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

by Bill Bernico

  Benedetto thought about it for a moment before he decided to co-operate. “Timothy Cleary,” he said.

  Clay and I looked at each other and Benedetto knew that we knew who he was talking about.

  “Cleary was the head of an organization that, shall we say, specialized in small business loans,” Benedetto said, licking his lips and pretending to be absorbed in the contents of his drink.

  “I remember now,” I said. “That was, what, almost a year ago?”

  Benedetto nodded.

  “I think I get it,” I said. “A loan shark. And if I also recall correctly, that was, or still is for all I know, your area of expertise. Could it be that the competition was getting a little stiff?”

  “If he wasn’t,” Clay added, “He is now.” He started to laugh but very soon realized that we didn’t think it was funny. He tried to turn his laugh into a cough but failed miserably. “Sorry,” he offered, leaning back in his chair and sipping his ice tea.

  Benedetto rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to me. “In case you’re wondering,” he said, “I didn’t choose you at random, Mr. Cooper. I’ve been following your career, so to speak, since right after the Korean War.” He shifted his gaze to Clay and added, “And you were just a toddler then.”

  Clay looked surprised to know that a man like Anthony Benedetto had even known of his existence, let alone any personal details about him. He was both impressed and unnerved.

  “That’s right,” Benedetto said to Clay. “I’ve known about you, too, and from what I know, I can honestly say I’m glad to have you in on this. If you’re anything like your dad, you’ll both be able to pull this off and get me in and out alive.”

  “And that’s all you want us to do?” I said.

  “That’s it,” Benedetto said. “You want the job?”

  I looked at Clay and he nodded. I looked back at Benedetto. “We’re in,” I said, “but with a few stipulations. First, you must do exactly as we tell you. Some of it may not make sense at the time, but we may not always have time to explain our reasons, so just follow our instructions and you just may get out of this alive. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Benedetto said.

  “Second,” I said, “No one, and I mean no one is to know of any of these plans. Not your guardhouse man, not your servant, not your bodyguards—nobody.”

  “Agreed,” Benedetto said.

  “Third,” I said. “Clay and I are the only ones that you are to have any contact with the day of the hearing. You do all those things and we’ll help you. If not, good luck.”

  “I agree,” Benedetto said. “I don’t know which day it’ll be yet, but you can tell your contacts downtown and no cop is going to take me in. You tell them that I’ll surrender myself to them on my own terms. You tell that to your friend downtown, that Mr. Hollister you’ve been so chummy with all these years.”

  “I’ll let him know,” I said. “Well, if there’s nothing else, Clay and I will be going.”

  We got up and Clay extended his hand and then remembered that Benedetto didn’t shake hands. He quickly pulled it up and pretended that he was just smoothing his hair back. Benedetto showed us to the door and thanked us for our time. Clay slid behind the wheel and I slid in beside him. I turned to wave at Benedetto, but he’d already closed the door. Clay drove back down the driveway and stopped at the gate until the guard opened it again. The drive back to Hollywood was anything but silent. Clay had a million questions and I thought he might explode if he got any more enthusiastic.

  “Wow,” Clay said. “A top case right out of the chute. I knew I was going to like this business.”

  “Not so fast, there,” I said. “You have to take this case seriously and follow directions or you can sit this one out.”

  Clay’s face fell and he quickly checked my face to make sure I wasn’t kidding with him. I wasn’t.

  “Okay,” he said, “I can be serious. What do we do first?”

  “First,” I said, “We drive to the precinct and talk to Hollister—alone. If we’re going to let him in on this, we have to be sure he doesn’t let anyone else in with him. We tell him just the minimum to get what we need. The less he knows, the less anyone can get out of him.”

  “And then?” Clay said.

  “Then we check out the courthouse garage and do a run-through,” I said. “We have to know what’s around every corner before we get there. We don’t want any surprises.”

  “And then?” Clay said eagerly.

  “And then we wait,” I said. And wait we did—three days later I got the call. Benedetto was on the other end.

