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

by Bill Bernico

  Thurman turned around, saw it was me and relaxed his tense shoulders. He let out a deep breath and said, “Cooper, I thought you quit the movie business. What are you doing back here so soon?”

  I noticed the chair next to Thurman was empty so I sat down and turned toward him. “You’ll be the fourth person here at the studio I’ve talked to. I’m here to ask you about…”

  “Give it up, Cooper,” Thurman said. “You cried wolf once and no one believed you. What makes you think you’ll have any better luck this time?”

  “Huh?” I said. “Oh, you’re still talking about your little cover-up from before. I get it. No, I’m not here for that. I’m looking for a missing boy who had a small part in Maurice Smith’s last movie in the valley. He suggested I see if maybe the kid found a part on your movie as well.” I pulled Jay Fuller’s picture out of my pocket, unfolded it and showed it to Thurman. “The boy’s name is Fuller, Jay Fuller. Have you seen him around your set or anywhere else, for that matter?”

  Thurman took the picture, gave a cursory glance and handed it back to me. “He’s not working on my picture,” he said. “It’s a simple picture with a simple premise and not that many parts, especially for a nobody like this kid.”

  “Well,” I said, “at least I can go to this kid’s father and tell him I tried. And you know, now that I’ve pretty much concluded my investigation into the kid’s disappearance, I’m free to devote all of my time to that other case. You remember, the one with the dead actor lying on your back lot street? The guy who miraculously rose from the dead when the cops arrived? That guy. And I intend to find out what happened to Stu—the real Stu, not that flunky you dressed up like him to make me look like a fool.”

  Thurman grabbed the picture back from me and looked at it a little closer this time. I could see he must have been an actor at one time himself, because he was putting on an Oscar-winning performance now for me.

  “You know,” Thurman said. “Upon closer examination, this kid does look a little familiar. He still hasn’t had a part in my film, but I do believe I know where you can find the kid, that is, if you’re not too busy still crying wolf.”

  “Really?” I said. “And just where would that be?”

  Thurman grabbed a clipboard, paged through its contents and said, “Look, Cooper, I’ll be wrapping this up for the day in about thirty minutes. Suppose you meet me right here after I’ve had a chance to see the rushes. Let’s call it an hour and a half.” Thurman checked his watch. “How does eight-thirty work for you?”

  “I’ll be here,” I said. “Just make sure you are.”

  I left the studio and drove to a coffee shop on Sunset. I ordered a glass of chocolate milk and a muffin. While I waited for my order I called the office and got Dad on the phone. “What are you still doing at the office?” I said. “Don’t we close at six?”

  “It’s not like I have someplace else to go and something else to do,” Dad said. “Where are you calling from?”

  “Some coffee shop on Sunset,” I said. “Did you and Gloria find out anything about Jay Fuller that we can use?”

  “Gloria hit a dead end in Beverly Hills at the Lane Bryant store,” Dad said. “I didn’t do much better with Jay’s two gal pals in Glendale or with the kid that put Jay up for a couple of nights, either. How about you?”

  I filled Dad in on my day and the people I’d seen. “I keep running into people who send me to someone else to check on Jay,” I said. “I seem to be running in circles. Either that’s the biggest conspiracy since the grassy knoll, or no one really does know anything about Fuller’s kid. But you know what? I’m supposed to meet with Roger Thurman again at eight-thirty, back at the studio. He claims he can steer me to the kid.”

  “And you believe him?” Dad said. “Sounds like a setup to me. Think about it, Elliott. He claims to know nothing and then the second you say you’re looking into Stu’s murder, suddenly his memory kicks in and he wants to see you. Sounds fishy to me.”

  “I thought the same thing,” I said. “I have a few tricks of my own up my sleeve and you can be a part of it, if you’re up to it.”

  “I’ll still be up to it long after you’ve retired,” Dad said. “Fill me in.”

  I laid out my plan for Dad and closed my phone. I opened it again and dialed Gloria at home.

  “Elliott,” she said when she picked up, “where are you? Do you know what time it is?”

