The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories)

by Bernico, Bill

  Donna Babcock was dabbing at her eyes now and that prompted Gloria to get up from her desk and approach Donna. She laid an arm around Donna’s shoulder.

  “Suppose you tell us about it,” Gloria said.

  Donna sniffed, wiped her nose and then continued. “It’s something called Edwards Syndrome,” she said. “It’s also known as Trisomy 18 or T18 for short. It has something to do with part of an extra eighteenth chromosome. They tell me it only occurs in one out of six thousand births and that most of the babies affected by it die before birth. This condition has a very low rate of survival, resulting from heart abnormalities, kidney malformations, and other internal organ disorders. So you see, Mr. Cooper, I need to find my natural father so I can check his medical history. I don’t want to take any chances, especially at my age.”

  Gloria patted Donna’s shoulder. “We’ll do whatever it takes to find your father,” she said. “Don’t you worry about it. If we can’t find him ourselves, we have so many more connections in the field that someone will be able to.”

  Donna patted the top of Gloria’s hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Cooper,” she said.

  “Please call me Gloria,” Gloria told her, and then pulled another chair up alongside Donna’s. “Suppose you tell us all you know about your father and then let us see what we can find out. After a couple of days we should have something for you to go on.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “We can start on the search this morning already. We’ll find him for you.”

  “Thank you, too, Mr. Cooper,” Donna said. “I feel better already. Should I call you in a couple of days?”

  “Leave me a number where we can reach you,” I said. “It’s probably better if we call you when we have something.”

  Donna Babcock jotted her name and home phone number on the pad I’d handed her. She was about to pass the pad back to me and then added another phone number. “That second one is my cell phone,” she said.

  We talked for another twenty minutes about her father. Donna gave us all she knew about him and then stopped.

  “I’m sorry there isn’t more to go on,” she said, “but that’s all I know about him.”

  “What about your mother?” Gloria said. “Would she be able to tell us any more than this?”

  Donna shook her head. “Mom passed away six months ago, long before I got pregnant. It just never came up and I didn’t ask her anything more about dad than she’d already told me.”

  “This should be enough to get us started,” I said and rose from my desk. “We’ll be in touch.” Gloria walked Donna Babcock to the door and gave her a hug before letting her go.

  Gloria turned to me. “Poor thing,” she said. “It must be devastating to learn that you might be carrying a ticking bomb like T18 or that your father might have passed something like that on to you. I think for me, at least, that the not knowing would be the hardest part of all.”

  “Makes you thankful for the healthy boy we got, doesn’t it?” I said.

  Gloria hugged me. “Let’s find Donna’s father.” She stopped briefly at her desk and switched off her data entry program, clicking instead on the Internet icon. Gloria looked up at me. “I just want to check something for a second.” She typed in Steven Babcock’s name and waited. A few seconds later she got more than seventeen hundred hits. She looked up at me. “That’s what I was afraid of. Steven Babcock is a somewhat common name. Let’s go see if we can narrow that down a little.”

  “What did you have in mind?” I said.

  “I figured we’d start at the hall of records downtown,” Gloria said. Their databases are a lot more encompassing that anything available to the public.”

  After more than an hour at the county computer we were still no closer to finding Donna Babcock’s father than we had been. “Either this guy is good at covering his tracks,” I said, “or he’s been dead for more than twenty-six years and he took all his records with him.”

  We finally gave up in frustration and walked up to the counter. My old friend, Marie Bullard was sitting at her desk behind the counter.

  “Any luck finding what you were looking for?” Marie said.

  I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said. “You’d think we would find at least one little shred of evidence. It’s like the guy never existed. I’m about ready to give up on this guy.”

  “Not so fast,” Marie said. “There’s one more avenue you might want to try.”

  “Really?” I said. “What’s that?”

  Marie wrote a name and number down on a piece of paper and slid it across the counter toward me. “I have this friend,” she said. “She and her husband run a genealogy service.”

