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

by Bill Bernico

  Margaret pointed her .22 revolver at me. “You,” she barked. “Take you gun out nice and easy and toss it here. Just use your thumb and forefinger.”

  I plucked the .38 from my shoulder holster and tossed it on the carpet at her feet.

  She turned her gun on Gloria and told her to do the same. Gloria did as she was told. Margaret now trained her gun on Jack. “You took out a restraining order on me?” she said, her teeth gritting. “How can you do that to me after all I’ve meant to you?”

  “What are you talking about?” Jack said. “I don’t even know you, except to see you in the club every night.”

  “But I love you,” Margaret said. “You had to know that.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Jack said. “You can’t just decide you want someone and expect them to feel the same way about you. It doesn’t work like that?”

  “Does it work like this?” Margaret said, and shot Jack once in the shoulder.

  Jack howled and grabbed the wound with his hand. Blood oozed out between his fingers. “What the hell’s wrong with you, lady?” he screamed.

  “Do I have your attention now, Jack?” Margaret said.

  “What do you want?” Jack said.

  “You,” Margaret said, and fired again, hitting Jack in almost the same spot, only this time the bullet passed through the hand that Jack was holding over his wound.

  Jack’s arm fell to his side, his hand now also bleeding. The fright seemed to drain out of Jack and was replaced by anger. He scowled at her now. “You crazy bitch,” he yelled. “You think you can make me love you just because you’re holding the gun. It’s never going to happen. Give it up.”

  “Never?” Margaret said, tears now running down her cheeks.

  “Never,” Jack said and braced himself when he saw Margaret pull the hammer back again.

  I sat there helpless, hoping she didn’t decide to take Gloria and me down in this rampage. She surprised all three of us and turned the gun on herself, pointing it at her temple. “I love you, Jack,” she said. “You have to know that.” Then she pulled the trigger and her head jerked to one side, splattering blood across Jack’s trailer wall.

  Gloria pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed 9-1-1. “We need an ambulance,” she told the operator, and gave her the address. “Send the police, too. We’ll stay right here until they arrive.” She snapped her phone closed again and stuck it back into her pocket.

  I retrieved my .38 and stuck it back under my arm. Gloria picked up her gun as well. I found a towel and wrapped it around Jack’s hand. I pressed another towel into the shoulder wound. Gloria and I laid Jack down on his couch. “It’s all over,” I told him. “Just lie still. An ambulance will be her shortly.”

  It took the ambulance fifteen minutes to find the trailer in this remote location. Dean’s cruiser pulled up behind it and the two sirens wound down as they stopped. I stepped out of the trailer and met Dean as he approached.

  “What happened here?” Dean said.

  “Margaret Lewis,” I said. “Gloria and I came up here to warn Jack about her and she showed up while we were talking with him. She was probably watching us and followed us up here. She took her anger and frustration out on him with a couple of shots and then killed herself.”

  “Senseless,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Just senseless.”

  The ambulance attendants took Jack out of the trailer on a stretcher and slid him into the back of their wagon. Dean leaned over the driver’s window. “Did you notify Andy Reynolds about this?” he said.

  The driver nodded. “He should be here any minute now,” he told Dean and then drove away, kicking up a cloud of dirt. The ambulance’s siren faded in the distance.

  Dean and I stepped up into the trailer. Dean studied the scene, trying to visualize the events of the last few minutes. I filled him in on how those events had unfolded. He pulled a notepad out and made a few preliminary notes before tucking it back into his pocket.

  Outside we heard another vehicle stopping in front of the trailer. It was Andy Reynolds, the county medical examiner with a wagon of his own. He stepped up into the trailer, took one look at the mess Margaret Lewis had made and shook his head. “Is she the victim?” Andy said, gesturing toward Margaret’s body.

  “In a way,” Dean said. “But no, she was the shooter. She was also her own last victim.”