  “Didn’t I just get you a new watch for your birthday?” I said. “Don’t tell me you lost it already.”

  “Smart ass,” she said. “Where are you and when are you coming home?”

  For the second time tonight I laid out my plan and told Gloria not to worry. I closed my phone just as the waitress brought my muffin and chocolate milk. I finished it as slow as I could and still had forty-five minutes to kill before my meeting with Thurman. I left anyway and drove back to the studio. I spotted Dad’s car parked half a block away and breathed a little easier. The guard at the gate let me in when I explained that I had a meeting scheduled with Roger Thurman.

  “My business associate should be along shortly,” I said. “Would you let him know where he can find Mr. Thurman and me?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Cooper,” the guard said.

  I drove onto the lot and parked in some out of the way place behind a prop warehouse. I soft-footed it back to the last place I’d seen Thurman and proceeded to check out my surroundings. There was an entire street of façades to choose from. I decided on the false front of the barber shop. It was closest and handiest for my purposes. It was just eight-fifteen when Dad showed up. I explained what I needed from him and gave him what we needed before I returned to the spot where I was to meet Thurman. Thurman was early by five minutes and I was there waiting for him.

  “All right,” I said, “I don’t want to waste anymore of your time or mine, so suppose you tell me where I can find Jay Fuller.”

  “To hell with the Fuller kid,” Thurman said. “Let’s talk about you and this obsession you have with one of my actors that you are convinced is dead.”

  “Cut the crap, Thurman,” I said. “This is one big Hollywood cover-up. You know it and I know it, so let’s talk facts, shall we? One, I know the man I saw lying in the street was dead. Two, you did what you needed to do to get me out of the way while you substituted your ringer in his place. No doubt that new actor will rise to the top quickly just by keeping his mouth shut, acting talents notwithstanding. Three, you’re afraid that I just may convince the police of what I saw and they’ll come back and topple this little empire you have going here.”

  “And four,” Thurman said, pulling a .32 automatic from his pocket, “You’re never going to be able to tell anyone about my little back lot switch. Stu needs company and you’re perfect for the part. Don’t you find it ironic that the phony back lot cemetery will be your final resting place? Too bad you never got your SAG card. I’m afraid there’ll be no royalties in your future. Goodbye, Mr. Cooper.”

  Thurman raised the gun just as the flood lights hone overhead, illuminating the entire back lot street set. The booming voice from the bullhorn bellowed, “Drop the gun, Thurman. Do it, NOW.”

  Thurman let the little automatic drop to the ground just before Dad stepped out from behind the barber shop façade holding his .38 in front of him. In his other hand he held a small black device. He stepped up to Thurman and pressed a button on the black box.

  Thurman’s voice radiated from Dad’s hand. “You’re never going to be able to tell anyone about my little back lot switch. Stu needs company and you’re perfect for the part. Don’t you find it ironic that the phony back lot cemetery will be your final resting place? Too bad you never got your SAG card. I’m afraid there’ll be no royalties in your future. Goodbye, Mr. Cooper.”

  Dad switched off the recorder just as the area flooded with swirling red lights. A black and white cruiser squealed to a stop a few feet behind Thurman. Two uniformed policemen jumped out of the patrol car and hurried up
behind Thurman. One of them grabbed Thurman’s hands and cuffed them behind Thurman’s back. They led him to the back seat of the police cruiser and pushed his head down below the door frame.

  The back window was rolled down and Thurman stuck his head out and yelled, “Cut!”

  The rest of the film crew stopped what they were doing and waited for further orders. One of the patrolmen opened the squad car door and pulled Thurman out, removing the cuffs from his hands. Thurman looked at the other cop and said, “Let’s take it from the point where you drive up and get out of the car.”

  The director turned to me. “Mr. Cooper,” he said, “if you expect to earn your pay, I suggest you act a little more afraid when I point the gun at you. Okay, everybody, let’s do it again. Places.”

  I backed up a few steps while Dad took his place behind the barber shop façade again. The flood lights overhead went out and Thurman yelled, “Speed, camera and…action.”

