by Bill Bernico
“How about that?” Dan said, throwing the leaflet back on the table. “The guy musta been some kinda street corner preacher or something.”
“Yeah,” Burns said. “I run into these kind of guys every now and then on the street. Real pests, they are. Some of them seem to have that ‘assholier than thou’ attitude.”
“Well maybe he pissed off the wrong guy one time too many,” Dan said.
“Could be,” Burns said, flipping his leaflet back on the pile.
Hollister and Burns drove back to the precinct. Jerry retreated to an unoccupied office, hoping to be able to finish the report that Hollister had asked for by the end of the day.
The following afternoon as I ripped open a fresh pack of Camels the door to my outer office opened and footsteps echoed toward me. My inner door opened and a woman stepped in. She looked around the room nervously before approaching my desk.
“Are you Mr. Cooper?” she said.
I nodded. “But you can call me Matt.” I pointed to my client’s chair. “Won’t you have a seat, Miss…”
“Mrs. Janick,” the woman corrected. “Mrs. Ralph Janick.” She sat.
“And just what brings you to see me today, Mrs. Janick?”
The woman wrung her hands in her lap before forcing her words out. “It’s my husband, Mr. Coop…, er, I mean Matt. I need your help with a problem I’m having with him.”
I got the cigarette pack open, shook it until several cigarettes flipped up and held the pack out to her. She waved it off and I grabbed one with my lips and lit it. I inhaled deeply and forced the smoke out of my nose.
“Go on,” I said. “What is it you need help with?”
She hesitated for a moment before offering, “In the past year or so Ralph has become a different person.”
“Huh?” I said. “How’s he different?”
“Oh, I don’t know, exactly,” she said. “He’s just not the same man I used to know. It’s almost as if some other person has taken over his body. Oh, I know that’s not the case, but Ralph seems to be acting stranger every day.”
“Well,” I said, “If that is the case, what do you want me to do about it? Slap some sense into him?” I chuckled but my humor was lost on the distraught woman. “I’m sorry, go on.”
“About a year ago Ralph and I were walking down Hollywood Boulevard when some Jesus spouting nut shoved some sort of leaflet into Ralph’s hand, saying something about hearing the word of God or something like that.”
I inhaled and blew a column of smoke toward the ceiling. “And?”
“Well,” she began, “At first Ralph just threw the leaflet into the trash, but a week or so later he said another guy shoved another one at him and this time he looked at it before throwing it away. And a few days after that when one of those guys stopped Ralph on the street, Ralph actually stopped to listen to this guy’s rant. Well, before you know it, Ralph’s out two or three times a week going to meetings and listening to more of that religious rhetoric.”
“And that’s a problem for you?” I said.
“Normally it wouldn’t be,” she began, “but for the past few months he’s been out on the streets passing out that literature himself. And he’s becoming impossible to be around at home. He’s trying to convert me to that nonsense. Mr. Cooper, I want my old husband back. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“What would you suggest I do, kidnap him and slap him around until he goes back to being his old self?”
“That’s just it,” she said. “I don’t know what can be done to bring my old Ralph back to me. I’ve run out of ideas and thought someone like you may know what to do. Do you?”
“Well, I can see that this would not be any matter the police would want to get involved in. They’re pretty big on this whole freedom of religion thing. And aside from being a general pest on the street, he really hasn’t broken any laws.”
She sighed heavily. “I was afraid of that. But the other reason I came to you is that Ralph hasn’t been home in three days. I was hoping you could help me find him.”
I crushed my cigarette stub out in the ashtray and sat upright. “Now there’s something I can help you with. Can you tell me where you last saw him and the area where he has been handing out the leaflets?”
Mrs. Janick pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you, Matt.” She held the handkerchief in her fist. “Last time I saw him was on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard near Cahuenga. He usually walks back and forth between Cahuenga and Highland, always staying on the boulevard. No one’s seen him there since last Friday.”
I stood just as Mrs. Janick got to her feet. “I’ll start there and see what I can dig up.”
“What do you charge?” she said, opening her purse.
“I waved off any attempt to pay me now. “Twenty-five a day and expenses, but you hang onto your money until I ask around a little. If I don’t come up with anything I think I can use, there’s no charge. If this turns into something, I’ll need two days pay in advance. I’ll be in touch, Mrs. Janick.”
“Thank you, Matt. And please call me Lola.” She jotted down a phone number where I could reach her and turned to go when she remembered one other item in her purse. She pulled a small photo from it.
“This is a picture of Ralph,” she said, handing me the photo.
I looked at it briefly. “Can I hang onto this for a while?”
She nodded and turned to reach for the doorknob.
“Lola?” I said. She turned around. “Don’t worry, I’ll find him.”
The door closed and she disappeared down the hall. I pulled my shoulder holster off the coat rack, strapped it on and slipped my coat over it. I was glad for the work, even if it was only finding a wayward husband with a Messiah complex.
My office was less than a block from the area where Ralph Janick distributed his religious materials. I started at the corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga and worked my way west toward Highland. It was almost seven-thirty that Monday evening when I was approached by a man on the street. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in a month or more and he wore a black patch over his left eye. He shoved a half sheet of paper at me.
