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

by Bill Bernico

  Gloria tried to think back to the meals she’d shared with me since I’d met her all those years ago and had to concede that this was the first time we’d had French fries together.

  “I’ve had French fries plenty of times before today,” I said. “This is just the first time you’ve been with me when I did.”

  “And what about him?” Gloria said, pointing to the bum with the scruffy beard.

  “I’ve seen him before,” I said. “The first time I ate my lunch here I left the bag of French fry nubs on the bench. As I was walking away, I remembered that I had neglected to throw the bag into the trash can and turned around to do that when I saw this guy pick the bag up off the bench and empty all those nubs into his mouth. Then he threw the bag away for me.”

  “Well, isn’t he just a model of tidiness?” Gloria said. “It’s almost like feeding the pigeons. Once you do that, they come around whenever you sit on the bench, looking for that handout.” She leaned past me and looked at the bum. “No offense,” she added.

  “None taken,” the bum replied.

  Gloria sat back on the bench again and sipped her soda. “What about your burger?” she said. “You touch that, too.”

  “Most of the time,” I said, “I keep the paper wrapped around it and eat around the paper. Then I can eat the whole thing. If I forget and grab the burger without the paper, I eat it down to where my fingers touched and discard the last bite.”

  “What are you, Howard Hughes?” Gloria said. “Sounds like some kind of phobia if you ask me.”

  “But have you ever known me to be sick for even a day?” I said. “Think about it.”

  Gloria stopped chewing and thought. She had to agree that she had never seen me sick before. “And you credit that to not touching what goes into your mouth?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said, “but why take a chance?”

  Gloria rolled her eyes and took another bite from her burger. I finished the rest of my fries and crumpled up the bag, dropping it into the larger white bag that held the food. I turned to the bum beside me and brushed my hands together with a clapping sound. “Sorry,” I said. “That’s it.”

  Without any comment, the bum got up from the bench and walked back into the interior of the park, in search of another handout. Gloria and I sipped the last of our soda from the cardboard cups and threw our refuse in the trash container. “You ready?” I said.

  Gloria brushed crumbs off her lap and followed me back to our car. I’d no sooner sat behind the wheel when the red flag went up on the parking meter. “How’s that for timing?” I said.

  “I’m impressed,” Gloria said sarcastically. “Can we get back to the office now?”

  “You got something pressing waiting for you there?” I said.

  “Not really,” Gloria said. “I just want to get away from the park and back to the office so I can wash my hands. Suddenly I feel dirty.”

  “You got it,” I said. “Can we make one stop on the way?”

  “Where?” Gloria said.

  “They just came out with a new surveillance camera,” I said. “It’s supposed to be really tiny and I just want to have a look and see if any new uses for it occur to me.”

  “Sure,” Gloria said. “Where is this place?”

  “On Vine near Lexington,” I said.

  “Vine and Lexington,” Gloria said, trying to form a mental picture. “Yeah, I know the place. There’s a dollar store on that corner. I can go in there while you check out your James Bond toys.”

  “Perfect,” I said and drove west on Melrose. I pulled into the parking lot of the dollar store, let Gloria out and told her I’m come in and find her when I’d finished at the electronics store.

  I walked into the store and something immediately caught my eye. It was a large, colorful display demonstrating the many uses of their latest miniature cameras. I made a beeline for the display and began taking in all the different models. From the display card against the wall I could see pictures showing how a person could take advantage of the small size of this unit. The camera itself was no larger than the tip of my pinky finger. According to the stats listed on the display, the lens opening measured seven millimeters across and the whole unit was no more than that in depth. There were no wires connected to it. Instead it worked off an infra-red unit with a three and a half inch color screen about the size of a pack of cigarettes. The units were locked in a case behind a sliding glass door.

  As I stood there admiring modern technology, a salesman approached. “That’s quite something, isn’t it?” he said. “I mean, just when you think these things can’t get any smaller, they come out with this model.”

  “I can see where that could be very handy,” I said, handing the salesman one of my cards. “Especially in my line of work.”

  The salesman read the card and then looked up at me. “Mr. Cooper?” he asked.

  “In the flesh,” I said and extended my hand. He took it and gave it three shallow pumps before releasing it again.

  “Fred Waring,” he said. “And before you ask, no, I’m no relation to the orchestra leader.”

  “Orchestra leader?” I said. “I was going to ask if there was any connection to the blender guy.”

  “Same guy,” the salesman said. “Who’d have thought? Nope, no connection at all. That Waring died before I was born.” He looked at my card again. “No foolin’? You’re a real private eye?”

  “That I am,” I said. “Now, about these cameras.”

  “You could be just the guy I need,” Waring said.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  Waring looked around the room before turning his attention to me. “Mr. Cooper,” Waring said, “I’m just the manager here. The owner only stops in four times a year.”

  “Well, good for you,” I said. “Manager, huh?”

