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

by Bill Bernico

  The gunman waits patiently until both wrestlers have retreated to their corners. His rifle is loaded, cocked and ready to fire. He just needs the right opportunity. He looks through the scope again and sights the crosshairs on Beasley’s head. The sight makes him smile, but he delays gratification for a while longer.

  Both wrestlers are on their feet now, sizing each other up. The referee stands between them apparently explaining the rules, which he himself will later ignore. The referee backs away and the two men grab for each other’s necks, trying to gain leverage. They break away and try again. The man in the red shorts drops to his butt, locking his legs around the other man’s calves. It’s Beasley and he has Baronski in a scissor lock and he’s rolling sideways, trying to make his opponent roll with him.

  This could be the opportunity the gunman has been waiting for. Both men are relatively motionless while one tries to exert enough pressure on the other to make him concede the match. He sights in on Beasley’s head, placing the crosshairs just above his left ear. He holds his breath and waits between heartbeats and then pulls the trigger. He’s still looking through the scope and sees the moment of impact as George, “The Animal” Beasley’s head explodes in a spray of red and gray, splattering his opponent with brain matter.

  He shifts his scope to Baronski’s face and the expression on it is priceless, but he can’t stick around to bask in the glow of his accomplishment. His escape is timed to the second and he immediately breaks down his rifle and tripod and deposits the pieces back into the suitcase. He slides silently through the ductwork until he’s at the grate over the center stall. He peers down through the grate. Oh no, there’s a man sitting on the toilet directly below him. He had not anticipated this sort of obstacle in his way.

  He has to think fast. The police will be in the building in a matter of minutes. He works up a mouthful of spit, sloshing it around in his mouth until it more liquid that air bubbles. He leans over the grate and lets the spit dangles from his lips and when his target is sighted, he lets the liquid fall from his lips and then backs away from the grate. The spit hits the man on the back of his neck. Toilet man slaps his hand to his neck and looks up. He quickly finishes his business, flushes, pulls up his pants and exits the restroom without washing his hands. The pig.

  The gunman slides the grate over and slips through the hole and onto the toilet tank. He pulls his suitcase down with him and slides the grate back into place. When he’s back on the floor he nearly gags at the smell the man had left in this little cubicle. He gets out of there as fast as he can and exits to the hallway. It is empty and he hurries to the fire escape exit. He makes it to the roof and tosses his suitcase across the chasm to the other rooftop, jumping after it. The stairway to the street takes him another minute and a half and before the police have even arrived outside the auditorium, the gunman is on his way. They’re slower than he’d anticipated, he thinks as he smiles to himself and walks away.

  *****

  The Tennessee Waltz song had nearly lulled me to sleep when it ended and a news announcer came on saying, “This just in from The Olympic Auditorium. The wrestling match here tonight ended in tragedy as George, “The Animal” Beasley was shot to death while still in the ring. His opponent, Arthur “Mad Man” Baronski was not hit. More on this as the story unfolds. Now back to the musical portion of our broadcast.”

  I had to admit that was the strangest news bulletin I’d ever heard. It made me sit up and for a few seconds it even made me forget my worries. George Beasley’s problems were much bigger. My problem would have to wait on the back burner for now. I needed to talk to someone and there was only one person I knew that would fit the bill.

  I sat behind my desk, placed my handset back in the cradle, waited a few seconds and then lifted it to my ear, listening for the dial tone. I dialed Dan Hollister. He answered the phone himself. “Where’s Hannah?” I said.

  “She’s having lunch,” Dan said. “What’s up?”

  “Not much,” I said. “Just wondering if you could get away from there for a while.”

  “I’d have to wait until Hannah gets back,” Dan said. “Should only be a few more minutes. Why, what did you have in mind?”

  “I just needed to run a few thoughts by you and get your take on it,” I said. “If you’re busy, it can wait.”

