by Bill Bernico
Clay had dropped a bombshell on me late in 1971 by telling me that he’d dropped out of college and wanted to join me in the investigation business. Originally I didn’t think it was such a good idea, but Clay was persistent and convinced me that I needed help running Cooper Investigations. We’d changed the name to Cooper and Son and Clay asked me to move in with him in his house in Glendale. It seemed like a good idea. He’d have me there to look after the place and make him an occasional dinner and I’d have a house to come home to that wasn’t empty or full of memories that weren’t always pleasant.
With the year coming to an end, Clay and I had been making plans to celebrate the new year with Dan Hollister and his wife, Laverne. Their son, Dean would also be joining us along with his new girlfriend, Veronica. We had reservations at an out-of-the-way restaurant in Pasadena, away from the Hollywood glamour crowd that was sure to be filling the nightclubs in town. But that celebration was still six weeks away and we had a business to run.
Shortly after Thanksgiving, I got a call from Paul Martin, the man who’d bought my house more than ten years ago. He called to ask about one of the walls in the house and wanted to confirm that it wasn’t a load-bearing wall before he tore it out to expand two of the rooms into one large space. I told him I wasn’t sure and that he’d better bring in a specialist.
“Can I ask a favor of you, Paul? I said before getting off the phone.
“Sure, Matt,” Paul said. “What is it?”
“I know this sounds a little strange,” I said, “but when you finish the remodeling job, could I have a look at the results?”
“Sure,” Paul said. “That would be fine. Besides, I’d kinda like to show off the new room and who better to show it to?”
“Thanks, Paul,” I said. “I haven’t been in that house since I moved out all those years ago. When do you think you’ll have it done?”
“If everything goes as planned and there are no snags, I plan to be finished before the end of the year,” Paul said. “But you know what they say about the best laid plans and all that.”
“Well,” I said, “have fun and try not to smack your thumb.”
“My thumb?” Paul said. “I’m not doing any of this. That’s why we have contractors. Whenever I mention a project around the house, Cecelia is quick to remind me about the one and only time I tried to do the project myself and that’s all it takes for me to grab the Yellow Pages and hire someone.”
“That’s probably a good idea in the long run,” I said. “It might cost you a little more, but then it only has to be done once.”
“Thanks, Matt,” Paul said. “I’ll call you when it’s finished. Goodbye.”
I hung up, finished my bowl of cereal and took the morning paper into the living room. Clay was already at the office going over the paperwork from his last case. I’d just sat down with the newspaper when the phone rang.
“Never fails,” I said, getting up and walking into the kitchen. I picked up the phone and said, “Hello,” in a voice that didn’t sound too cheerful.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” Dan said. “Did I wake you up?”
I looked at the kitchen clock. “Wake me up?” I said. “It’s almost ten. You think I sleep the day away waiting for your call?”
“Pardon me,” Dan said. “The reason I called is to ask if you wanted to catch a movie with me tonight. Laverne has something going on with one of those women’s groups she’s in. I don’t remember which one. Anyway, there’s a new Clint Eastwood movie at the Rialto or we could see the King Kong remake with Jeff Bridges at Grauman’s. Sound like something you’d like?”
“I can’t imagine King Kong being any better than it was in 1933,” I said. “How can you improve on something like that? How about if we see the Eastwood flick? What’s it called?”
“It’s another Dirty Harry movie called, hold on,” Dan said, grabbing the paper and looking for the ad. “It’s called The Enforcer and if it’s half as good as the original Dirty Harry or the sequel, Magnum Force, I’ll be entertained.”
“I know,” I said. “There’s something satisfying about seeing Harry blow away the bad guys like we wish we could have back in the day. Do you miss it, Dan? I mean the excitement and the thrill of the hunt. Do you sometimes wish you were still on the force?”
