Thirty minutes later they’d both dressed in their street clothes. Gloria was wearing a pair of slacks and a white blouse. Elliott wore his jeans and a tee shirt. They both exited to the parking lot. They didn’t have a car at the studio, since they lived just ten minutes away, and they enjoyed the walk. It was dark as they headed out the gate, off the lot and down the street toward their house. Their usual route took them past the carousel in the park. It was a place they both knew well. It was where they had gone on one of their first dates several years earlier.
Gloria smiled as she passed the merry-go-round, adorned with carved horses, zebras, buggies and other ornate rides. The ride was silent and still now in the dark as they passed. Gloria pointed to a large white horse with a colorful saddle. “That’s the one you were riding that day,” she said nostalgically. She pointed to the unicorn directly in front of the horse. “I was on that one.”
“1 know,” Elliott said, remembering that warm summer day. “You didn’t know I was watching you the whole time you were riding. And by the time the ride ended, I knew I wanted you for my own.”
They walked on, following the path that led to the sidewalk on the other side of the carousel. The sidewalk led under a cement tunnel with a pedestrian walkway above. Coming toward them through the other end of the tunnel, Elliott could see four or five youths, with their cocky walks and confident attitudes. They were talking loudly and jumping around like little kids as they approached. When they saw Elliott and Gloria, they suddenly got silent. Elliott could see the largest of them lean over and say something to the guy next to him. The group split up with two on one side of the tunnel and three on the other. They were up to no good and Elliott knew it. He could hold his own in a one-on-one situation, but even he was no match against five troublemakers at once. Gloria’s Tae-Kwon-Do skills wouldn’t hold up in a five-to-two match, either. What a night they picked to leave their guns at home.
Elliott leaned over and whispered something to Gloria. Gloria pulled the prop knife from her purse and handed it to Elliott from behind her back. With still thirty yards separating him from the gang, Elliott pretended not to see them as he grabbed Gloria’s arm, spun her around and starting shaking her. They replayed that afternoon’s movie scene right there in the park. Gloria pounded Elliott’s chest with her tiny fists and Elliott grabbed Gloria’s shoulders and shoved her backwards. Gloria went down on her butt as Elliott pulled the prop knife out of his waistband and held it overhead. Gloria hurried to her feet, backing away and screaming. Elliott lunged at her, stabbing the knife into her chest several times. He pushed the hidden button with each stab. Gloria’s white blouse blossomed with red stains. Her screams changed to gurgles as she fell backwards. Elliott stood over her, the knife tip dripping colored corn syrup. His eyes got wide and maniacal as he turned to look at the five punks who’d stopped in their tracks, not believing what they’d just witnessed.
Elliott turned and took two steps towards the punks. He raised the knife overhead and took two more steps toward the five troublemakers. As if on cue, all five turned and ran in the direction they’d come from and in a few seconds they had all disappeared around the corner. Elliott heard their hurried footsteps fading in the distance and he broke out in a wide grin, letting out the breath he’d been holding.
He turned back toward Gloria, extended his hand and pulled her to her feet. He brushed her off, looked at the red mess on her white blouse and handed her the knife.
“Do it just that way tomorrow,” Elliott said, “and we’re sure to get more parts in the next movie.”
“You suppose we can put in for overtime?” Gloria said. “I’d call that a rehearsal, wouldn’t you?”
Elliott nodded. “And a damned good one at that.”
They walked off into the night, assured that their sideline careers were secured.
95 - Baby Steps
At first I didn’t want to sit. I preferred to hover over the doctor, pacing occasionally past the window that overlooked San Francisco Bay. I sensed that the doctor found this annoying. I avoided seeing any of the qualified doctors in Hollywood. It wouldn’t help my situation if Elliott or Gloria found out about my condition. They might never let me live it down. I’d made some lame excuse to make the trip north to San Francisco and selected a doctor by simply opening the phone book and pointing at the page with my eyes closed.
“Wouldn’t you feel better on the couch?” the doctor asked, pointing to the tufted leather piece next to his desk. “You don’t have to lie down if you don’t feel like it, but we may be able to communicate better if you at least sit.”
I hesitated before crouching and finally resting my butt on the very edge of the couch. My hands nervously grabbed my knees before wrapping themselves up in an interlocked finger position.
“Relax, Mr. Cooper,” the doctor said. “By the way, do you prefer Mr. Cooper or would you like me to call you Clay?”
“Let’s stick with Mr. Cooper,” I said. “Makes me feel like I’m getting my money’s worth for this session.”
“Very well, Mr. Cooper,” the doctor said. “No one’s here to judge you. We just need to get to the bottom of your troubles. You can tell me as little or as much as you like.”
I unlocked my fingers and sat back onto the couch a little further. My lips were dry and my throat seemed to close up before I could get any of my words out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “It’s nothing, really,” I said. “I understand millions of people feel the same way I do. I’m not the only… not the only…”
“The word is claustrophobic, Mr. Cooper,” the doctor said. “And it is a lot more common than you might think. You’re right, there are millions of people in this country alone who suffer from claustrophobia, but there is help available. I hesitate to use the word ‘cure’ since a cure is not our ultimate goal. We strive to help the patient cope with their condition.”
