I made a note of those names on my yellow pad. “You should meet my father, Clay,” I said. “He can hold his own with anybody in any Beatle trivia contest. He once helped solve a case where a serial killer left clues related to Beatle song titles.”
“Well,” Abbie said, “those are the only names I ever heard Raymond mention. Doesn’t sound like much, I know, but it’s all I have.”
“It’s enough to get me started,” I said. “I’ll get going on it right away, if that’s okay with you.”
“Please, Elliott,” she said. “I won’t rest until the person who pushed Raymond off that building is in custody or dead.”
I showed Abbie out and called Gloria’s cell phone. She was probably still in the doctor’s office, because I got her voice mail. I left her a message about getting here as soon as she was finished with Matt and hung up. I decided to wait for Gloria before I did any checking on Abbie’s behalf. I looked at my computer again but just wasn’t in the mood for any more data entry. I turned it on anyway and connected to the Internet. I decided to look up whatever I could find on Harper Construction, the company that Raymond Bailey had worked for.
I got several hits right away and clicked on the first link. It was a newspaper article about safety violations that Harper Construction had faced on their last build, a thirty-two story high rise in Downtown Los Angeles three years ago. The story went on to say that the head of Harper Construction, Leo Harper had been sited eighteen times for safety violations and had paid fines in excess of a hundred twenty-five thousand dollars.
There was a photo accompanying the article. It showed five men standing on the girder of an unfinished high rise building. The caption below the photo identified the men as Leo Harper, Derek Slate, John Mullins, Paul Stewart and George Kendall. These were the men Raymond Bailey had told his wife about.
I jotted the five names down on my yellow legal pad and narrowed my search specifically to each of the five men listed in the photo. All I got from everyone except Harper was just the bare essentials but nothing more that I found useful. The search on Leo Harper told me all I needed to know about Harper, his business and his family history, starting with his grandfather, Vincent Harper, who had founded the company in 1941. Further down in the article it told of Leo’s father, Alan, who ran the company following Vincent’s death in 1972. Alan Harper took control of Harper Construction and held that position until his death in 2008. Leo had been running the company since.
I checked a few financial information locations on the web and followed with interest the progress of the Harper Construction Company. Its stock sold publicly on the exchange and the history chart showed a steady increase from the time of its first IPO in 1973 until late in 2008. Coincidentally the stock started to take a dip shortly after Leo took control of the company and that gave me something to look into to. I still wasn’t sure how or if it was connected to Raymond’s Bailey’s fifteen-story fall.
It was a few minutes after twelve noon when Gloria walked into the office. She set her purse on her desk, hung up her coat and came over to my desk.
“How did Matt’s checkup go this morning?” I said, still clicking on links. “Everything all right?”
“The doctor only gave him another eighty years to live,” Gloria said and then looked to me for some reaction.
“That’s fine,” I said without looking up.
“Says Matt has a bad case of epidermis opinglottis,” Gloria said. “Could be fourth stage.”
“Uh huh,” I said, still staring at my computer screen, moving the mouse around.
“He wants you to get checked out for it,” Gloria added. “You know, in case it’s contagious.”
“Okay,” I said. After a moment I couldn’t hold back any longer and shifted my eyes toward Gloria without moving my head.
“You snot,” she said. “Did you hear any of what I said?”
“Every word,” I told her.
“Would it have killed you to show a little interest?” Gloria said impatiently.
“I already knew all this,” I said. “I called the doctor’s office, trying to reach you. They told me you’d already left so while I had them on the line I asked about Matt’s checkup. See? I am showing an interest.”
Gloria pointed at my computer screen. “What’s that you’re looking up?” she said.
“I’m trying to get a little background on Harper Construction,” I said, swiveling my screen toward her. “I wanted to know if they were in any kind of trouble, financial or otherwise and whether or not there was any connection to Raymond Bailey’s death.”
“And what did you find out?” Gloria said.
“Not much,” I had to admit. “I may find out more by actually talking to some of the principle players. I thought I’d visit the construction site.”
“Look out for any grease buckets,” Gloria said. “And wear a parachute if you’re going to walk around anywhere up high.”
“Yes, Mom,” I said. “Do you have anything pressing going on here this afternoon, or would you like to join me?”
“What happens if I stay here?” Gloria said.
I pointed to her desktop computer. “More data entry,” I said. “We’re getting close to the end.”
Gloria grabbed her purse and turned to me. “Let’s go, Mr. Cooper,” she said, walking me to the elevator.
We drove east on the boulevard and I found a parking spot half a block from Western Avenue. Gloria and I walked past the taco stand and crossed the street to where the construction fence barrier began. We followed it around to the main gate and stopped when the guard came out of the shack with his hand up. I fished out my wallet and opened it to my badge and I.D. card.
“I’m here to see Derek Slate,” I said. “Can you direct me to him?”
“What is this in regard to?” the guard said.
“I’m looking into the death of Raymond Bailey,” I said. “You remember, the guy who fell fifteen stories earlier this week? It was in all the papers.”
The guard let out a deep breath. “Do I remember?” he said. “I was right here when it happened. You can’t imagine the sound he made when he hit.”