  “Genealogy,” I said.

  “You know,” Marie explained. “Family trees and all that. They’ve been known to be able to trace a client’s family back more than four hundred years. She’s not inexpensive, but she gets results.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “We’ll give that a try.”

  “Thank you,” Gloria said to Marie.

  Marie just turned away and sat behind her desk again. Gloria and I left the building and returned to our car.

  “What is it?” Gloria said. “She’s Miss Congeniality to you but acts like I don’t exist. Does she still have the hots for you, Elliott?”

  “Don’t they all?” I said, polishing my fingernails on my shirt.

  Gloria punched me in the shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed the number on the paper and asked for Melinda Cameron.

  “This is Melinda,” the voice said. “How can I help you?”

  “Yes,” Gloria said, “we got your name from Marie Bullard. She tells us you’re pretty good at tracking down a person’s history.”

  “We like to think we are,” Melinda said. “Who were you looking for?”

  “Not over the phone,” Gloria said. “I was wonder if my husband and I could stop in and talk to you about the person we’re looking for.”

  “Certainly,” Melinda said, and gave Gloria the address. “If you’re at City Hall now, you’re less than ten minutes away from our office. I’ll expect to see you then.”

  Gloria wrote the address down and closed her phone. “Let’s go,” she said, gesturing out the windshield of my high-tech surveillance van. We spent the next forty minutes giving Melinda all we knew about Steven Babcock. She told us that it would take her some time to look into the matter and that she’d call us by the end of the day, whether she had anything or not. We agreed and returned to our office.

  We got the call around four o’clock that afternoon. It was Melinda Cameron with the genealogy results.

  “Mr. Cooper,” Melinda began. “I have some results for you on your request. They may not be the results you were looking for, but they are what they are. I’m afraid Steven Babcock is dead.”

  “Is that so?” I said. “When did this happen?” I could hear papers shuffling over the phone.

  “Mr. Babcock died in September of nineteen ninety-one,” Melinda said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful to you.”

  “Thank you, Melinda,” I said. “At least I can help put closure on someone else’s concerns. Could you send your bill to my office?”

  “Mr. Cooper,” Melinda said, “normally I would, but I really haven’t done all that much for you. I spent less than an hour finding Mr. Babcock and just a few minutes more determining that he was dead. There’ll be no charge for this one, but I would appreciate any recommendations you’d care to throw my way.”

  “You’ve got it, Melinda,” I said. “And thank you again for your effort. I’ll be in touch.” I hung up the phone and told Gloria what Melinda had learned.

  “Poor Donna,” Gloria said. “Not knowing is sometimes worse than knowing. I hope she’ll get through this all right.”

  “Well,” I said, “whatever her decision is, it’ll be hers alone to make. I don’t envy her.” I sighed and looked at Gloria. “Would you make the call, please?
She may take it better coming from you.”

  Gloria nodded. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll do it now if you’ll go down to the corner and get us a couple of chocolate malts.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I know when you want the office to yourself. I’ll take my time.”

  “Thanks, Elliott,” Gloria said.

  I gave Gloria half an hour to make the call and an extra fifteen minutes just to be by herself and think. By the time I walked in with the two chocolate malts she was back on her computer working on that never-ending data entry chore. I handed her one of the malts and said, “So, how’d it go with Donna?”

  Gloria took a sip from her straw, swallowed and licked her lips. “She took it fairly well,” Gloria said. “There was no loss on her part, since she hadn’t seen the guy in more than a quarter century. But she was pretty disappointed not to know for sure whether or not her father might have carried the gene for Trisomy 18. She had asked how much she owed us and Gloria told her there would be no charge. “Well,” Gloria told me, “Melinda didn’t charge us and I felt it was only right to pass that on to Donna. She’s got enough on her mind.”

  “So today was pretty much a wash all around,” I said.

  “It wasn’t a total waste,” Gloria said. “We can add Melinda Cameron to our Rolodex of contacts. You never know when her services might come in handy for us.”