  “That’s right,” Waring said. “I’m sort of in trouble and I could use your services.”

  “How can you be sort of in trouble?” I said. “Either you’re in trouble or you’re not. Which is it?”

  “All right,” Waring admitted. “I’m in trouble. Can I hire you?”

  “To do what?” I said. “Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “Not here,” Waring said. “Can we talk in my office, Mr. Cooper?”

  “What about these cameras?” I said.

  Waring sighed. “They’ll still be here when we’re done talking,” Waring said. “Please, this is important.”

  “All right,” I said, with a sweeping hand in front of me. “Lead the way.”

  I followed Waring into a small office at the back of the store. He closed the door behind me and offered me a chair. I sat across from his desk and he perched his little butt on the front edge, facing me. He didn’t waste any time with small talk but instead got right to the heart of his problem. “Mr. Cooper,” Waring said, “I told you before that the owner, Wilson Halstead, only comes around four time a year. Well, that’s once each quarter to take inventory and check on my reports.”

  I nodded. “Something tells me that either your inventory or your reports are going to be off and you’re worried,” I said.

  “It’s the inventory,” Waring said. “I knew Mr. Halstead would be here pretty soon so I did a cursory inventory of my own ahead of time.”

  “And how much are you short?” I said.

  “Just about thirty-five hundred dollars,” Waring said, obvious worry playing on his face. “I think I have an idea about how it got that way, but I can’t call the police in on it.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Because Mr. Halstead might not think kindly of you as a manager if you can’t keep track of his inventory, right?”

  Waring nodded. “I have to get the stuff back without any publicity,” He said. “And it has to be in the next two weeks or I’ll be out of a job and Mr. Halstead will expect me to make good on the shortage. You see the fix I’m in?”

  “You mentioned that you thought you ha
d some idea of why you’re short,” I said. “Suppose you tell me about it. Do you know what merchandise is missing?”

  Waring nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “Half a dozen expensive laptops, twenty-two cell phones, three radio-controlled airplanes and fifteen of those little spy cameras you were looking at out there.”

  “That covers the ‘what’, how about the ‘who’?” I said. “Do you have a suspect in mind?”

  “Not just a suspect,” Waring said. “I’m sure I know who took that stuff.”

  “Have you confronted this person with your allegations?” I said.

  “That’s just it,” Waring said. “I can’t.”

  “And why not?” I said.

  “Because the guy who took all that stuff is Mr. Halstead’s nephew, Dewey,” Waring said. “And that leaves me in a pickle. Either Dewey figures I won’t go after him over the merchandise, or Mr. Halstead himself put Dewey up to it as kind of a test to see how well I keep an eye on things around here. Either way, I’m screwed if I don’t get that stuff back or get it paid for before Mr. Halstead gets here.”

  “And you want me to approach this Dewey fellow?” I said.

  Waring nodded. “It could mean my job, Mr. Cooper,” Waring said.

  “I get two hundred a day plus expenses,” I said. “You could run up quite a bill trying to recover the merchandise.”

  “I don’t care,” Waring said. “If I don’t get it back, well, I already told you that part. Besides, it just grates on me to think that little shit thinks he can get away with this.”

  “So, what did you want to do first?” I said.

  Waring paused in thought for a moment. “Could you kind of patrol the store? You know, like a house detective. Maybe you’d see Dewey taking something and you could confront him. That would leave me out of it.”

  I thought about the implications. “And what if it turns out that Halstead told his nephew to take all that stuff, like you said, to test you?”

  “Then at least I’d get the stuff back and keep my job,” Waring said. “So, what do you say? Will you do it?”

  “What does Dewey look like?” I said.

  Waring described Dewey Halstead to me right down to the close-cropped flattop haircut that made him look like Sergeant Carter from that old TV show, Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. “Then you’ll do it?” Waring said.

  Starting when?” I said.

  “As soon as possible,” Waring said.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “I can give you twice the manpower for the same money. My wife is across the street. She’s not only my partner, but she’s a damned good private eye as well. With the two of us patrolling the place, we’d be twice as likely to catch him in the act.”

  “Oh, Mr. Cooper,” Waring said, “That would be terrific. Would you like to go and get her and bring her back here?”

  “I’ll go get her,” I said, “but we’ll come into the store separately so as not to attract any attention. I’ll send her in first. You’ll be able to recognize her by the burgundy blazer and blue jeans. She’ll be the one who looks like she could beat you up.”

  Waring swallowed hard. “What’s her name?” he said.

  “Gloria,” I said. “Gloria Cooper. Just give us ten minutes and then watch for us coming back in the store.” I got up from the chair and pulled his office door open. I turned back to him as he was about to follow me out. “Better keep your distance, even now.”

  I left the store, got back in the car and drove across the street to the dollar store. I found Gloria browsing the aisle with the cheese puffs in the family sized bags. She was just reaching for one of the bags when she noticed me shaking my head.