  “Cooper,” he said, “My sources tell me that today is the day that Harrison is sending the sheriff for me. Can you get here right away so we can get this thing over with?”

  “Sources?” I said. “What sources are those?”

  “It doesn’t matter, as far as you’re concerned,” Benedetto said. “They’re my sources and they’re accurate. You coming?”

  “That’s us you hear ringing your bell,” I said. “Give me twenty minutes.” I hung up, made a quick call to Hollister and then motioned to Clay. Two days earlier I’d arranged for the loan of the heating and plumbing truck and it was parked in the lot just outside my office. We hurried out of the office and down to the truck and drove back to Bel Air.

  It took Benedetto just ten seconds to open the door. I stood there with the plumber’s uniform and handed it to him. He disappeared into the bathroom and a minute later emerged looking the part of the plumber, cap and all. He got in the truck between Clay and me and didn’t say a word until we were out of the front gate and on our way downtown.

  Clay pulled into the courthouse garage and parked in one of the spaces marked ‘Visitor.’ The three of us got out and casually walked toward the elevator, Benedetto carrying a toolbox while Clay carried a clipboard and pen and wore a tool belt. All three of us were dressed as plumbers. The elevator door opened and Dan Hollister nodded. We all got in and Dan pressed the button for the fifth floor. We rode up in silence and soon the fifth floor bell sounded and the doors opened.

  A barrage of gunfire erupted and Benedetto fell to the floor, mortally wounded. Dan caught a round in his left shoulder while Clay and I managed to escape unscathed. As quickly as the gunman appeared, he disappeared around a corner and was gone before we knew what had happened. I knelt next to Benedetto. One shot had penetrated his stomach and another had gone straight through his neck. He gurgled a couple of blood bubbles through the hole and then lay silent. I turned my attention to Dan. His shoulder wound was also through and through. I pressed my hand to his wound and laid him on the elevator floor. Clay hit the stop button to hold the elevator in place and then looked back at me.

  “I’ll get some help,” he said and ran down the hallway.

  “Just lay quiet,” I told Dan. “Help is on the way.”

  A minute later the hall outside the elevator was filled with onlookers and courthouse workers. They parted like the red sea when several officers showed up, their guns drawn. One of them was an officer I recognized as having worked with Dan in the past. His name was Lou Pressman.

  “Did you see the shooter?” Pressman asked.

  “Just briefly,” I said. “It was over in seconds and he ran off around that corner.” I pointed to the path the shooter took. “He was wearing some kind of coverall, gray, I think, and a gray cap with a visor. Didn’t see his face.”

  Officer Pressman grabbed the walkie-talkie from his belt and pressed the button. “We have an officer down in the fifth floor elevator. Send an ambulance and a supervisor.” He returned the radio to his belt and knelt next to Hollister. “Captain,” he said. “How bad is it?”

  “I’ll live,” Hollister said. “Seal the building. I don’t want that guy to get out of here.”

  A minute or so later the ambulance attendants showed up with a gurney. They eased Dan onto it and he held up one finger. Dan looked at me. “Get the bastard,” he said before they wheeled him away. />
  Clay returned and joined me in the elevator. “No sign of him anywhere in the building,” he said. “The place is swarming with cops, though. How’s Captain Hollister?”

  “He should be okay,” I said. “Benedetto’s not doin’ so well, though.”

  Clay looked down at Benedetto’s body and winced. He looked at me. “What went wrong?” Clay said.

  “Word got out,” I said. “And it didn’t come from us so that means it was someone on the inside.”

  “A cop?” Clay said.

  “It’s beginning to look like it,” I said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Clay and I left the way we’d come and returned to the plumbing truck. I drove it back to the parking lot outside my office and then turned to Clay. “Follow me with your car. I have to take this truck back to the guy who loaned it to me.”

  I brought the truck back to my friend, Floyd Bartlett and thanked him. I gave him twenty dollars and told him I’d keep his name in my files in case we could ever help each other again. Clay drove us back to the office and we settled in, trying to figure out where the leak that got Benedetto killed might have come from.