“Matt,” Dan said. “These last five years since I retired have been the best five years of my life. Laverne and I have had the time to travel and do things I couldn’t when I was tied down to that job. No, I don’t miss it one bit. If I need some excitement, I can get it vicariously through Harry Callahan or Dean.”
“How’s Dean doing?” I said. “What is he now, a captain?”
“Not quite,” Dan said. “He just finished three years as a patrolman and he’s studying for the sergeant’s exam next month.”
“So, he’s following in the old man’s footsteps, eh?” I said.
“He’ll probably make a better sergeant that I ever did,” Dan said. “So, getting back to the movie question, which show do you want to catch? The five-fifteen or the seven-thirty?”
“Let’s make it the five-fifteen,” I said. “Seven-thirty is an hour past your bedtime.”
“Funny, Matt,” Dan said. “Real funny. I’ll pick you up at quarter to five, and bring your walker. We can probably get better seats in the handicapped section.”
“Ha ha,” I said and hung up.
When Harry Callahan used the Law’s Rocket to blow the terrorist out of the Alcatraz guard tower at the end of The Enforcer, I had all I could do to keep from cheering out loud, but I managed to restrain myself long enough until Dan and I were back on the sidewalk.
“Now that’s how you handle terrorists,” I said. “No judge, no jury, no delays, just BLAM and it’s over.”
“There is something to be said for that approach,” Dan said. “No paperwork, either.”
“Coffee?” I said.
“Why not?” Dan said, walking with me back to his car.
We stopped in at our favorite coffee shop on Hollywood Boulevard and took a booth by the front window. The waitress brought two coffees and left the check lying between us. Now it would just be a test of willpower to see who could ignore it the longest.
“So what’s Clay doing tonight?” Dan said.
“He said he was going to catch supper at the diner and go home early,” I said. “He’s been pretty busy lately.”
“Doing what?” Dan said.
“He’s really got the business going full tilt,” I said. “He’s got a half-page ad in the Yellow Pages and he advertises on the sides of some of the city buses. I tell you, Dan, that kid has a business head on his shoulders. He’s going to turn that business into a gold mine if he keeps this up.”
“Good for him,” Dan said. “And what about you?”
“What about me?” I said.
“Are you seeing anyone special these days?” Dan said, a silly little smirk on his face.
“Special, no,” I said. “Ordinary, maybe a few.”
“Well, then tell me about these ordinary someones you’re seeing,” Dan said.
“You really are starved for gossip, aren’t you?” I said. “I’d expect that out of some old wash woman across the back yard clothesline, but not from you.”
“Forget I asked,” Dan said.
“Well, okay,” I said. “If you’re going to force it out of me. There is this one lady I’ve been seeing that’s kind of interesting.”
“Yes, yes,” Dan said, eager to hear more.
“Believe it or not,” I said, “she used to be an actress back in the forties.”
“Really?” Dan said, fascinated now. “Was she in any movies I might have seen?”
“Nothing with a screen credit at the end of the movie,” I said. “She never got a speaking part. She was an extra in quite a few of the movies, though.”
“Like which ones?” Dan said.
“Well,” I said. “Do you remember Our Vines Have Tender Grapes with Margaret
O’Brien and Edward G. Robinson?”
“Sure,” Dan said. “That was on TV last week. Which part did she play in that?”
“Remember the scene where the old Scandinavian farmer’s new barn burns down?” I said. “She was one of the onlookers in the background. She did a terrific job looking horrified.”
“I’ll have to look for her next time it’s on,” Dan said. “How long did she do that?”
“She got disillusioned with the movie business even before the forties were done,” I said. “She married another one of the extras and they raised three kids in the valley before he died of a heart attack. The kids are all grown and gone and she enjoys keeping company with me.”
“Keeping company,” Dan said, sarcastically. “Is that what they call it these days?”
I picked up the check just to avoid any further talk about with whom I was keeping company. “You ready to go?” I said.
Dan let out a small laugh. “I thought so. Matt, you old dog, you. Still got it, eh?”