  Dan must have sensed something in my voice because he said, “No, I can get another girl to watch the desk until Hannah gets back. You wanna meet someplace or did you want to talk here in my office?”

  “I’d like to get away somewhere,” I said. “I just need to vent and I don’t want prying ears anywhere nearby. Could you possibly come to my office, Dan?”

  “Give me fifteen minutes,” Dan said. “The place can run without me for a while.”

  “Thanks,” I said and hung up. I breathed easier and felt some of the weight lifting from my shoulders.

  I got up and unlocked my office door and sat on the sofa again. Why after all these years did this girl have to come looking for me? What did I do to deserve this? Thinking back to that night with Susan all those years ago, I remembered exactly what I did to deserve this. I couldn’t really feel sorry for myself, but I did just the same.

  It had only been ten minutes since I’d hung up the phone but I could hear footsteps coming toward my office door. I got up and grabbed the handle and pulled the door open and was about to greet Dan, but instead said, “What are you doing here?”

  Beatrice Dorsey walked into my office and gave me a strange stare. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt strange to me, as if she knew that I knew.

  “Mr. Cooper,” she said. “Have you made any progress?”

  “Huh?” Was all I could manage.

  “On my case,” she said. “Did you go to see my step dad yet?”

  “Yes, I did,” I said.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” I said, knowing what she was after.

  “What did you find out?” She seemed anxious and I couldn’t really blame her.

  “My real father,” she said. “Did you get his name from Ron, I mean, my step dad?”

  An alarm bell rang in my head. She’d never referred to him as Ron before. Why now? I looked her over, studying her face, looking for traces of any resemblance to me. If it was there I didn’t see it, or maybe I didn’t want to see it. I gestured toward the other end of the sofa and she sat, facing me.

  Bea must have seen something in my face that didn’t fit. She said, “What is it, Mr. Cooper?”

  “Nothing,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I’m expecting a client any minute now and your visit threw me off a little. We’ll have to take this up another time, if you don’t mind.”

  “But I’m so anxious to find out who my real dad is,” Bea said. “You can understand that, can’t you?”

  “I can,” I said, “but you’re not my only client. We’ll do this another time.”

  “How long will it take you with this client?” Bea said. “I could wait in the outer office.”

  That’s just what I didn’t need; her prying ears listening to me unload on Dan. “No,” I said. “It could be a while before we’re finished. Let me call you later.”

  “Okay,” Bea said reluctantly. She rose from the sofa and turned toward the door just as it opened and Dan Hollister stepped in.

  “Hi Matt,” Dan said, turning toward Bea. “Hello,” he said politely.

  Bea nodded. “Hello,” she said and then turned back to me. “Call me when you can.”

  “I promise,” I said and closed the door behind her. I listened and waited until I heard her close the outer door and exit to the hall. I silently stepped into the outer office and eased the door open, sneaking a peek down the hall. I watched as Bea got on the elevator and the door closed behind her before I returned to my office.

  Dan was still standing just inside the inner door and gave me a strange look when I returned. “What was that all about?” Dan said, pointing toward the door.

  “Th
at,” I said, “was the reason I called you. Sit down.” I gestured toward the sofa.

  “She got you spooked?” Dan said, referring to Bea.

  I nodded silently. “I’ve got trouble, Dan, big trouble.”

  “Tell me about it,” Dan said. “Maybe I can help.”

  I laid out the whole story for him starting with Beatrice Dorsey hiring me to find her real dad and ending with me leaving Ronald Dorsey after finding out the name of Bea’s real dad.

  “Then she shows up here,” I said, “And I have all I can do to either slug her or hug her. It’s tearing me in two directions. I know I should do the right thing and tell her about what I found, but on the other hand, I can’t afford to mess up the great life Amy and I have carved out for ourselves. I just don’t know what to do.”