“I think I can,” I said. “Mr. Bailey landed less than ten feet from me. I know all too well what it sounded like. Now, can you direct me to Mr. Slate?”
“Certainly,” the guard said, pointing to an unattended bulldozer. “See that bulldozer?” he said. “Just turn right when you get to it and you’ll see a trailer with a set of steps going up to the door. He’s in there. Just watch your step and put these on.” He handed Gloria and me each a yellow hard hat. We put them on and walked toward the bulldozer.
We found the trailer and climbed the five steps. I knocked on the door and heard a gruff voice on the other side.
“Come in,” the voice said.
I pulled the door open and peered inside. “Derek Slate?” I said.
The man nodded and motioned for us to come inside. “Close the door,” he said. “It’s too damned loud out there. I can’t even hear myself think. So what can I do for you?”
I extended my hand. “Elliott Cooper,” I said, briefly flashing my credentials. “And this is Gloria.”
He shook her hand as well and gestured toward a couple of chairs. “Have a seat,” Slate said. “I’ll be with you in just a minute. I just have one thing I still have to take care of before the next concrete truck pulls into the yard.” Slate picked up a walkie-talkie and held it to his face. He presses the talk button and said, “Mr. Stewart, make sure your crew is ready for the next truckload of concrete. It’ll be there in just a minute.”
The walkie-talkie squawked back, “I’m on it, Mr. Slate.”
Derek Slate laid the walkie-talkie down on his desk and turned to me. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Cooper?”
“Were you here Monday morning,” I said, “around nine or so?”
“I was,” Slate said.
“So was I,” I said. “Mr. Bailey hit the pavement not ten feet from m
e. In fact that’s why we’re here, Mr. Slate. We’ve been hired to look into his death.”
“Did OSHA hire you?” Slate said. “I knew they’d be sending someone around, I just didn’t expect a couple like you two.”
“What about us two?” Gloria said.
“I don’t know,” Slate said. “I’ve just never seen a woman OSHA inspector before.”
“You still haven’t,” Gloria said. “We’re not from OSHA. We’re working for Mrs. Bailey.”
Slate immediately stood. “In that case this meeting is over,” Slate said. “Our attorneys have advised us not to talk to anyone regarding this case, so if you’ll both excuse me, I have a concrete pour to oversee.”
“But…” I started to say before Slate showed us to the door and then left the trailer himself.
Slate walked away toward a concrete truck that had just pulled into the construction area. We stood there, briefly watching while the large barrel of the truck rotated and concrete poured out onto a conveyor belt that carried the concrete to the upper levels of the unfinished building.
“We’re wasting our time here, Elliott,” Gloria said. “Let’s go.”
Gloria and I walked back to the car and sat there for a moment, collecting their thoughts and mapping out their strategies.
“Suppose we check Raymond Bailey’s background?” I said. “Something may pop out at us and we can take it from there.”
Gloria gestured with her palm toward the windshield. “Lead on, boss.”
We drove to the hall of records and found my contact, Marie Bullard, behind the counter as we walked in. I smiled and gave a polite wave. “Marie,” I said, “how are you today?”
“Elliott,” she said, smiling. Her smile faded when she saw Gloria next to me. “What brings you around these parts?”
“Looking for a little information,” I said.
Marie glanced at Gloria and suddenly I remembered my manners. “Marie,” I said, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Gloria. Gloria, this is Marie Bullard.”
Gloria held her hand out and Marie took it, giving it just one pump before releasing it again.
“Mrs. Cooper,” Marie said curtly and then turned her attentions back to me. “What specifically are you looking for, Elliott,” Marie said.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I think it’s going to be one of those things that’ll I’ll know if and when I see it. Suppose we start with real estate records and go from there?”
“Sure thing, Elliott,” Marie said and turned to a shelf full of bound computer printouts. She pulled one large volume off the shelf and placed it in front of me, open to the first page. “Start with this one and let me know if you need anything else, Elliott. I have a few things to take care of in the meanwhile.” Marie walked through a door behind her and closed it again.
“Oh, Elliott,” Gloria said in a mocking voice. “Is the anything else I can do for you Sweekins?”
I kept my poker face on. “I didn’t know you were the jealous type,” I said and started paging through the book. Gloria punched me in the shoulder and settled in next to me to have a look at the printouts.
“What are we looking for?” she said.
“Let’s just see what Raymond Bailey’s real estate activity looks like,” I said, turning another page.
I found several references to Raymond Bailey along with three parcels of land that he’d recently purchased. I made a note of the tracts in my notepad along with their locations and selling prices. This was all that was listed under Bailey’s name. I closed the book, slid it back across the counter and tapped the bell on the countertop. Marie came back out from the back room.
“Find what you were looking for, Elliott?” Marie said.
I shrugged. “Can I see the records for marriages and divorces?” I said. “And while you’re at it, can I also have the printouts for wills?”
Marie smiled at me, but avoided eye contact with Gloria altogether. She placed the two volumes on the counter and returned the real estate volume to the shelf. I started to look through the first bound volume.