  Andy could tell by looking at the woman that she was dead, but just to make it official, he knelt down and pressed two fingers into her neck. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find a pulse. He glanced at his watch, made a note of the official time of death and pronounced her dead.

  “Is she the only one?” Andy said.

  “There was another victim,” Dean told him. “He’s on his way to the hospital. I think he’ll make it.” He looked back down at the remains of Margaret Lewis. “Can you take her in your wagon?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Can you help me with the stretcher?”

  While Dean and Andy wrestled with the stretcher in this confined space, I took a cursory look around the inside of the trailer. I spotted a framed picture of Jack Holden, not in his stripper garb, but wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, leather work boots and a tool belt. Behind him was what looked like construction site. He looked happy. I wondered if he’d return to that trade when he recovered.

  And just to show how my twisted mind works, I also tried to imagine coroner Andy Reynolds as a stripper. If Billy Gibson had lived, I imagine he’d have given him a clever name like ‘The Body Snatcher’ and an appropriate costume to go with it.

  I’d seen enough and stepped outside. Andy was just closing the tailgate on his wagon. Dean was standing there talking to Gloria, who had come out earlier for some fresh air, if there is such a thing in Los Angeles.

  As I approached them, Gloria turned to me. “Promise me one thing, Elliott,” she said, gesturing toward Andy’s wagon.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “If I ever get like that Margaret woman,” she said. “Just shoot me, will you?”

  I glanced at Dean. He was smirking and trying to hide it. When he’d composed himself again he turned to me. “Are you two going to follow me back to my office?” he said.

  “You go on ahead,” I told him. “Gloria and I will be along in a few minutes.”

  Another black and white pulled up behind Dean’s cruiser and two uniforms got out. Dean instructed them to secure the scene while he was gone. Then he got into his car and drove back down the mountain.

  I walked Gloria back to my car and we slowly drove back down towards Hollywood. “What makes a woman turn into a stalker?” I said.

  Gloria turned to me. “Why are you asking me?” she said. “Just because I’m a woman?”

  “That’s as good a reason as any,” I said. “I was just looking for a female perspective on this whole thing.”

  Gloria gave the question some thought. “She was probably lonely and insecure,” Gloria said. “She may have snapped at one point, or she may have always been like that and just managed to suppress it. We’ll never know for sure now.”

  “I guess not,” I said, and pulled back onto Fuller Avenue. It took me another twelve minutes to make it to the twelfth precinct. After Dean had taken our statements, I dropped Gloria back in the parking lot behind our building and told her I’d see her in the morning.

  I drove over to Dad’s house. It was time for that father and son talk.

  67 - Room For One Less

  It had been nearly five months since my second heart attack. My recovery had been remarkable and it looked like I might be able to come back to work within the next week to ten days. Of course, that meant that Gloria would have to step down as the temporary help that she knew she was when Elliott had called her to come in and fill my spot temporarily. Gloria had done this once before when I had had my first heart attack two years ago.

  Elliott had mixed feeling about the coming events. On the one hand, it would be good to be working with me a
gain, but on the other hand, Gloria and he had become an item, so to speak, during her time back at Cooper Investigations. I imagined it would be a bit of an adjustment for Elliott without her there.

  My father, Matt Cooper, the founder of the private eye business that bore his name, had started Cooper Investigations in 1946, shortly after he had left the Los Angeles Police Department. I had joined him as a partner in 1971, and Elliott joined me in 2002, the year Dad died.

  I was sixty-two and had slowed down considerably. Elliott had been glad to take on the bulk of the responsibility and to let me coast, so to speak. He figured that I had earned it and in these past five months Gloria and he had managed to keep the business going and even show a decent profit at the end of the year. We knew, however, from the last time that we had kept Gloria on after I returned that Cooper Investigations couldn’t support three employees and that Gloria would have to step down when I returned.