  Dan thought for a moment and then said, “There are several options as I see it, Matt. One, you could tell her you traced her real dad to someone you make up and say he’s dead. Two, you can tell her you are her dad and see where the chips fall from there. Three, you can pack up Amy and Clay and leave town. Or four, you can let me do a little snooping on my own. I can use the department’s resources to check this girl out. For all you know, she might have just picked you to be a patsy in some scheme.”

  “But I did sleep with her mother right out of high school,” I said. “And I checked on the family myself and the facts seem to bear her out. Why would she want to set me up? I’m not a rich man by any means.”

  “I don’t know, Matt,” Dan said. “I’m just throwing ideas out there to see what sounds plausible. I could be all wet on this, I admit. But what other choices do you have?”

  I rubbed my head. It ached and there were just too many thoughts rolling around inside for me to think straight.

  “I could probably stall her for a couple of days,” I said. “If you want to take a look at her and her step dad, it might just rule out the possibility of fraud. At least that would be one less worry for me.”

  “Option number one is still on the table,” Dan said. “What about just telling her that her real dad’s dead?”

  “Because,” I said, “and this is the part that worries me. What if I decide later that I have feelings for her and want to be a part of her life? It could be hard to back off a story like that if I go that route.”

  “So, then what would you like me to do, Matt?” Dan said.

  I mulled it over briefly and said, “Go on, do the background check. It’s better than not knowing, I guess.”

  “I’ll get on it right away,” Dan said. “Give me your notes so I’ll have some place to start.”

  I gave Dan the information I’d gotten from Eva Bishop at city hall as well as the notes I’d made after Bea’s first visit with me. Dan tucked the notes away and then settled back into the soft folds of the leather sofa. His wry smile looked out of place.

  “You find humor in all this?” I said.

  Dan sat up straight. “Oh, no, Matt,” he said. “It’s not you. I’m just thinking about Laverne.”

  “Laverne?” I said. “Who is Laverne?”

  “You remember,” Dan said. “She was the clerk at Jacob’s Big and Tall Shop that I was interviewing after the shooting. Laverne Brewster.”

  “And you’re on a first name basis already?” I said.

  Dan released a long breath. “Okay, smart guy, I know you know so you can stop playing coy with me. Yes, I call her Laverne and yes, I am interested in her and yes, I am going to ask her out. You happy now?”

  “Actually, I am,” I said, almost laughing now.

  “Well, what’s so funny about it?” Dan said.

  “I’ve got police work to do,” I said to Dan.

  “Huh?”

  “That was your exact quote,” I said, “when I mentioned that you ought to try getting yourself domesticated. Remember?”

  Dan nodded reluctantly. “I remember,” he said. “Do you have to rub my nose in it? It just so happens that while I was interviewing Laverne, I found out that we have quite a few things in common. She likes the same things I like and we live in the same neighborhood, as it turns out. I guess it’s like they say, Matt. When the time is right, you’ll know it.”

  “In other words,” I said, “When your number’s up, it’s up.”

  “I wouldn’t have used those words,” Dan said.

  “See?” I said. “You don’t even have to go looking for it and it finds you. Just like it found me. I think they call it fate.”

  “Okay,” Dan said. “So now that it’s all out in the open, can we stop with the clever comments and the sly looks? I’m conceding. I like her and she likes me, all right?”

  “Sure,” I said. “You wanna bring her over to the house one of these nights and have dinner with Amy and me?”

  “That would be nice,” Dan said. “Real nice.” He rose from the sofa and grabbed the doorknob. Before he left, he turned to me. “I’ll let you know if anything turns up on your daughter, Matt.”

  “She’s not…” I started to say and just let it hang there, unfinished.

  Then I remembered the radio bulletin. “Hold on a second Dan,” I said. “I heard a strange bulletin on the radio just before I called you, something about a shooting at Olympia Stadium. You hear anything on that?”

  “Yeah,” Dan said. “One of the wrestlers got shot right there in the ring. Made one hell of a mess.”