“Have you heard the word of God today?” He said, staring at me with the intensity of a dog looking for a treat.
I took the flier, looked it over briefly and then looked back at the man. “Actually I have, but thanks for bringing it to my attention. Say, do you know a man by the name of Ralph Janick? He also hands out these fliers along here.”
“Janick?” the man said blankly. “Can’t say that I do, but then I’ve only been doing this since yesterday.”
“What about the guy who normally covered this area?” I said. “Why isn’t he out here today?”
“Is that this Ralph character you asked me about?”
“Might be,” I said. “Can you tell me where you get these fliers and who’s in charge?”
The man yanked the leaflet out of my hands and walked away in a hurry.
“I’m not a cop,” I called after him. He was half a block away before I finished my sentence.
By the time I got to Highland Avenue I was beginning to think that this was more of a transient kind of position. I guessed that whoever provided these foot soldiers with the pamphlets probably exchanged a hot meal and a cot for a few hours of pamphlet distribution. I thought I might stop at the local salvation center and talk to one of the bible thumpers there. I crossed the street to the other side of the boulevard and began walking east. A block east of Highland something drew me to the side street and to the alley that emerged onto it. It sounded like trashcans being turned over and my curiosity got the best of me. As I approached the entrance to the alley, a large black cat scurried out and ran between my legs, nearly knocking me down. I breathed a little easier but still decided to look further into the alley.
Thirty feet or so into the alley I saw several stacks of boxes and a fifty-five gallon drum. Next to it was an overturned trashcan with garbag
e spilling out onto the alley surface. That must be the can the cat knocked over. I stood the can upright and reached for the lid when something caught my eye. Between two of the stacks of boxes I saw a dirty face looking back at me. The rest of the man was covered with garbage. I pushed one of the stacks of boxes away and brushed some of the garbage away from the face with the lifeless eyes. I pulled Lola’s photo from my pocket and compared it to the man on the ground. It was Ralph Janick.
I brushed away some more of the garbage when my hand felt some resistance on the chest area. I cleared away a little more debris and saw that there was a shiny metal shaft lying on the man’s chest. Rising from the shaft was another small, square shaft. The whole thing looked like an upside down T lying there. Where the T met the body, a trickle of blood had pooled on the man’s shirt. It was obviously the handle of some crude dagger sticking out of the man’s chest. Looks like I was going to have to earn my retainer when I reported back to Lola. But first I had to call Dan Hollister at the precinct. This was not the sort of discovery I could keep to myself.
I walked back to the boulevard and found a drug store with a pay phone in the corner. I dropped my nickel and dialed Hollister’s number.
“Hollister,” the voice on the other end said.
“Dan, it’s Matt. Matt Cooper.”
“Well, I didn’t think it was Matt Dillon,” Hollister replied. “You’re the only Matt I know.”
“Save the wisecracks, Dan. I have a situation.” I told him about my find minutes earlier and the phone went silent for a moment. “You still there?” I said.
“Where are you?” Dan said.
“I’m in the drug store on Hollywood Boulevard between Highland and Las Palmas.”
“Wait right there,” Dan said. “That’s me you see pulling up out in front.”
It took Dan only a few minutes to arrive with Officer Jerry Burns. I met them in front of the drug store and walked them back to the alley where I’d found Ralph Janick. Dan knelt next to the body and examined the handle of the object sticking out of the man’s chest. He shot a glance at Burns and at me.
“We’ll handle it from here,” Dan said. He turned to Burns and said, “Go back to that drug store and call this in. Make sure the M.E. gets here, too.”
Burns turned and ran back to the drug store. Dan stood and I stared at him, not saying a word. After a few moments of silence Dan said, “You’re out of it, Cooper. That’s it.”
“But…”
“But, nothing,” Dan said. “This is a police matter so don’t interfere. You got that?”
“Interfere?” I said. “I was the one who found the body, remember?”
“People find bodies all the time and we don’t let them in on the investigation so why should we let you?”
I pursed my lips and shook my head. “That’s the way you want it?”
“That’s the way I want it.”
It took Jack Walsh and his two assistants less than ten minutes to join us at the scene. Jack slipped into his gloves, grabbed the handle of the shiny object and pulled it out. He held it under the beam of Dan’s flashlight and looked at the initials on the handle.
“I-N-R-I again,” Walsh said. “Just like the last one.”
Dan shook his head and motioned to Walsh not to say any more. I caught the motion.
“Last one?” I said. “You’ve come across this scenario before?”
Dan ignored me and knelt again as Walsh reached into the man’s pocket and came up empty. He tried the other pockets with no better luck. He looked at Dan and shook his head.
“No I.D.,” Walsh said. “He was picked clean before he was dumped here.”
“Or stabbed here,” Dan said.
“Or stabbed here,” Walsh admitted. “But we still have no idea who he was yet.”
“That could be a problem,” Dan admitted.
I started to walk away but over my shoulder muttered, “I know who he is,” and kept walking.
