Cooper By The Gross (All 144 Cooper Stories In One Volume)

by Bill Bernico

  Amy walked over to the front entrance, cupped her hands on either side of her eyes and pressed her face to the glass. Even standing alongside her, I could see a broad smile creep onto her face.

  “Still looks the same,” she said. “Seems like only yesterday in some ways.”

  “Speaking of McCormick School,” I said. “Wanna hear a good one? Mom gave me a five-dollar bill to go to the store and get a few things that she needed. The whole thing only came to fifty cents and I stuck the other four-fifty in my pocket and carried the milk and whatever else I bought home. I forgot all about the change and so did mom. I hurried back outside to play. Well, sooner or later I reached into my pocket for whatever reason and pulled out a dollar bill.”

  “The change,” Amy said.

  “Right,” I said. “Only I’d forgotten about the change and I had no idea where this dollar came from. Now, don’t ask me why, but I was sure that if I was caught with a dollar on me that I’d get in trouble?”

  “Trouble?” Amy said. “For what?”

  “I said don’t ask,” I told her. “I didn’t know. All I knew was that I’d better get rid of it quick. So I saw this kid sitting right there.” I pointed to one of the recessed windowsills at ground level. “And I walked right up to him and just handed him the dollar and walked away without explanation, like The Lone Ranger riding away without thanks.” I held two fingers up, like a Boy Scout and then crossed my heart with them. “I swear that’s exactly what I did.”

  Amy started to laugh again.

  “Okay,” I said. “A little later on I reached into that same pocket and pulled out another dollar bill and a chill ran up my spine. Keep in mind that I was only five years old at this point. I reached in again and pulled out the other two singles. I held the three singles in my hand and reached in with the other hand and there was a half dollar. Well, I quickly added up what I had and then remembered the dollar I’d given away—four dollars and fifty cents altogether. I thought, hey, if I had another fifty cents, I’d have five dollars and then it dawned on me. Five dollars—mom’s grocery money. Oh oh.”

  “Oh oh is right,” Amy said. “How’d you ever explain that one when you got home?”

  “I don’t remember having to,” I said. “Other than to tell her that I gave a dollar away because I thought I’d get in trouble.”

  “And she went for it?” Amy said.

  “Must have,” I said, “because I don’t remember getting punished for it. But that’s not the part that sticks in my mind.”

  “What is?” Amy asked.

  “All these years,” I said, “I kept wondering what happened when this kid went home and tried to explain where the dollar came from. I imagined him saying something like, ‘Honest. Mom, this kid just walked up to me at the schoolyard and just gave it to me for nothing’ or something along those lines. I always wondered if he got a whipping for making up such an unbelievable story and I also wondered if that one act changed that kid’s life forever. I’ll never know.”

  Amy pointed to the intersection a block east of us. “Hey,” she said. “I can see Phil and Betty’s house from here. We’d better be getting back. Betty will be getting ready to go out tonight and I have to change, too.”

  “All right,” I said, walking Amy back toward Kedzie Avenue.

  Phil got home shortly after five o’clock, showered and changed clothes and was ready to head out just as Betty emerged from the boys’ bedroom with the two little guys in their Sunday suits. They looked like two miniature businessmen on their way to a meeting. Betty led them into the kitchen and made sure they didn’t mess themselves up before we left.

  Gino’s was just like I’d remembered it to be as a young man. The room was dark, lit only by the candles flickering on each table and by the light coming from the kitchen area, which was open so you could see the chef making your pizza. We found a table close enough to the kitchen so the boys could watch the chef and hopefully keep them occupied while the four of us enjoyed a leisurely conversation.

  “You remember this place, Matt?” Phil said, looking at our surroundings.

  “Sure,” I said. “I used to come here all the time when I was still in high school.” I pointed to one of the other booths across the room. “That was my favorite booth.”

  “I’ll say it was,” Phil said.

  “Huh?” Amy said.

  “That was the booth where lover boy here always took Eva Boyd,” Phil said, smiling at me.