  “Any connection between that shooting and the one in front of Jacob’s,” I said. “I mean it sounds like a similar M.O. and both victims were big bruisers and they both got their heads splattered off their shoulders.”

  “We’re looking into it,” Dan said. “But no one saw anything at the arena, except for the aftermath of the shooting. We have no witnesses who can say they saw or heard the shooter. We’re not sure where to start on this one.”

  “Strange, isn’t it?” I said.

  “What’s that?” Dan said.

  “The way the shooter did each of these guys,” I said. “Had to be from a distance and that would have to make this guy a pretty good shot, wouldn’t you say?”

  “What are you getting at, Matt?” Dan said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Just thinking out loud and wondering if the guy might have had any training with a rifle.”

  “Military?” Dan said.

  “It’s a place to start,” I said.

  “Thanks, Matt,” Dan said. “I’ll get back to you.”

  I was alone with my thoughts again and I didn’t feel up to calling Bea back in and sharing my finds with her. There were still too many unanswered questions I needed to resolve first. But right now I had to get out of this office. It was beginning to close in on me.

  On a hunch I decided to drive over to Clancy’s Gym on Alvarado. I knew the owner, Sean Kelly from my days on the force. He got the nickname Clancy one year during one of his St. Patrick’s Day celebrations and it stuck. We’d stayed in touch all these years and every now and then when I needed to unwind, I’d stop in at Clancy’s and work out.

  Sean was in the gym, watching two men sparring in the boxing ring. He was yelling to one of the men, a boxer wearing yellow trunks. “Keep that left up. Keep it up. You want Eddie to knock your block off?”

  Yellow Trunks raised his left glove in front of his face. Eddie caught that move and punched him in the ribs where his elbow had previously been. Yellow Trunks went down hard, his head landing near the edge of the ring where Sean had been standing.

  Sean leaned over and got face to face with Yellow Trunks. “And you have to protect your ribs, too,” Sean said, before standing up straight again and calling to Eddie, “That’s enough for today, Eddie. Hit the showers.”

  “Right, boss,” Eddie said, stepping out of the ring.

  Sean turned to walk away when he saw me and smiled. “Matt, my boy,” Sean said. “It’s good to see you. How long has it been?”

  “Too long,” I said, shaking Sean’s hand. “How have you been?”

  “Hangin’ in the
re,” Sean said. “Just hangin’ in there. What brings you to this neighborhood?”

  “Someplace we can sit?” I said.

  Sean led me into his office and closed the door. I sat in a chair across the desk from him. “So, how’s Gert?” I said, referring to Sean’s mother, who had to be in her eighties by now.

  “Mom passed away last spring,” Sean said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “She was a special lady.”

  Sean nodded and said nothing further on the matter. “How can I help you today, Matt?”

  “Have you heard anything about those two shootings?” I said. “The one on the boulevard and the other one at Olympia Stadium?”

  “Who hasn’t?” Sean said. “Everyone here’s nervous as a pregnant fox in a forest fire. I mean since both victims were big, muscular guys, everyone here’s on pins and needles wondering if they’ll be next.”

  “You know,” I said. “I didn’t make any connection between the two shootings right away but then it dawned on me that these guys were both the same size and build and that seemed to be the only common thread between them. And that made me think of you.”

  “Me?” Sean said. “I’d say I fall a little short of being anywhere near their size. Hell, on a good day, soaking wet, I only tip the scales at one-fifty. Hardly a body builder.”

  “Well, I wasn’t thinking of you in terms of a possible victim,” I said. “But this place you have here certainly turns out more than its share of big bruisers, and that got me to thinking.”

  “About what?” Sean said.

  “Sean,” I said. “Have you ever had anyone come to you looking to bulk themselves up but they just couldn’t cut it? You know, maybe someone that couldn’t keep up with the other guys, or maybe someone that the other guys might have taunted until he finally left?”

  “I see where you’re going, Matt,” Sean said. “You think the shooter might be one of my rejects?”