Dan stood and turned toward me. “What’d you say, Cooper?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I only discovered the body and people who only discover bodies don’t get to be in on the investigation.” I walked a little further.
Dan hurried up behind me, grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Cooper, if you know who this guy is, you’d better spill it. And I mean now.”
I hesitated for effect before offering, “His wife is my client and I’m on this case, with or without you. Now, as I see it, we can either share information and work on this together or you can waste a few more days and some more taxpayer money trying to find out his identity.” I stopped and waited for Dan’s answer.
Dan looked back at Walsh and then turned back to me. He licked his lips and let out a sigh. “All right, you want in, you’re in. But I’m in charge and everything you find out you bring to me. Is that clear, Cooper?”
“Clear as mud,” I said. “Now what did Walsh mean by ‘just like the last one?’”
“Uh uh,” Dan said. “You first. Who is this guy?”
Dan and I walked back to where the body lay. “Ralph Janick,” I said. “His wife hadn’t seen him since last Friday and hired me to look into it. Turns out the guy was one of those pests who hand out Jesus literature on the boulevard.”
Walsh bagged the dagger and handed it to Dan. “Fits,” he said. “Just like the first one.”
“Okay,” I said. “Your turn. What was special about this murder?”
Dan explained about the first victim and the identical weapon that was pulled from that victim’s chest. He went on to say that the first victim was found not far from this murder scene and that he was also suspected of being a religious leaflet distributor.
“More than just coincidence,” I said.
Dan nodded. “But you keep this under your hat, Cooper. I don’t want it getting out that both victims were Jesus nuts, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
“Mum’s the word,” I said. “But I’ll have to tell Mrs. Janick that I found him and she may want to know more about the circumstances.”
“If she wants to know any more than that, you just send her to see me,” Dan said. “I’m gonna have to talk to her either way, so if you like I can be the one to break it to her.”
“No,” I said. “She’s my client. I owe her that much.”
Dan nodded again. “Okay, but you just remember what I said about that two-way street of information. I wanna know what you know.”
“Likewise,” I said.
I walked a couple of blocks back to my car and drove across town to the Janick residence. It was a white clapboard house set back off the street. It looked like it could use a coat of paint. Lola Janick answered the door on the first ring. She turned on the porch light, recognized me and invited me inside.
“Mr. Cooper,” she said, smiling. “Won’t you come in?” She held out her hand toward the sofa, inviting me to sit. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thank you, Lola,” I said, removing my hat and holding it in my hands. “I can’t stay long.”
She sat across from me in an overstuffed chair and leaned toward me. “Do you have news about Ralph? Have you found anything out?”
I took a deep breath and let it out again before jumping into a task I hated. “I’m afraid so,” I began. “I found Mr. Janick less than an hour ago in Hollywood.”
“Don’t tell me he was still pushing those dreadful fliers to the pedestrians on the boulevard? My word, what folks must think of him.”
“No,” I said. “He wasn’t handing out fliers. He was, um, down a side street. Mrs. Janick, I hate to have to tell you, but Ralph is dead. I’m so sorry.”
Lola held her breath and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes got wide and she slumped back into the folds of the chair. I rose from the sofa and sat on the arm of the chair, draping my arm around Lola’s shoulder.
She dropped the hand from her mouth and her breath was coming faster now, in short spurts. “What happened to him?”
“He was murdered,” I said. “I found him in an alley off Selma a block from the boulevard. The coroner has his body and I’m afraid they’re going to need you to come and identify the body. I can drive you there if you want.”
Lola rose from the chair and fell into my arms, sobbing onto my shoulder. She reached for a tissue on the coffee table, wiped her eyes and stood up straight. She looked at me with the saddest eyes I’d seen in a long time and nodded. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Cooper.”
I saw her coat draped across the back of a dining room chair and pulled it up and held it behind Lola. She slipped her arms in and buttoned up the front. On her way out, she grabbed her purse and locked the door. I helped her down the porch and into my car.
We drove downtown to the medical examiner’s office and I guided her to Jack Walsh’s office in the basement. Jack heard me knocking on his door and called from the examination room. “Back here,” he said.
I walked with Lola to a row of drawers on the far wall where Jack was pulling one open. We approached the drawer and I held my palm up toward Jack. “Mrs. Janick, this is Jack Walsh. He’s the medical examiner.”
Lola nodded to him and looked toward the drawer. I put my arm around her shoulder and said, “Are you ready for this?”
“Yes,” she said weakly.
Jack pulled the sheet off the face of the man in the drawer and Lola peered in briefly before looking away again. She nodded. “That’s Ralph.”
Jack replaced the sheet over the face and slid the drawer closed again. He looked at Lola and remarked, “If you will just step over to my office I have just a couple of forms for you to sign before I can release the body. If you like, I can recommend a funeral home to help you with the arrangements.”
“Thank you,” Lola said, sitting at Jack’s desk. “Where must I sign?”
Jack pulled out two forms, flipped to the last page of each and pointed to blank lines on each page. “Right here, and here.”