  As I stood there waiting to deliver my lines I looked in the canvas-back chair next to where Thurman was standing. Sitting there was Stu, the original actor who I’d found lying in the street. Hey, these guys are good at what they do.

  Gloria was already at the kitchen table when I got up the next morning to join her for breakfast. I told her about how I’d earned that extra three thousand dollars last night and she had to shake her head and laugh.

  “Come on,” she said, “are you trying to tell me that you couldn’t tell a fake dead guy from the real thing?”

  “Of course I could,” I said. “I had to stay in character the whole time as part of my contract with Thurman. That is, the real Thurman.”

  “What do you mean, the real Thurman?” Gloria said.

  “The guy I’d been talking to this whole time was an actor playing the part of Roger Thurman, the director,” I said. “Everything that happened that day on the back lot was being filmed, including me eating lunch behind a façade and hearing the shot, coming out to find the actor dead, all of it was part of the film.”

  “What about our search for Jay Fuller?” Gloria said. “Was that part of this movie, too?”

  “No,” I said. “That was real. He’s really still missing, but all the rest of it wasn’t. I was originally told I was being hired as a technical consultant for the film. Once I got there, the real Roger Thurman pulled me aside and explained his whole idea of a movie within a movie and that I’d have a substantial part in it. He explained that while he had promised me my regular rate of two hundred dollars a day as a consultant, he also told me that by agreeing to go along with his movie idea and act in it, that he’d pay me one thousand dollars a day. It didn’t take a lightning bolt for me to see the financial advantage of being an actor versus being a technical consultant.”

  Gloria mentally calculated the number of days I’d spent on this job and whistled. “You mean you’re bringing home five thousand dollars for your week’s work?” Gloria said.

  “So far,” I told her. “I’m not finished yet. They still want me to come back for two more days of close-ups and audio dubbing.”

  “Six grand,” Gloria said. “I think I can live with that. What about Clay?”

  “He didn’t know about it at first,” I said. “After I told Thurman that Dad might become a fly in the ointment, he agreed to give Dad a small part as well and pay him five hundred dollars for an hour’s work.”

  “Hey,” Gloria said. “I just realized that I’ll be seeing you both on the screen when the film comes out. Oh, I wish they’d had a part for me.”

  “We did all right,” I said. “It’ll pay the bills around here for quite a while.”

  We both finished our breakfast just as the front door opened and Mrs. Chandler, Matt’s nanny, walked in. “Good morning,” she said in a cheerful voice.

  “It certainly is,” Gloria said, shooting a quick glance at me. She turned to Mrs. Chandler and said, “We won’t be gone late today, Mrs. Chandler. “Elliott and I are knocking off early and we should be home by noon. Don’t worry, we’ll still pay you for the whole day.”

  Mrs. Chandler smiled. “Thank you both,” she said, just before Gloria and I left for the office.

  Dad was already at his desk when we walked in and hung up our jackets. Dad was all smiles but said nothing at first. I looked at Dad and said, “It’s all right. I told her everything.”

  Dad’s smile broke out into a full-face grin. “You should have seen us, Gloria,” he said. “We were a regular Cagney and Bogart team last night.”

  “Let’s not exaggerate, Dad,” I said. “For all we know our parts could be cut down to just a few minutes, if they don’t cut them out altogether.”

  “They wouldn’t dare,” Dad said. “Why, I’ll bet we…” Dad’s bragging was interrupted when the office door opened and Simon Fuller walked in, accompanied by a young man. Fuller walked up to me with a sheepish look on his face.

  “Mr. Cooper,” Fuller said, and then turned to Dad and Gloria. “Mr. Cooper, Mrs. Cooper, I’d like you to meet my son, Jay.” Fuller held his palm upward and gestured toward the young man on his left.

  Gloria pointed at the younger man. “But I thought…”

  “Darndest thing,” Fuller said. “His mother got another letter from Jay while I was down here looking for him and she called my cell phone. I’d have never found him had it not been for that letter. Jay wasn’t in Hollywood all this while.” Fuller turned toward Jay and said, “Suppose you explain it to them, son.”