“You know,” Marie said, “You can take both of these over to that table over there.” She gestured toward a long oak table surrounded by oak chairs.
“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll do that,” and carried the printouts to the table.
Gloria started paging through the volume of wills while I began looking for any reference to Bailey under marriages and divorces. I found Raymond and Abigail Bailey listed under marriages, along with the date they were married. And I found one more reference to Raymond Bailey under divorces. It seems that Mr. Bailey had been married once before to a woman named Suzanne Lazslo. The divorce decree was dated just three months earlier than his marriage to Abigail Fisher. I noted those two occurrences in my notepad and closed the volume.
“I think I found something,” Gloria said, turning the volume toward me while turning sideways in her chair. “Right here, see?”
I could see Raymond Bailey’s name listed along with four other people under a reference to the will of one George Kendall. “Kendall,” I said. “That name sounds familiar.” I flipped through the pages of my notepad and stopped when I found George Kendall’s name. “I thought so,” I said, jabbing a finger on the page with Kendall’s name. “He was one of the guys Abbie mentioned when she first came to see me. There was John Mullins, Paul Stewart and George Kendall—John, Paul and George.”
“And Bailey’s listed as one of the beneficiaries in Kendall’s will,” Gloria said. “Who else is listed as beneficiary?”
I slid my finger down the page and whispered, “John Mullins, Paul Stewart, Derek Slate and someone named Cochrane, Tom Cochrane. Now who do you suppose he’ll turn out to be?”
“Don’t you think it’s time we stopped in to see Lieutenant Anderson?” Gloria said.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” I said. “Let’s go see what Eric has to say.” I returned the bound printouts to the counter and thanked Marie for her help.
Eric was out when we got to the twelfth precinct. His secretary told us that we could probably still find him around the back of the building where new construction was going on. Gloria and I walked down the hallway and out the back door to the parking lot. To my left I could see scaffolding and sawhorses separating the unfinished new section of the police station from the parking lot. Eric was standing just inside the sawhorses as we approached. He waved when he saw us coming.
“Eric,” I said cordially.
“Elliott,” Eric responded and then turned to my wife. “Gloria, what brings you two down here?”
I held up a hand. “I didn’t know you were adding on to the building,” I said. “When did this all come about?”
“You haven’t been here in a while, have you?” Eric said. “Construction on our new wing started more than a month ago. You really ought to get out more.”
“Well,” I explained, “I do have another job that takes up most of my time.”
Eric gestured toward the hole in the ground. “They had already excavated this part of the basement and had partial construction begun,” Eric said. Down in the hole were large slabs of cement that were laid with these steel reinforcement rods sticking up out of them in certain places.
“What’s the ambulance doing here?” Gloria said. “Did one of the workers get hurt here, too?”
“Nothing that cut and dried,” Eric said. “We arrested a man on a drug warrant and brought him in to the detective bureau on the first floor. The man was sitting at a desk being interrogated by two of my detectives when he suddenly stood up and bolted towards the window. He dove head first right out through the glass window and went down and landed right in this basement area. It was just a miracle that somehow he never landed on any of those rods and impaled himself.”
Just then the two ambulance attendants brought the gurney up out of the hole and wheeled it toward the waiting ambulance. One of them looked at Eric and said, “He’s suffered some broken bones but he will
survive.”
Eric looked down at the man on the gurney, his nose broken and bleeding and his face and hands scraped up. “And once you’re released from the hospital,” Eric told the suspect, “we’ll start the whole interrogation process all over again. Only this time you’ll be cuffed to the table so you won’t be tempted to try flying again.” He looked up at the attendant. “Take him away and just to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere, I’m sending an officer along with him.”
The suspect was loaded into the back of the ambulance and the doors were closed. It drove away, its lights and siren clearing a path in front of it.
Eric turned back to Gloria and me. “Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?” he said.
I gestured with my hand toward the door. “Can we go someplace private?” I said.
“My office,” Eric said.
Gloria and I followed him back down the hall and made ourselves comfortable in Eric’s office. “Have you ever hear of a man named Tom Cochrane?” I said.
“Is that all you have?” Eric said. “It sounds like a pretty common name.”
Gloria leaned forward in her chair. “This one is listed as a beneficiary on the will of a man named George Kendall,” Gloria said. “Kendall works at Harper Construction.”
“That same construction company where that man took a header off the fifteenth floor earlier this week?” Eric said.
“One and the same,” Gloria said. “And the only connection we have between the victim and Mr. Cochrane is the mutual acquaintances that the victim told his wife about—three men that he worked with before his death.”
“These men listed as beneficiaries for Kendall?” Eric said. “Are they related to Kendall? I mean, people don’t generally list their friends or co-workers as beneficiaries, so they?”
“We hadn’t dug that deeply yet, Eric,” I said. “We wanted to see if you had anything on this Cochrane character first. Can you see if he has a record?”
Eric swiveled in his chair and turned toward his computer screen. He typed in Cochrane’s last name then first and then clicked on search. A few seconds later a man’s picture appeared on the screen along with his name, address, date of birth and other pertinent information. Eric scrolled down past the bottom of the screen. “Bingo,” he said.
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 283