” Gloria said, genuine concern filling her voice now.

  I told her about the events that had unfolded in the hallway of Massage Heaven and how three people had died that night because of one man’s inability to deal with a bad situation. Gloria squeezed my hand and laid her head on my shoulder. We sat there in silence for several minutes, each of us appreciating the other’s presence.

  Trying to break a tense moment, Gloria looked up at me and said, “I don’t suppose you got paid up front?”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

  93 - Separated At Birth

  I sat at the bar, next to my lifelong friend and retired cop, Dean Hollister. He and I had known each other since we were kids. Our fathers had worked together, first in the forties as cops and then as friends when Dad left the force to open Cooper Investigations. Dean and I had both followed in our fathers’ footsteps; me as a private eye and Dean as one of L.A. finest. We were both retired now with plenty of time on our hands and almost nothing to do. I helped out occasionally at the office when my son, Elliott and his wife, Gloria needed an extra body, but for the most part, I had my days to myself and could do pretty much whatever I wanted.

  By the time Dean had left the department, he had risen to the rank of Lieutenant, the same position his father, Dan had held before him. Dean and I had spent so much time together over the past sixty years that we could finish each other’s sentences, read each other’s thoughts and know each other’s moves before we did them. It was what made us a good team, whether we were on a case or just fishing on the lake.

  We’d been at this bar before many times. It was one of our favorite hangouts and it was within walking distance from my house in Glendale. We’d been here longer than we had intended, but it really didn’t matter, since neither of us was driving and neither of us had any place we needed to be.

  “One more and that’s it for me,” I said, upending my glass and setting it back on the bar.

  “Wuss,” Dean said.

  “What did you call me?” I said.

  “A wuss,” Dean repeated. “You’re a wuss, Clay Cooper. Do you have someplace else you need to be?”

  “No,” I said, “but I know my limit and one more is it. You can stay if you want to, but I’m walking home after one more drink.” I held up two fingers and the bartender came back over to our end of the bar carrying a bottle. He poured two more shots into each of our glasses and topped them off with seltzer.

  Dean lifted his glass in a toast to me. “To,” he said and then paused. “What do we drink to?” he said.

  I pointed across the bar to two old guys and said, “To those two guys. That’ll be us in ten years.”

  The two men raised their glasses, too and we toasted each other.

  Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s a mirror, you dumb ass,” he said.

  I took a closer look at the two old men across from us and then looked at Dean. Sure enough, that was us. Something struck my funny bone and I broke out laughing. Dean had already taken a sip from his drink and when he saw my reaction, he sprayed the contents of his mouth all over the bar and began laughing himself.

  The bartender returned to our end of the bar and shook his head. “I think you two have had enough for one night,” he said. “Time to go home. Come on.”

  “We were just leaving anyway,” I said, and slid off my stool. Dean followed close behind and we walked out of the place and down the sidewalk, toward my house.

  We gone half a block when I looked up at a billboard and saw a large round yellow smiley face with the caption, ‘Have A Nice Day’ written below it in a font that was supposed to look like it was written by some kindergarten kid who had just learned to print.

  I pointed at the sign and looked at Dean. “Now who do you suppose benefits from that billboard?” I said.

  “Huh?” Dean said, looking up.

  I stopped walking and turned to Dean. “I mean, don’t people who put up billboards usually have something to sell so they can make enough money to pay for the cost of the billboard?” I said. “This guy’s not selling anything and there’s no way to recoup his advertising costs, so why put it up?”

  “I don’t know,” Dean said. “Maybe it’s some rich guy who just wants the rest of Hollywood to cheer up. What do I care if he wants to waste his money?”

  “Just seems like a waste of money,” I said and continued walking towards home.

  Dean had to double-time a few steps to catch up with me. “So how are the kids doing with the business?” he said. “Any new and exciting cases?”

  “Business is a little slow,” I said. “They haven’t called me in to the office for nearly three weeks now. The
economy is weak and I guess people aren’t spending money on things like private eyes.”

  “But you’re still getting along, aren’t you?” Dean said.