  I handed Clay a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Write this down,” I said. “Floyd Bartlett, Dan Hollister, Anthony Benedetto, Virgil Harrison, you and me.”

  Clay stopped writing. “What exactly am I writing here?” he said.

  “I just want to see a list of the people who may have known what we were doing today,” I said. “Someone on that list may have told someone else, innocently or not, that Benedetto was coming to the courthouse today. Let’s start with me. I told Hollister and I told you. I didn’t tell Bartlett why we needed his truck, but he did know we had it. That may or may not mean anything, but make a note of it anyway. What about you? Who’d you tell?”

  “No one.” Clay said.

  “No one?” I said. “Not a single person?”

  “No one.” He repeated.

  “What about Harrison?” I said. “He would have informed Hollister but I’m not sure even Harrison knew we were involved. Then there’s Harrison’s secretary, if he told her.”

  “And whomever she might have told,” Clay added.

  “What about Benedetto?” I said. “Besides us, who else on his team might have known he was going to the courthouse today?”

  Clay shook his head. “I think he was too paranoid to tell any of his people,” he said. “Notice how he ducked down in the truck when we drove past the guard at his gate? No, I don’t think he told anyone but us.”

  “That leaves Hollister,” I said. “If that’s it, well, then it looks like there’s a rotten apple in the department; someone who’s on the take or in someone’s pocket. I’d better talk with Dan and see what he knows.”

  “He’s still in surgery,” Clay said. “Probably won’t be able to talk for at least a few more hours.”

  I took the legal pad from Clay and looked it over and then said, “We’re going to have to split up. I’ll talk to Hollister and you go see Harrison. Now don’t charge in and ruffle any feathers. Tread lightly and don’t get his back up.”

  Not to worry,” Clay said. I got an ‘A’ in Tact-101.”

  “Go,” I said.

  “I’m on it,” Clay said. “Meet you back here, when?”

  I looked at my watch. “Let’s call it three hours,” I said. Get going.”

  Clay grabbed his coat, slipped it over his shoulder holster and left without further comment. I followed a couple of minutes later.

  Clay drove back to the courthouse and took the elevator to the fifth floor. He found Harrison’s office and walked in. The D.A.’s secretary greeted him.

  “Hello, my name’s Clay Cooper. I’d like to see the district attorney,” Clay said.

  “That was quite a morning we had, wasn’t it?” she said.

  “It certainly was,” Clay replied. “That’s what I’d like to talk to Mr. Harrison about. Is he in?”

  “Let me check,” she said and disappeared through a door only to return a minute later. “If you could just wait a minute, he’ll be right with you. Please have a seat.”

  Clay sat in one of several stuffed chairs that lined the wall. He picked up a magazine and leafed through it, not really interested in its contents. Harrison’s door opened and the D.A. stuck his head out. He gestured to Clay.

  “Won’t you come in, Mr. Cooper?” he said.

  Clay laid the magazine down and walked into the inner office. Harrison invited him to sit opposite his desk and then sat in his own chair.

  “Now, Mr. Cooper,” Harrison started to say.

  Clay interrupted him. “First off, as my dad says, Mr. Cooper was his dad. Please, call me Clay.”

  “All right, Clay,” Harrison said. “I think I know what brought you here. Tragic events this morning, I know. We have every available man on this one.”

  “Mr. Harrison,” Clay began. “When you decided to bring Mr. Benedetto in for questioning, who else knew the date and the time for the meeting?”

  Harrison thought for a moment. “Are you asking if any of my people leaked information about this case?”

  “Indirectly, I guess I am,” Clay said. “Dad and I need to cover all the possibilities and we need to know who else knew about the meeting so we can work this out logically.”

  Harrison pursed his lips and sighed. “First off, Mr. Cooper,” he said, “my staff was hand-picked and I trust every one of them with my life.”

  So much for the friendly first name basis of our meeting.