  I blushed a little and tried to change the subject with some comment about the food here. Amy wouldn’t let it rest.

  “Who was Eva Boyd?” Amy said.

  “Just some girl I knew back in high school,” I said.

  “Just some girl?” Phil said. “She and Matt…” When he saw the look on my face, he let the subject drop. Phil tried to cover his tracks. “Yeah, she was just some girl Matt knew.”

  Amy looked sideways at me with a playful smirk but didn’t pursue the line of questioning. I was sure she’d store it in her memory bank and bring it up again when we were alone.

  There was a long silence in the conversation before Betty saved the night. “So,” she said, “you two looking forward to parenthood?”

  Amy beamed with the question. “Oh yes,” she said. “It’s what I want more than anything.”

  Betty looked at me. “What about you, Matt?”

  “Of course,” I said. “What’s not to be excited about? I can’t wait to see my son.”

  “Or daughter,” Amy said.

  “Or daughter,” I conceded.

  Just when we thought we’d run out of conversation material, Gino came to our table carrying a large round pan and set it down in the middle of our table. The pizza had been cut into squares instead of slices and it smelled like what I imagined heaven to smell like.

  Troy and Little Matt immediately reached for the pizza but Betty tapped their hands. “Not so fast,” she told them. “It still very hot.”

  We waited the customary thirty seconds before the four of us adults scooped up several pieces each and laid them on our plates. Betty laid two pieces each on the boys’ plates and set them down. From all over the table you could hear the ooh’s and ah’s and the hissing sounds we all made as we tried to bite the hot pizza. From the looks on everyone’s faces, Gino knew that his creation was a winner.

  “You like-a the pizza?” Gino said.

  “Exquisite,” Amy said.

  “Perfect,” Phil remarked between bites.

  “Mmmm,” Troy and Little Matt said with full mouths.

  Gino beamed with pride and walked back to his kitchen.

  It was a night Amy and I would remember for a long time and by the time we’d finished, Amy felt like one of the family. We left the place, our stomachs full and our hearts light. Phil left the table to go pay the bill but came back right away.

  “They wouldn’t take my money,” Phil said. Just then Gino walked over to our table and smiled at all of us but he looked right at me.

  “There’s a-no charge,” Gino said. “Tonight is-a my treat. It’s-a my way to say welcome a-home to Matt.” He waved at us all and returned to the kitchen.

  “How do you like that?” Phil said. “My little brother’s a star here.”

  We all got up from the table and headed for the door. I made sure I left my hat on the seat next to where I was sitting. As everyone filed out the front door I paused on the sidewalk and patted my head.

  “You go on ahead to the car,” I told everyone. “I left my hat inside. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

  The rest of our party walked to the car and I stepped back inside and retrieved my hat, stopping at the cash register to thank Gino for playing along with me. I handed him a ten-dollar bill for our meal and slipped him another five for his cooperation.

  “Thanks, Gino,” I said. “Phil would never have let me pay on my own.”

  Gino stuffed the bills into the register drawer and closed it. “You’re a good brother,” he said, smili
ng at me and laying his hand on my shoulder. “It’s-a good to see you again, Matthew.”

  “You too, Gino,” I said and exited the building.

  Phil had pulled the car up to the curb and I slid into the back seat. When we got back to Phil’s house, I said goodnight to Troy and Little Matt before Betty got them ready for bed. A few minutes later she joined Phil and Amy and me in the living room. She’d just sat down when a tiny voice came from above. I looked up to see Little Matt’s face peering down through the heating grate on the ceiling.

  “Goodnight Uncle Matt,” he said.

  “Goodnight Little Matt,” I said, as his face disappeared again.

  Amy and I looked at each other and we knew exactly what the other was going to say. Amy went first.

  “Margaret O’Brien,” she said to me.

  “Edward G. Robinson,” I replied.

  Phil and Betty looked at each other and then at us. “What is that?” Phil said. “Some kind of code between you two?”