  “Me?” I said. “Sure. I still get my social security check every month and I don’t need that much to get by on. Funny, but I always thought I’d need more than I do, but I always end up with a little money left at the end of the month. What about you? You’re not old enough for social security yet.”

  “Another eleven months and I can start collecting,” Dean said. “But remember, I put thirty years in with the department. I have a pretty hefty pension to keep me going. Next year at this time, I’ll also have the social security checks to put in the bank. I’ll still live on just the pension and put the social security checks in a special account. I figure in two years I’ll have enough in there to buy myself a new boat. Then we can get out on the lake with our cooler full of beer and have us a time.”

  “So tell me,” I said, “why do we still clamber for work if we’re so set?”

  Dean shrugged. “Probably just for something to do,” he said. “Life can get a little boring if you don’t have a reason to get out of bed in the morning.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “I’d come into the office for free just to have some place to go and something to do, but there’s not much doing there, either.”

  A moment later we found ourselves standing outside of my house. Dean turned toward his car and said, “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you.” He dug in his pocket for his car keys.

  I snatched the keys out of his hand and walked toward my front door.

  Dean followed behind me, hurrying to catch up. “What are you doing with my keys?” he said.

  “You’re not driving anywhere tonight,” I said. “You can stay here until tomorrow morning. I have a spare bedroom. Besides, once I get settled in I don’t want to have to get up and get dressed and go downtown to identify your body after they pull it out of your wreck of a car. Come on, no arguments. You’re staying here tonight.”

  Dean made a grab for the keys, but I pulled them out of his reach. He finally gave up and resigned himself to stay with me tonight. When we got inside, he flopped down on the sofa and closed his eyes.

  I grabbed his hand and pulled him to a standing position. “Not there,” I said, and pushed him toward the guest bedroom. I opened the door and pointed at the bed. “There,” I said. “And make sure you take your shoes off.”

  “Yes, ma,” Dean said and closed the door.

  I was ready to climb into my own bed when the phone rang on my living room end table. I quickly picked it up and in a sleepy voice, said, “Who is this? Do you know what time it is?”

  “Dad, it’s me,” my son, Elliott said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last couple of hours. Where have you been?”

  “I was out with Dean Hollister,” I said. “We just got back. He’s staying here tonight. I think he’s had a few too many.”

  “Uh huh,” Elliott said. “And that means you’ve had a few too many, too, doesn’t it?”

  “What’s your point?” I said. “We’re both big boys now. We can take care of ourselves.”

  “Yeah?” Elliott said. “Which one of you was driving?”

  “We walked,” I said. “The bar was just down the block and when we got back I took Dean’s keys so he wouldn’t drive. You happy now?”

  “Well, thank goodness for that anyway,” Elliott said.

  “You didn’t say what you wanted,” I said.

  “What?” Elliott said.

  “Why were you trying to call me?” I said. “What was so important?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Elliott said. “I almost forgot. “I have to go out on a case tomorrow and Gloria has a dentist appointment. I wanted to see if you could come in and just keep an eye on the place while we’re out. You know, watch the phones, talk to anyone who might wander in.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think I remember the routine. What time did you need me to come in?”

  “Gloria’s appointment is at ten,” Elliott said. “And I have to meet a client at eleven, so if you could make it by ten-thirty, that would help.”

  “I’ll be there,” I said. “Anything else, or can I go to bed now?”

  “Go on to bed,” Elliott said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Give Gloria a hug for me,” I said, before hanging up the phone and walking back to my bedroom.

  I hung up, waited for the dial tone and then dialed Dean’s house. His wife, Helen answered.

  “Sorry if I woke you, Helen,” I said. “It’s Clay Cooper. Just wanted to let you know Dean’s staying here with me tonight. I didn’t want him driving.”

  “Thanks, Clay,” Helen said. “I can use the mini vacation. Dean’s been hanging around the house way too much lately. It’ll be nice to have the house to myself for a change. Thanks for calling.”

  “I’ll have him call you when he gets up tomorrow,” I said.

  “Thanks, Clay,” Helen said, and hung up.