  “I suppose,” I said.

  “You know, Elliott,” Gloria said. “Meeting Melinda got me to thinking about our own family tree.”

  “What about it?” I said.

  “Aren’t you curious about your roots?” Gloria said. “Don’t you want to know where you come from?”

  “Why?” I said. “How can I use that information once I get it?”

  “You never know,” Gloria said. “How far can you trace your family back now?”

  I thought about it for a moment and then said, “Only about as far back as my great-grandfather, Nick. And I only know about him because Grandpa Matt used to tell me about him.”

  “Nick’s the one who was shot in the back, wasn’t he?” Gloria said. “Something about land leases and oil rights from way back when?”

  I nodded. “Nick died back in nineteen twenty-nine,” I said, “just a few months before the stock market crash.”

  “Didn’t you ever ask Grandpa Matt about his grandfather or anyone else who came before him?” Gloria said.

  “I never even thought about it,” I said. “And I still wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t brought it up just now.”

  “But wouldn’t it be something if somewhere along your family tree, you were related to someone famous?”

  “Or infamous,” I said. “A search like that could also go the other way. What if I found out that I was related to Al Capone, for instance? That’s not something that I’d want to get around, especially in a business like the one we’re in. Would you?”

  “There is that,” Gloria said. “But there are also the potential clients out there who would be drawn to a connection like that one. I mean, Capone’s been dead, what, nearly seventy years. Who’d even care anymore? Besides, the odds of you being connected to him are a million to one. What do you say? Should we have a peek into your past?”

  I had to admit, I was a little curious about my ancestors. “Why not?” I said. “We’ll call Melinda tomorrow and set up a time to go and see her.”

  “That’s great,” Gloria said. “When we get the family tree, I’ll be sure and put it away so Matt will have it to look back on when he’s older.”

  “And when we’re finished digging up my family skeletons,” I said, “Melinda can start in on the Campbell family tree.”

  Gloria smiled. I think that’s what she wanted all along, but she surely took the long way around getting there. “Fair enough,” she said.

  The following morning Gloria called Melinda and set up an appointment for us to go in and talk with her. Melinda told Gloria what I should bring in order to help make her search easier and more efficient. Armed with a briefcase full of whatever I could find, Gloria and I went to see Melinda.

  Melinda greeted us at the door and invited us to sit. “Can I get anything for either of you?” she said. “Coffee, soda, tea perhaps?”

  I waved her off. “Nothing for me, thanks,” I said.

  “Tea sounds nice,” Gloria said.

  Melinda set the cup of tea in front of Melinda and then looked at my briefcase. “Did you bring me something interesting that I can use?” she said.

  I popped the clasps open on my briefcase and opened it, pulling out its contents and handing them to Melinda. “I’m afraid that’s all the printed material and photos that I have,” I said. “The rest is all up here.” I tapped the side of my head with my finger.

  Melinda took a quick look at what I’d brought and then laid it on the table between us. From another table behind her she produced what looked like a blank flow chart with boxes connected by lines and arrows, forming somewhat of a pyramid of boxes. She laid it in front of Gloria and me and pointed to the bottom box. “This would be your son, Matt,” she said and wrote Matt’s name in the box. She pointed with her pencil to the two boxes directly above Matt’s name. “And here is where we put your two names.” She wrote both our names in the boxes and leaned back in her chair. “There, you already have two levels to your family tree.”

  “I see the logic behind this,” I said. “So above my box you would fill in my father and mother’s names.” I looked at Melinda, expecting her to do it.

  Melinda handed me the pencil. “You do it, Elliott,” she said.