I slid out of the booth and carried the check up to the register. Dan laid a quarter tip on the table and followed me outside again. He looked sideways at me without moving his head. I caught the look and just kept walking. Dan drove me home and dropped me at the curb.
“So,” Dan said, “about this gal you’re seeing.”
I walked toward my house and said over my shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Dan,” and went inside.
Three days later, during a remodeling job at Paul Martin’s house, workmen tearing apart a wall and came across something they hadn’t expected.
“Joe,” the man with the sledgehammer yelled from the basement. “Joe, you better come down here right away.”
“What is it, Ted?” Joe said, somewhat annoyed to have been called away from what he was doing upstairs.
Ted stood back a couple of paces and pointed. “There,” he said. “Between the walls.”
Joe stepped up to where Ted had been knocking holes in the wall and peered down into the space. “Whoa,” Joe said. “Someone call the cops.”
Two plain-clothes detectives showed up fifteen minutes later, accompanied by two uniformed patrolmen. They met Joe at the front door and he directed them down the basement steps over to where Ted had started his demolition duties.
“Right there,” Joe said, gesturing toward the new opening in the wall.
Detective George Brent switched on his flashlight and looked into the hole. He backed up and made room for his partner, Lloyd Miller to have a look. Miller backed up and looked at the workmen standing around.
“All right,” Miller said, “Who was it found the body?”
Ted Albright stepped up and said, “I did. I was knocking a hole in the wall and there he was, or there she was. Hard to tell when it’s just a skeleton.”
“Works done here for now,” Detective Brent told the workmen. “Give your names to the officers upstairs and let them know where you can be reached. Meanwhile, this is a crime scene. Nobody else comes down here.”
Brent turned to Miller. “Better get Andy down here with his crew,” he said, referring to Andy Reynolds, the county medical examiner. “Where’s the homeowner?”
Miller looked at the foreman, Joe Blake and said, “Who owns this house?”
Blake flipped a sheet over on his clipboard and read. “Martin, Paul Martin.”
“Is he here now?” Miller said.
“I don’t think so,” Blake said. “We told him it was going to be noisy with us pounding on walls and whatnot. He said he’d be back by noon.”
Brent looked at his watch. It was five minutes to twelve. “I guess we’ll wait for him,” he said, walking toward the basement steps. He called up to one of the patrolmen, who soon appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Yes sir?” the patrolman said.
“Let me know when the home owner gets home,” Brent said. “Tell him I’d like to talk to him as soon as he gets here.”
“Right away, sir,” the patrolman called back down to Brent.
Andy Reynolds arrived at ten minutes after twelve and brought a small lab crew of two with him. The patrolmen directed them down to the basement where they were greeted by Detectives Brent and Miller. They walked Reynolds over to the hole in the wall and shined the flashlight into the void. Reynolds looked in and then knelt next to the hole to get a better look at the skeletal remains lying there.
“What does it look like to you, Andy?” Brent said.
Andy gave Detective Brent a look of disbelief. “Are you serious?” Andy said. “From looking at that? I won’t be able to tell anything until I get it back to the morgue and run some tests. Meanwhile, can you ask one of the workmen to come over here and make this hole large enough for me to remove the body?”
Ted came back over with his sledgehammer and stood ready to do as Andy asked.
Andy pointed to a specific area of the wall that he wanted knocked out. “Stay in this area,” he told Ted. “I don’t want the area immediately around the body disturbed any more than it has been already. Just make me a hole about three feet by three feet. That should be big enough to get it out in one piece.”
At twelve fifteen Paul Martin returned home to a black and white patrol car, one detective’s car and an ambulance, all with their red lights rotating. We walked into the kitchen to find Detective Miller waiting for him.
“What is all this?” Martin said. “What’s with the ambulance and the police? Something happen to Cecilia?”
“As far as we know,” Miller said, “Mrs. Martin isn’t home.”
“Then what’s all this for?” Martin said.