  Jay looked embarrassed as he started to speak. “Well,” he said, “I originally came out here to try and get into the movies, only I found out that it’s not so easy, like people think it is. I answered an ad in the paper for movie work and went to an office on Hollywood Boulevard above a drug store. The guy who interviewed me said he had a part for me right off the bat and I thought, man this was too easy. Anyway, this guy writes down an address and tells me to go see this other man and I think I’m going on an audition so I hurry over there.”

  “I think I’ve heard this one before,” Dad said. “Don’t tell me, when you got to the address it was a photography studio that talked you into publicity photos.”

  Jay nodded. “How’d you know?”

  “The guy who put the ad in the paper for movie parts worked for the photography studio knowing that gullible and eager kids from all over would flock to him and all he had to do was steer them to the photographer and they’d split the take. As for the movie parts, all he had to do was get wind that a particular production was putting out a casting call for extras and send you over to them, once you’d already spent your money having pictures taken. How am I doing so far?”

  “Spot on,” Jay said. “It didn’t take me long to get disillusioned with the whole Hollywood scene, but by then I’d spent all my money. I didn’t even have enough for a bus ride home.”

  Dad smiled. “So you did what the other ninety-nine percent of the actor wannabes did and found a real job parking cars or waiting tables.”

  “Or panhandling,” Jay offered. “I was feeling lower than a doorstop after two weeks on the street and nothing to show for it all. The third week I took a bus down to San Pedro and answered an ad for manual labor at the shipyards. I figured it would take me three or four weeks to earn enough to get back to Idaho, but you know what? When that time came, I discovered that I actually enjoyed the work I was doing and decided to stay. I’m making better money than I ever could have in the movie business.”

  “Well,” Dad said, “If all you lost was the money you paid the photographer, I’d say you didn’t come out of all this in too bad of shape.”

  “There’s a funny part to all this, believe it or not,” Jay said.

  Simon Fuller turned to his son. “There is?” he said. “And what would that be?”

  Jay recalled his experience with the photographer. “After I’d spent my money on the photographs, the proof sheet and the composites,” he said.

  “Composites?” Gloria said. “What are those?”


  “They’re an eight by eleven sheet with one big head shot on the front and four smaller action shots on the back,” Jay explained. “Along with your name, phone number and agent’s name and the age range that you could be considered for. Anyway, the funny part was that after pounding the streets with my composites, looking for movie work, I eventually wore holes in the soles of my shoes. I guess the money for the composites wasn’t totally wasted, because I folded them up and stuffed them into my shoes to keep my socks from sticking out those holes.”

  We all had a good laugh at that explanation, including Simon Fuller.

  I turned to Fuller. “I guess this means you won’t be needing our services any longer,” I said.

  Fuller shook his head. “I guess not, Mr. Cooper,” he said. “But I want to thank you all for the effort you put in on this case. How much do I owe you for your services?”

  I gave Fuller the amount and he wrote out a check and handed it to me. “Thanks again,” he said, turning his son toward the door and walking out.

  I held the check up, snapped the paper from both ends and announced, “Well, ladies and gentlemen, dinner is on me tonight.”

  “Can you make that dinner and a movie?” Dad said.

  I winced. “Don’t mention movies to me again. I’ve had enough of movies to last me a lifetime.”

  I gave Gloria a hug, opened one arm and drew Dad in with us. Life was good.

  84 - Auction

  I sat poised at my computer keyboard, ready to enter my bid for the acoustic guitar that was being auctioned on one of those online auction sites. I wanted to wait until just before the clock ran out to enter my bid so that I wouldn’t be outbid by one of the thousands of other bidders. I’d already signed into the site with my name, Clay Cooper, and my password, which was Marlowe. What can I say, I’m a Raymond Chandler fan.

  The clock showed that there were less than thirty seconds remaining before the end of this auction. I typed in my bid and clicked submit. The auction ended a few seconds later and I was now the proud owner of the guitar of my dreams. All I had to do now was e-mail the seller, ask for his address so I could send him a check and tell him where to send the guitar to me.