  Amy laughed. “No,” she explained. “Matt and I are both movie buffs and when we saw Little Matt looking down at us from the heating grate, we both pictured that scene in Our Vines Have Tender Grapes where Margaret O’Brien looks down through their heating grate to say goodnight to her pa, Eddie Robinson.”

  “You never saw that one?” I said.

  Phil and Betty both shook their heads. “I don’t think so,” Betty said.

  “Believe me,” I said, “if you ever saw it, you’d remember. Even the big tough guys in the theaters were sniffling at that scene.”

  “Think it’ll ever come to the theaters again?” Betty said. “I’d like to see that one.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It came out four years ago, right after the war ended. Not likely they’ll re-release it. Too bad, you’d have liked that one. Maybe someday they’ll show it on television.”

  “Yeah,” Amy said. “Like that’ll ever happen. I can’t imagine the movie business letting the television business use their movies. The movie people all look down on the TV people, like they were second-class actors or something.”

  Suddenly we’d run out of things to say and sat there awkwardly. I decided to break the silence. “Well, folks,” I said. “Amy and I have a flight tomorrow. I guess we’ll say our good nights now.”

  It had been a long night for everyone and no one objected to the suggestion of turning in for the evening.

  We said our goodbyes to Betty the next morning and thanked her for her hospitality. She gave Amy a long hug and kissed her cheek. Phil drove us to the airport and had to leave us in the terminal, since he was due at the precinct that morning.

  “Captain Burke is coming back this morning,” Phil explained, “and I have to be there when he gets in or I’d wait with you until your plane leaves.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I assured him. “It’s your turn to come out and see us next time, and don’t wait until the boys are all grown up, either.”

  “We won’t,” Phil said. He hugged Amy and shook my hand and without further comment, turned and walked away.

  Amy and I sat in the terminal watching the planes through the window as they took off and landed. We’d sat there just twenty minutes when our flight was announced. We found our seats and settled in for a relaxing trip home.

  Six hours later, or four if you count the time we made up traveling west, we landed at L.A. International Airport. I set my watch back two hours and sighed.

  “We’re home,” I said with a bit of relief.

  Amy squeezed my arm and smiled. The return trip was not nearly as traumatic as the trip out seemed to be. Again we waited for everyone else to file past us before we stood and exited the plane. I found my parking stub where I’d left it in my wallet and looked at what I’d written on the back of the stub. It said, ‘3-G’ to remind me where I’d parked. I found the car right away and helped Amy with her luggage. We made it back home in forty-five minutes, dropped our luggage just inside the front door and collapsed on the sofa.

  When we’d caught our breath I turned to Amy, held her chin in my hand and kissed her.

  “What was that for?” she said.

  “Do I need a reason?” I said.

  Amy simply shook her head and kissed me back.

  We spent what was left of the day just relaxing around the house. Tomorrow I’d go to see the realtor about selling my house and moving the things I wanted to keep into Amy’s, now our house, and getting rid of anything I no longer needed. Amy would wait one more day before going back to work at the library and then things would be back to normal. Or at least that’s what I thought.

  Before I went to see the realtor, I stopped by Dan Hollister’s office. I was curious to know more of the details surrounding Johnny Kincaid’s death and the theft of my backup revolver. Hannah was at her desk as I approached. She looked up and gave me a wide smile when she saw me.

  “Matthew Cooper,” she said in her most cheerful voice. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She stood to greet me and gave me a big hug.

  “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” I told her. “How have you been? How’s Burt?”

  She waved that remark off. “Never mind Burt,” she said. “How are you and Amy doing?”

  “We’re both fine,” I said. “She’ll be home one more day and then she’s going back to work at the library.”

  “It looks like married life agrees with you,” Hannah said, looking me up and down as if she was buying a side of beef.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I have to admit, I love it.” There was a small pause in the conversation and I said, “So, is Dan in his office?”