  It was a crisp, cool April morning when Elliott walked into our building and took the elevator to the third floor. Today he was thirty minutes early. He had a few things to catch up on before Gloria was supposed to come in. It was his quiet time, a time to reflect and peacefully go over some records that he’d been neglecting. He opened the outer office door and stepped inside. We never lock that door, in case potential clients wanted to wait for any of us while we’re out of the office.

  Elliott unlocked the inner office door and was just dropping his keys back into his pocket when a heavy hand clamped down on his right shoulder and spun him around. Elliott was looking at two large men, both of whom were wearing black ski masks. The one who had grabbed his shoulder made an exaggerated motion of straightening Elliott’s tie with his left hand. When Elliott’s eyes went to the man’s left hand, the right hand jabbed Elliott’s stomach with enough force to crack walnuts. The breath came out of him all at once and he struggled to take in replacement air. Elliott sank to his knees, gasping for air.

  “Mr. Cooper,” the first man said. “I hope this will be the only time we have to visit you. I don’t want to have to come back here and give you another dose of this.” His clenched fist hit Elliott on the side of his head and he flopped over like a fish out of water. His vision was blurry and his ears were ringing, but he still managed to remain conscious.

  The man knelt next to Elliott and wrapped his fist around Elliott’s lapels and lifted Elliott’s face to his. “Get off the Griffith case and forget you ever met him,” he said, his hot breath nearly scorching Elliott’s nose hairs. “Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Cooper?” He released Elliott’s lapels and let him drop to the floor again.”

  “But I…” Elliott started to say, when the man’s partner stepped up and kicked Elliott in the ribs.

  “Off the Griffith case,” the second man echoed, “Or next time we won’t be so gentle.” His second kick cracked something and Elliott rolled over, blood oozing from his left ear.

  Without further comment the two men turned and walked out of the outer office and down the hall. Elliott didn’t even try to get up. He let darkness engulf him.

  When he was able to open his eyes again, the first thing Elliott saw was Gloria kneeling over him. Next to her he could make out the outline of a dark blue suit and an unrecognizable face. He thought he heard Gloria call the other man Dr. Hackett.

  “The ambulance is on its way,” Hackett said to Gloria.

  Elliott thought he heard Gloria’s voice quivering. “Is he going to be all right, Doctor,” she said.

  “I’ll know more when we get him to the hospital and I can run some more tests on him,” the doctor said. “I don’t want to move him any more until the ambulance gets here and we can stabilize his neck in a brace.”

  Gloria’s hand ran over Elliott’s forehead and smoothed his hair back. “Just lie still,” she said. “You’re going to be all right.” She didn’t know that for sure, but wanted to believe it. “Did you recognize the guy who did this to you, Elliott?”

  “Guys,” Elliott whispered. “There were two of them. They were both wearing ski masks. They told me to get off the Griffith case. I don’t know anyone named Griffith.”

  Gloria bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Elliott,” she said. “I was going to tell you about it this morning. I took a call last night after you’d already left for the night. Leo Griffith is the guy who hired us.”

  Elliott tried to lift his head, but Dr. Hackett made him lie flat again. “Don’t try to move,” Hackett said. “We can’t risk possible permanent damage.”

  I was walking toward the elevator when I saw two ambulance attendants with a rolling gurney inside it. I yelled for them to hold the elevator and stepped inside just before the doors closed. “What’s up, guys?” I said. “Picking up some business in the building?”

  The attendant closest to me nodded. “Yup,” he said. “Some guy on the third floor. That’s all I know.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. “I’m going to the third floor. I guess I can see for myself.”

  The car stopped and I let the two attendants get off first. They turned left and so did I. When they kept going, I started to panic, and when they turned into my office, I lost it. “Elliott,” I yelled. “Gloria. What’s going on here?”

  I hurried in behind the attendants and immediately saw Elliott lying on the floor in the outer office. His face was bruised and bloody. Gloria ran up to me and buried her head in my chest. “Clay,” she said, “it’s all my fault.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  “Two guys jumped Elliott this morning and did this to him,” she said.