  I took the pencil from her and wrote Clay Cooper and Veronica Cooper in the boxes above my name. I handed the pencil to Gloria and gestured toward the flow chart. “Go on,” I said, “fill in your parents’ names.” She filled them in and handed the pencil back to me. I was getting the hang of this and followed the connecting lines up from Mom and Dad’s names. I wrote Matt Cooper above Dad’s name and in the box to the right of Grandpa Matt I wrote Amy Callahan and then looked at Melinda. “Grandpa Matt was married twice,” I said. “Where should we put the name of his first wife, Stella McCarthy?”

  Melinda looked at the flow chart. “Did that marriage result in any children?” she said.

  “No,” I told her. “Stella was killed two years after they were married. They never had any children.”

  “Then we can leave it off the chart,” Melinda said. “After all, we’re just tracing family roots, and Stella’s don’t lead anywhere. So, do you know your great-grandparents’ names?”

  “Great-Grandpa Nick was Matt’s father,” I offered. “And Nick’s wife was Eve something or other. If I ever heard it, I don’t remember what it was. And that’s as far back as I know about my family.”

  “Well, that’s a good start,” Melinda said. “I’ve had pretty good success with less. Would it be all right with you if I spoke to your father? He may be able to fill in a few more pieces of this puzzle.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I don’t think he’d mind. He might even get a kick out of doing a little detective work on this case.”

  “That’s great,” Melinda said. “Can you leave your material with me while I research this?”

  “Take the briefcase and all,” I said. “That’s as good a place as any to keep it in. Just don’t lose anything. These are the only copies I have.”

  “They’ll be safe with me,” Melinda said. “Are you in any kind of hurry for this family tree?”

  “No,” I said. “Take all the time you need. Just give me a call when you’ve taken it as far back as you can. And thanks again. I’m getting excited to find out more about my family’s roots.”

  Gloria and I drove back to Hollywood and talked about what might lie in my family’s past. “You know,” Gloria said, “if you get some great results, we might want to think about a new advertising campaign for the business. Our Yellow Pages ad has been the same for years, at least since I’ve known you. And I’ll bet if I a
sked Clay, he’d tell me that the ad hasn’t changed since Matt ran the business back in the forties.”

  “What’s your point, Gloria?” I said.

  “My point is that it wouldn’t hurt to keep up with the times,” Gloria said. “Have you seen some of the other P.I. ads? If I didn’t already know you and if I needed a P.I. and if I was looking at ads in the Yellow Pages, yours is not one that would stick in my mind. I mean I might get around to calling you eventually, if all other avenues were exhausted. Hey, all I’m saying is that I think it’s time we brought the business in line with the twenty-first century. The Philip Marlowe era has passed.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said. “I guess I’m just a traditionalist, like Dad. We both like the familiarity of seeing the ad we’ve become accustomed to for all these years.”

  “Elliott,” Gloria said, “it’s fine to want to cling to the past, but realistically we have to update the ad, maybe think about some sort of logo, and maybe even a new sign on the outside of the building.”

  “But Dad made that sign when he joined Grandpa Matt in ‘71,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Gloria said. “But it says, ‘Cooper and Son’ and your son won’t be old enough to join you in this business for another twenty years. And since Clay has retired, the sign has become irrelevant. You can still be Cooper, but I’m certainly not your son, now am I?”

  “Okay,” I said, “you made your point. We’ll look into updating after we get the results from Melinda. Meanwhile if you want to start thinking about doodling out some kind of logo, I’ll look at it.”

  Gloria leaned over in her seat and kissed my cheek. “See,” she said, “that wasn’t so painful, was it?” Just then she looked out her window and then turned back to me. “Can we pull in here and get a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

  I pulled the van into the fast food restaurant parking lot and killed the engine. Gloria and I hopped out of the van and went inside. I suppose I could have gone through the drive-thru, but I sat up too high in the van and it was always awkward to pass my money over and take my food from that little window. We took a booth by the front window so we could watch the traffic go by as we ate. Gloria slid in and I walked up to the counter to get our food. By the time I returned to the booth, Gloria was talking to a man who was leaning over the bench, his face close to Gloria’s. When she saw me, she leaned back, away from the man and looked at his face.