  “Second,” Harrison said, “I sent sheriff’s deputies to Mr. Benedetto’s house to bring him in only to learn later that you and your father had taken him away.”

  Clay held up a palm. “Mr. Benedetto was coming in of his own free will and dad was hired to help him do that safely,” he said. “Mr. Benedetto was afraid he’d be assassinated before he could make it in here and that tells us that someone didn’t want him talking to you. You can see why we would need to question anyone involved with this case. You’re not the only one we’re talking to.”

  Harrison was at a loss for words and then said, “I can’t say any more until my investigation is completed, so if you will excuse me.” He stood and stared at Clay.

  Clay got up and thanked him for his time and felt Harrison’s eyes on his back all the way out of the office. Clay thanked the secretary and left, knowing where he might find me. He drove to the hospital and checked in with the reception desk to get Hollister’s room number. Then took the elevator to the third floor. Hollister’s room was in the middle of the hall and there was a uniformed officer standing guard outside of it. Clay told him who he was and asked if he’d let me know that he was here. The officer peeked inside and said something Clay couldn’t hear and then looked back at him, holding the door open as Clay entered.

  Hollister’s shoulder was bandaged and in a sling and he was reclining in the bed, while dad stood alongside him. I turned when Clay came into the room.

  “Just in time,” I said. “How’d it go with Harrison?”

  “Lip service,” Clay said. “Couple of canned responses and then a shutout. No surprise there.”

  I looked at Clay. “Did you find out who else knew about the meeting?”

  “He wouldn’t say any more than that,” Clay told him. “I think I struck a nerve with something I said. What did I miss here?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’ve been waiting myself and they just brought Dan in from recovery a few minutes ago.”

  I turned to Dan. “You feel up to a couple of questions?” I said.

  Dan nodded and then looked at his shoulder. “This is nothing. I’ve had worse. Turns out the bullet that hit me was the same one that went through Benedetto’s neck. Slowed it down a bit before it got to me but still went clean through.”

  “Okay,” I said. “After I came to see you about Benedetto turning himself in, did you share that information with anyone else?”

  Dan thought for a moment. “Ju
st Sergeant Hilliard.” He said. “I assigned him to watch the garage entrance at the courthouse. He may have assigned one of his officers to cover the opposite entrance.”

  Clay said, “Can you trust Hilliard?”

  Dan didn’t hesitate. “With my life,” he said. “He’s been on the force for nine years with a spotless record.”

  “Do you know the name of the officer he assigned to help him?” I said.

  “No, but I can find out,” Dan said. “Can you hand me that phone on the table?”

  I set the desk phone on the bed next to Dan and asked what number he wanted. He told me and I dialed it, handing him the handset.

  “Yes, this is Captain Hollister,” Dan said into the phone. “Put me through to Sergeant Hilliard.” He waited for the connection and then said, “Sergeant, this is Captain Hollister. Yes, I’ll be all right. I’ll be out of here in a couple of days. Tell me, who did you assign to help watch the courthouse garage? Yes. I see. Thank you. No, that’s all I need for now. Goodbye.”

  Dan hung up the phone and I returned it to the table alongside his bed.

  “Granger,” Dan said. “Officer Robert Granger. He’s one of our newest recruits. Finished near the top of his class at the academy. By all accounts, a model cop.”

  “It’s all we have to go on, Dan,” I said. “Do you have any problem with Clay and me following up on it and asking around?”

  “If you think it’ll get you any closer to the truth,” Dan said. “Go ahead, but take it easy. I don’t want to spook anyone into anything that’ll make this situation worse. I have to trust you on this one, Matt.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, “We’ll handle it like professionals.” I patted Dan’s good shoulder, gave Clay a look and then gestured toward the door. The door eased itself shut and the officer in the hall nodded as we left.

  “What do you…?” Clay began to say before I held a hand up.

  “Not here,” I said. “Wait ‘til we get in the car.

  We climbed into Clay’s car and I swiveled in my seat to face him. “It can only be from one of two sources,” I said. “Harrison and his staff or Hollister’s men.”