  The next morning I was up by eight. I shaved and showered and was dressed long before Dean stirred in the guest bedroom. I had the coffee pot on the stove and breakfast on the table right about the time Dean emerged, showered and dressed and looking like he’d live another day. I poured him a cup of coffee and put the pot back on the stove. I didn’t drink it myself, but kept some around for guests.

  “How’s the head?” I said, as Dean took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Still in one piece,” he said, sipping from his cup. He set the cup down and looked at me. “You know, for someone who doesn’t drink the stuff, you sure make a mean pot of coffee.”

  I shrugged. “Dad never drank it, either,” I said. “I learned how to make the stuff when Gloria started with us a few years back. She and Elliott drink it, God knows why.”

  Dean took another sip. “Ah,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  I poured myself a tall glass of chocolate milk and drank from it. “Ah,” I said. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Suddenly Dean realized that I was dressed better than I normally was. “What’s with you?” he said, gesturing toward me with his coffee cup. “Going out on a job interview or something?”

  “Didn’t you hear the phone last night after you went to bed?” I said.

  Dean shook his head. “Guess not,” he said. “I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow. Somebody call?”

  “Elliott,” I said. “He needs me to come into the office this morning for a while. I guess Gloria has a dentist appointment and he has to see a client, so I’m holding down the fort until one of ‘em gets back. Hey, why don’t you come with me? It can get a little boring there all by myself.”

  “And what am I supposed to do while you count flowers on the wall?” Dean said.

  “We don’t have any flowers on the wall,” I said.

  “That was just a figure of speech,” Dean said. “What am I supposed to do while you stare out the window and dangle your feet? Is that better?”

  I pulled open a kitchen drawer and pulled out a pack of playing cards, waving them in Dean’s face. “Huh?” I said. “Maybe a little two-handed poker or gin?”

  Dean finished his eggs and bacon, washing it down with his coffee. “I guess,” he said. “When do they need you in?”

  “Ten-thirty,” I said. “Oh, and by the way, I called Helen last night and told her you were here.”

  Dean slapped his forehead. “Helen,” he said. “That’s right, I almost forgot about her.”

  “I told her you’d call her this morning after you got up,” I said. “She mentioned something about wanting the house to herself for a while, so don’t sweat coming with me to the office.”

  Dean walked into the living room, sat on the sofa and picked up the phone. A moment later, after he’d finished his call home, he came back to the kitchen. “She’s cool with it,” he said. “She told me to take my time.”

  “Well
, then,” I said. “Looks like it’s you and me this morning. Just make sure you bring your money. You still owe me from the last game.” I looked on my wall calendar and read my note, turning back to Dean. “You’re into me for three dollars and fifteen cents.”

  “Somehow I knew you’d remember,” Dean said. “I’ll win that back and then some.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time yet,” I said. “Why don’t you settle into the easy chair and turn on the TV? Let’s see what the weatherman has in store for us today. I just need to clean up these dishes before I can relax. Don’t like them hanging over me.”

  “Okay, Mr. OCD,” Dean said. “You know where to find me when you’re done.” He stepped into the living room, flopped down in my favorite chair, grabbed the remote and turned on the television set.

  “Try channel seven,” I yelled from the kitchen. “They have the best coverage.”

  Dean pressed the seven on the remote and then set it on the coffee table. The screen switched to a man standing in front of a map of the United States. He was pointing to a high pressure area over Colorado, saying something about the snow that was headed toward Denver.

  I finished the last of the dishes and joined Dean in front of the TV. I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up enough so that I could actually hear the anchorman.

  Dean looked at me and scowled. “Think you got that loud enough, old man?” he said.

  “Oh,” I said, and turned it down three notches. “Habit, I guess. I always thought my hearing would be the second thing to go.”

  “Second?” Dean said. “What was the first?” Then it dawned on him and he blushed. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Never mind.” There was an awkward moment of silence before he added, “You ever think about trying the little blue pill?”

  I shrugged. “First I’d have to have a reason,” I said. “I don’t even have a steady girlfriend these days. What about you?”

  “Helen wouldn’t let me have one,” Dean said, smiling. “Oh, you mean… No, I don’t have any trouble in that department.”