  “Why?” I said.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Gloria said. “They mentioned something about getting off the Griffith case and then just beat Elliott senseless.”

  “So why is that your fault?” I said.

  “I spoke to a Mr. Griffith last night on the phone,” Gloria said. “And then he stopped in here and I agreed to take him on as a client. Elliott didn’t even know anything about it.”

  I was having trouble concentrating on what Gloria was telling me. I turned to the doctor. “How is he, doctor?” I said. “Is he going to be all right?”

  The doctor started and IV and hung the bottle from the metal arm sticking up from the gurney. “Like I told this young lady,” he said, “I’ll know more when I get him to the hospital and take some x-rays. Now if you will excuse me.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said, and followed the gurney back toward the elevator. I turned back to Gloria and said, “Lock up the office and come with me to the hospital.”

  Gloria locked the office door and followed us to the elevator. She turned to me and said, “I’m riding in the ambulance with Elliott. Can you drive there in your car?”

  I agreed that I would and when the elevator doors opened again, I hurried out the back door to the parking lot while Gloria stayed with the gurney and rode with Elliott to the hospital. Elliott was wheeled into the emergency room and placed on the examining table. Nurses cut away his jeans and shirt, exposing more bruises on his arms and legs. Dr. Hackett touched Elliott’s ribcage, causing Elliott to cry out.

  The doctor turned to his nurse and instructed her to get his patient in for x-rays immediately. He also told Gloria and me to wait outside while they checked Elliott over for any possible internal damage. Gloria and I retreated to the waiting room and sat on the fabric-covered chairs facing each other.

  “Tell me again about the client who wanted to hire you and Elliott,” I said.

  Gloria ran her fingers through her hair and grabbed onto her head, trying to recall the wording of the phone call she’d gotten last night. “Elliott had gone home shortly after six o’clock,” Gloria said. “I was just about finished entering the last of our records into the database when the phone rang. It was a man named Leo Griffith who said he needed our services and wanted to come right over. I told him we were just about ready to close up the office for the day and asked if we could talk with him first thing in the morning.
He said it was really important that he speak to us right away.”

  “And what did you tell him?” I said.

  “I told him I’d be in the office for another ten minutes,” Gloria said. “And that if he could get here before then, that I’d take down the preliminary information and discuss it with Elliott when he came in the next morning.”

  “And Griffith came in?” I asked.

  “He was there in less than two minutes,” Gloria said. “He was probably waiting outside in the parking lot when he called. Anyway, I let him in and told him that I’d give him five minutes to lay out what he expected us to do for him. He told me that he owed a man some money and that man had sent two thugs after him to collect.”

  “A loan shark?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Gloria said. “He wouldn’t say what the debt was for. He just wanted us to help get him out of town, somewhere safe.”

  “Couldn’t he have just called a taxi?” I said. “There’s always the bus, train, plane, car, you name it. He doesn’t need two private eyes to help him leave town, does he?”

  Gloria shrugged. “Beats me,” she said. “But he seemed genuinely scared. I asked him why he hadn’t just gone to the police with this.”

  “And?”

  “And he said they the two men originally told him that they had people inside the department,” she said. “And that they’d know if he talked.”

  “You think that’s true?” I said.

  “Who knows?” Gloria said. “The point is that he believed it and where else is he supposed to turn? He grabbed one of Elliott’s cards from his desk and stuffed it in his pocket before he left.”

  Thirty-five minutes had passed before Dr. Hackett came out to the waiting room. We stood to meet him in the hallway.

  “How is he, doctor?” I said.

  “He has two broken ribs and a concussion,” Dr. Hackett said. “The other bruises and cuts are all superficial. He’ll need a week or more to convalesce, but he should be fine after that. See to it that he doesn’t move around too much. Broken ribs are tricky. All we can do is tape them up and let them mend. That’s why it’s important that he refrain from physical activity during that whole week.”