“But it’s more than a condition, doctor,” I said. “It’s real. I can tell you in all honesty that I would probably die in some claustrophobic situations.”
The doctor jotted notes in his book. “I don’t doubt that for a moment, Mr. Cooper. The mind can work miracles or it can literally scare a person to death, but we all have it within ourselves to control those feelings to a certain degree if we know how. That’s what I’m here to try to do for you, if you’ll let me.”
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “That’s what I want, doctor. I want to be able to live my life normally.”
“What is normal?” The doctor said. “What seems normal to one person would be totally out of character for another. What you need to do is find a middle ground that suits who you are and what makes you comfortable.”
“And how do I go about doing that?” I said.
The doctor sighed and laid his book and pencil on his desk. “Mr. Cooper, suppose we take this one step at a time,” he said. “What are some of your concerns?”
I ran my thumb and index finger over the hair on the back of my neck, tugging at it. “Mostly it’s crowded places,” I said. “Elevators, small rooms, large crowds, it doesn’t matter. I can’t even sit inside a row of seats at the theater. I have to be on the aisle. My heart races and my palms sweat and I can’t sit still or concentrate when I get in those situations. My friends tell me that there are other, more realistic things I should be afraid of in a city this size, but it doesn’t seem to make any impact on how I feel. They tell me I could be mugged, run over by a streetcar, hit by lightning or squashed in an earthquake. They’ve even tagged a nickname on me. They’re starting to call me Klaus.”
“Klaus?” the doctor said.
“Klaus Trafobic,” I said. “Real funny, isn’t it?”
“And what do you tell them?” the doctor said.
“Well,” I said, “I can see their point on some of those things, like the earthquake. That one you had here yesterday still has me shaking in my boots. That was a big one.”
“Mr. Cooper,” he began, “most people wo
uld be afraid of an earthquake. That’s a real danger.” He caught himself as the words left his mouth. “That is, I mean, oh hell, I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper. I know your fears are just as real as any fear of an earthquake. I don’t like them any more than the next guy. Especially those last few aftershocks.”
“Maybe this was a mistake to come here,” I said. “Maybe I’d better go.” I stood and faced the door but couldn’t seem to take any steps toward it. I turned around and sat again on the edge of the couch.
The doctor picked up his book and opened it to where he’d left off. “Let’s take one of those at a time,” he said. “Look at it logically, Mr. Cooper. What’s the worst that can happen in an elevator?”
I sat up straight. “It could stop between floors,” I said, almost indignantly.
“And…” the doctor said.
“And?” I said. “Isn’t that enough? I could be trapped in there for who knows how long.”
“And…”
“And I don’t like that,” I said. “Trapped there in a small elevator, not able to get out.”
The doctor rose from his chair and set his book back on his desk. He extended his hand out toward me and invited me to stand. “Follow me,” he said, leading me out of his office and into the reception area. He stopped in front of one of the three elevators and pushed the button marked ‘down.’ In a few seconds the doors opened and the doctor stepped in. He turned around and faced me, beckoning me in with his finger. “Come on, Mr. Cooper,” he said. “Stand here next to me.”
I hesitated and looked around, searching for the door to the stairway I’d come up. It was nineteen floors and I was puffing by the time I’d reached the floor with the doctor’s office, but in my mind it was better than the alternative. The doctor made an exaggerated effort to show me that he’d pushed another button. “Come on, Mr. Cooper,” he said. “I’ve pushed the emergency stop button. We’re not going anywhere. We’ll just stand here in the elevator for a minute.”
I took small steps toward him and finally entered the car, staying just inside the doors. I quickly stepped back out into the lobby. “There,” I said. “Are you happy now?”
The doctor stepped out after me. “Mr. Cooper,” he said, “it’s just an enclosure that goes up and down on a cable. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re in no danger, Mr. Cooper. People use them every day all around the world. Come on, just stand next to me for a few seconds and we’ll gradually work our way up from there. You have to make the first step toward your own recovery.”
I felt a little silly now. The receptionist and two other people in the waiting area were starting to look at me. I followed the doctor back into the elevator and closed my eyes. I took deep breaths and opened my eyes again. The seconds felt like hours as I stood there next to my psychiatrist. My stomach was in knots, but I was doing it. I was actually standing in an elevator. Granted, the doors were still open, but I was in nonetheless.
“Ready for step two?” the doctor said, looking me square in the eye.
“Step two?” I said suspiciously. “What is step two?”
“It’s quite simple, really,” the doctor said. “We take a short ride, down one floor and then come back here. That’s all.”
I jumped out of the car in one stride. “No,” I said with a certain amount of conviction. “Not me.”
The doctor tried to reason with me and pushed the emergency stop button again, releasing it. “Mr. Cooper,” he said from within the confines of the car, “just wait here for a moment. I’ll take that ride by myself. Then you can take the next one with me. Okay?”
I said nothing as the doors closed and the lights above the elevator doors flashed, indicating that the car was moving down one floor. It returned to my floor in thirty seconds and the doors opened again to reveal the doctor still standing there, peaceful as a sleeping dog on a front porch.