“Mr. Martin,” the detective said, “workmen were tearing a basement wall apart and called us.”
“Why?” Martin said.
“Mr. Martin,” Miller said. “How long have you lived here?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Martin said.
“Please, just answer the question,” Miller said.
“Almost ten years,” Martin said. “No, wait. It was ten years last August. That’s right, it was 1966.”
“And have you changed any of the original structure in all that time, Mr. Martin?” Miller said.
“No,” Martin said. “This is the first time we’ve done any remodeling. Why?”
“Because when they opened the basement wall,” Miller said, “the workman found a human skeleton and called us. Do you have any idea how it could have gotten there, Mr. Martin?”
“None,” Paul said.
Forty-five minutes later Ted and another workman had the hole big enough for Andy and his crew to comfortably extricate the body and carry it to the ambulance.
Before he closed the ambulance’s rear door, Brent approached him. “When can you have something more for me?” Brent said.
Andy sighed. “Could be later today, maybe tomorrow by noon,” he said. “Depends on what we find and how long it takes to process it. I’ll let you know.”
Miller and Brent continued questioning Paul Martin in his kitchen. At one-thirty, Miller picked up the kitchen phone handset and dialed Andy Reynolds’ direct number. Andy answered on the fourth ring.
“Reynolds,” Andy said.
“Andy,” Detective Miller said. “I know you said you couldn’t tell me much before tonight or tomorrow, but off the record, in your professional opinion, about how long as this body been dead?”
“Don’t hold me to anything yet,” Andy said, “but best guess would be at least twenty-five to thirty years. Why?”
“Just checking a few things,” Miller said. “Thanks.”
Miller motioned Brent into the living room and said, “Andy says he thinks a good estimate for the time of death would be twenty-five to thirty years. I guess that lets Martin off the hook.”
Brent walked back into the kitchen and looked at Paul Martin. “Looks like you’re off the hook, Mr. Martin,” Brent said. “This particular body’s been dead since before you moved in here.”
Paul let out a
deep breath. “Well, that’s a relief,” he said. “Looks like you’d better check with the previous...” His sentence trailed off and he stared at a spot on the kitchen wall.
“What’s that you were saying, Mr. Martin,” Miller said. “Something about the previous...were you going to say owner?”
Martin nodded.
“And who did you buy the house from?” Brent said.
Martin broke his trance and looked at the detective. “From a man named Cooper,” he said. “Matt Cooper.”
Miller shot a look at Brent and then gestured with his chin. Brent walked out to the detective’s cruiser at the curb and picked up the microphone and called into the station. “Central, this is car nine, can you patch me through to the watch commander?”
“Car nine, I’ll patch you through,” the dispatcher said.
A moment later the car radio squawked again. “Car nine this is Captain Rogers, come in.”
“Captain,” Brent said, “We’ll be bringing in Matt Cooper for suspicion of murder.”
The captain cut in. “Car nine, did you say Matt Cooper? Over.”
“That’s right captain,” Brent said. “We’ve discovered a body in a house that Mr. Cooper once owned and the M.E. tells me the time frame fits.”
“If you have to bring him in,” the captain said, “be discreet and don’t make a big fuss. You hear me? And you bring him directly to me, do you read me?”
“Yes sir, captain,” Brent said. “Over and out.”
Brent returned to the kitchen and pulled Miller aside to tell him of the captain’s orders. Before they left, the two patrolmen strung yellow crime scene tape around the area near the hole in the basement wall. They also secured several strips at the top of the basement stairs and instructed Martin to stay out of the basement.
It was after three o’clock and I was home relaxing and watching an old black and white movie when Clay called. I suspect he called to check on me, but he used some other excuse that even I could see through.
“I should be home around five or five-fifteen,” Clay said. “You want to eat in or do you feel like going out for dinner?”
“I’d just as soon stay here,” I said. “There’s a movie on tonight that I’d like to see, if it all the same to you.”