  “No,” Hannah said. “He’s in a meeting with Captain Burke.” She checked her small gold wristwatch. “He should be out any time now. I expected…” She stopped and looked over my shoulder. “Never mind, here he comes now.”

  I turned around and saw Dan walking my way. His face told me that all was not well. I could tell that he had to force the smile he gave me when he approached.

  “Welcome home, Matt,” Dan said. “You have a good trip?”

  I didn’t answer right away. “Something go wrong?” I said.

  He glanced at Hannah and then back at me. “Come on in,” Dan said, opening his office door and letting me walk past him before he closed it again. “Have a seat, Matt.”

  I reluctantly sat and waited until Dan got comfortable. “What is it?” I said.

  Dan sighed heavily before offering, “It’s Captain Burke. He’s getting flack from the mayor and he passing it along to me. It seems there are some powerful people on the mayor’s back complaining about the way my men shot down Johnny Kincaid.”

  “It was justified, wasn’t it?” I said.

  “Totally,” Dan said. “He wasn’t about to be taken alive. But I have a feeling that the powerful people who complained were mob connected. You know, disguised as upstanding businessmen. They’re screaming for justice.”

  “Can’t the captain just tell ‘em to pound salt up their asses and ignore them?” I said. “Well, maybe not in those exact words, but you know what I mean.”

  “Normally he might,” Dan said, “but these guys seem to have a judge or two in their pockets and they’re putting the pressure on.”

  “So what does the captain expect you to do about it?” I said.

  “He wants a full investigation into the whole mess, including interviews with everyone involved, and that includes you, Matt.”

  “Me?” I said. “What have I got to do with this?” Then I remembered. “Oh yeah, my gun.”

  “That’s right,” Dan said. “I have to make sure to dot all my I’s and cross all my T’s on this one. You can help me out by filing a report here at the station for your stolen .38. At least that part will be done right.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Anything I can do to help your investigation along? I have nothing else going right now and besides, I’d be working in my own best interests.”

  “Which might be a conflict of i
nterest,” Dan said. “No, you’d better stay out of this one. I don’t want Captain Burke to find any excuse to criticize.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll stay out of it, but please let me know what’s going on every now and then, will you?”

  “I can do that,” Dan said. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” I said.

  “For at least offering to help,” Dan said.

  “I’d better let you get back to work,” I said. “I really just stopped in to let you know we’re back and to see how things were going here.”

  “Give Amy a hug for me when you see her,” Dan said.

  “I will,” I said and left Dan’s office. I waved to Hannah as I passed her desk. “Take care,” I told her.

  Hannah held up one hand. “Have Amy call me when she gets a chance, will you Matt?”

  “Sure thing,” I said and left the building.

  I drove back to my office and opened the window in an attempt to let the stale air out. The crisp fall breeze felt good as it rushed in. I turned back and saw a small pile of mail lying beneath the mail chute in my inner door. I picked it up and dropped it on my desk, slipping out of my coat and hat and sitting in my chair.

  The first three envelopes were addressed to Occupant and those went directly into the trashcan. The fourth envelope had a return address that I was not familiar with but the name rang a bell. I opened it to find a check for thirty-five dollars made out to Cooper Investigations. It was signed Russell Finch and dated one day after he’d been in my office to sign the contract. I looked at the front of the envelope again. Delivery had been delayed by poor penmanship. The numbers on my address had been hard to make out but apparently someone in the post office had heard of me and took the time to look up my address. It had been written above where someone had scratched out Finch’s numbers. Well, at least Finch left this world not owing me any money. It was a morbid thought, but I’d had it just the same.

  The last letter was from a government office in Los Angeles. At least that’s what the sender wanted the recipient to think. When I opened it and read the fine print, I discovered it was a cleverly disguised ad for discount furniture. I re-read the front of the envelope again and took a longer look at the return address. I’d only quickly glanced at it before opening it but now I could see that the misleading wording was designed to make the recipient open it instead of just tossing it. I ripped the letter and envelope into eight pieces and dropped the whole mess into my garbage can.