“Nothing to it,” the doctor said, urging me to join him. “Come on, Mr. Cooper. Once around the block?”
“I don’t know, doc,” I said wringing my hands and wiping them on the tops of my pants legs. “What if something goes wrong?”
“What can go wrong?” the doctor said. “It’s perfectly safe.” He beckoned again with his finger.
I edged forward one step and stopped. “Are you sure?” I said, taking baby steps toward the car.
“I’d bet my life on it,” the doctor said.
The receptionist smiled at me and nodded. I took another step and stopped. The two people in the waiting room had been looking at me but both shifted their glances back to the magazines in their hands. I took another step toward the elevator. It was a big step for me. I wasn’t sure I could do it, but I owed it to myself to try to get over my fears. I started to take another step when I felt the rumble. The aftershock from yesterday’s quake shook the potted plant off the receptionist’s desk. It broke on the floor and scattered bits and pieces of the pot and black dirt everywhere. The receptionist screamed.
I looked toward the elevator. The doctor was still standing in the car, looking around at his surroundings. I heard the loud snap and watched as the elevator car plunged down toward the lobby. The doctor screamed all the way down. A few seconds later I heard the car crash to a stop and then the sounds of people in the lobby screaming.
I started for the stairway but stopped and turned back toward the reception desk. The doctor’s appointment book was lying open to tomorrow’s appointments. I grabbed a pencil and ran a line through my name. I didn’t see the need for any more therapy. My fear of elevators was real enough and I’d just have to learn to live with it.
Just call me Klaus. Klaus Cooper.
96 - That First Step
There’s something about watching a new skyscraper go up that brings out the little kid in me. I was watching one this morning and the process had me totally captivated. On the corner of Western Avenue and Hollywood Boulevard there once stood a grand hotel. At least it may have been grand in 1903 when the Rector Hotel went up on that corner. For years before it was demolished it had become a well-known flop house for transients and hookers. I realized that progress would sooner or later win out over sentiment and that The Rector would have to yield, but it was always hard for me to see a familiar landmark be torn down.
I’ve lived in Hollywood all my life, as did my father, Clay Cooper and for the most part, his father, Matt Cooper. I was the third generation of Coopers to carry on the family business of private investigations and my office, the office Grandpa Matt started out in, was also on Hollywood Boulevard near Cahuenga.
As I stood there watching the crane boom lift another girder into place at the fifteenth floor level I got dizzy. I hate to admit it, but I have acrophobia, a fear of heights, even when I’m standing on the ground and just looking up at a high place. I had to break my gaze and look at the ground before the dizziness went away.
I was on the sidewalk, an eight-foot wooden fence separating me from the construction area. Throughout the length of the fence, at spaced intervals, there were holes in the fence, put there by the construction company so passersby could look in on the work in progress without having to resort to trespassing. I could see at least half a dozen people down the length of the block looking into those holes. Another twenty or so people were standing on the sidewalk, their necks bent back, looking up at the steel workers traversing the girders a hundred fifty feet above the pavement.
I was still looking at the pavement, trying to regain my equilibrium when I heard several women scream in horror while the rest of the crowd gasped. A few seconds later, just ten feet from where I stood, a body smashed to the ground, landing partially in the street. I turned and looked down at what was left of the man in the overalls and hard hat. The hard hat hadn’t helped the man in this instance. His head split open like a watermelon, and the man’s insides were now outside—all over the street. I looked up again and then back at the body and I got dizzy all over again. I turned away and puked in the gutter. I kept puking until my stomach was empty and
then the dry heaves set in. It felt like Rocky Balboa was punching me in the stomach and the bell signaling the end of the round was broken.
The scene at ground level was pandemonium. Most people ran away from the area, unable to look at the mess in the street. Others couldn’t seem to get close enough. These are the people who cause gridlock when police cars and ambulances try to get close. It took just three minutes for two black and white patrol cars and an ambulance to pull up to the curb. I recognized one of the cops in the lead car. It was my old pal from the twelfth precinct, Lieutenant Eric Anderson.
“I’d ask you what happened here, Elliott,” Eric said as he approached me. “But it’s pretty obvious. Did you see it happen?”
I shook my head, still unwilling to look at the dead man. “No,” I said. “I was looking down and just heard the screams from the crowd. The guy landed not ten feet from where I was standing. There’s a sound I’ll never forget as long as I live.”
Eric scanned the crowd that had gathered. “Did anyone here see what happened?” he yelled over their heads. No one stepped forward or raised a hand. Eric turned in the other direction and repeated his question. Still no responses. He turned back to me.
“All these people watching the workers,” he said, “and no one sees the guy fall. What are the odds? I mean, usually there’s someone looking up at the workers. Sometimes there’s even a few people with their phone video camera cranking away.”
“Fate, I guess,” I said. “It’s like there’s never a cop around when you need one, but run just one red light and there he is.”
“This isn’t going to make my job any easier,” Eric said. “I guess I’d better go find the foreman on this job and talk to the other workers. I’ll see you later, Elliott.”
“I was just on my way back to the office anyway,” I said. “Good luck.”
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 281