  “What?” she said.

  “Take a look at where that stuff is made,” I said. “I think we’ve had this conversation before.”

  Gloria glanced at the label on the bag of cheese puffs. “Mexico,” she said. “So what? This isn’t Mexican water. How bad can it be?”

  “They still have to use their water to process the paste that’s extruded to make these puffs,” I said. “Think about it, if you can buy that whole big bag for a dollar and the store has a fifty per cent markup, they got it for fifty cents. That means that the distributor got it for a quarter and the factory probably spend ten cents making that bag of baked Mexican mush.”

  “Well,” Gloria said, “when you put it that way.” She carried the bag of cheese puffs up to counter.

  “You’re still going to buy that crap?” I said.

  “You don’t have to eat it,” Gloria said, plopping her dollar down on the counter, taking her receipt and walking out of the store.

  I caught up with her in the parking lot. “You feel like working today?” I said.

  “When today?” Gloria said, pulling the bag of cheese puffs open and reaching into the bag.

  “Right now,” I said. “Across the street at the electronics store.” I filled her in on the situation and told her I’d follow her in with a few minutes between us. I also told her not to talk to Fred Waring, the manager and I described him to her. “Just walk around and make believe you’re interested in the merchandise. Just keep your eyes peeled for Dewey.”

  “Dewey?” Gloria said. “Who’s Dewey?”

  I told her about the owner’s nephew and about Waring’s suspicions. I described Dewey to her and let her out of the car one store away from the electronics store. She walked to the entrance and then into the store, where she immediately began perusing up and down the aisles. I parked the car, waited two minutes and then re-entered the store. I could see Gloria at the far end of the store, picking up merchandise and examining it. I did the same on this end of the store, paying particular attention to those tiny spy cameras that had originally caught my attention.

  We slowly made the rounds, killing an hour. We each had to tell a store clerk that we were just looking and that we’d call on them if we needed any help. After an hour and a half, I decided to exit through the front door and walk around to the back of the building. There was a door that lead to the alley where new merchandise could be brought into the store. Merchandise could also be brought out through this same door and that’s what I was interested in.

  I rounded the corner and walked up the alley, reading the names of the stores on the doors that lead to the alley. Three doors down I found the electronics store’s door and tried the knob. It was locked. I looked around and found a large green dumpster standing up against the wall just down from the door. I lifted the lid and looked inside. It was almost empty, save for a couple of collapsed cardboard boxes and some Styrofoam pads. I let the lid drop again and then something caught my eye.

  I walked around to the other end of the dumpster and saw two legs protruding from behind the large metal container. I quickly pulled the dumpster away from the wall and looked down and a smaller, younger version of Gomer Pyle’s sergeant. Clutched to his chest was a radio controlled airplane, still in its original shrink wrapped package. This particular plane would never fly. It had a bullet hole through the fuselage. The bullet went through the packaged airplane and into the middle of the kid’s chest, soaking his shirt with blood. I left everything the way I’d found it, except for having dragged the dumpster away from the wall. I flipped open my cell phone and called Gloria inside the store. She answered on the second ring.

  “What’s up, Elliott?” she said.

  “Find Fred Waring, the manager and bring him around to the alley door right away,” I said. “When we hang up I’ll call the police.”

  “Right away,” Gloria said and closed her phone. She found the nearest clerk to her and asked him where she could find the manager. The clerk took her to Waring’s office and knocked on the door.

  “Mr. Waring,” the clerk said. “This lady wanted to see you.”

  “Thank you, Chad,” Waring said. “You can go back to the floor.

  Waring looked at Gloria, recognized her burgundy blazer and blue jeans and said, “Mrs. Cooper?”

  Gloria nodded. “T
hat’s right,” she said. “Elliott just called me from the alley behind the store. We have to get out there right away.”

  “What is it?” Waring said.

  Gloria shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I do know that Elliott’s calling the police as we speak. I think we’d better go see what’s happening in your alley.”

  Waring got up from his desk and lead Gloria out of his office to the store room. The alley door was on the north wall and he could hear knocking coming from outside. Waring opened the door and caught my eye. “What’s the matter?” he said.

  “Over here,” I said, leading him to the far side of the dumpster. I pointed down at the body. “I take it that’s Dewey.”

  Waring looked down at the kid’s body and nodded. “That’s him,” Waring said. “And that’s the model X43 radio controlled airplane I was telling you about. Looks like someone caught him in the act.”

  “Someone?” I said, looking at Waring.

  Waring caught the implication and held both palms up toward me. “No sir, not me,” he said adamantly. “You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I just found him like this and I have no idea how long he’s been dead. We’ll have to wait for the medical examiner to get here.”

  As if on cue, a siren sounded in the distance and within another minute, a black and white patrol car rolled into the alley, followed by Andy Walsh in his coroner’s wagon. The door to the patrol car opened and Lieutenant Eric Anderson stepped out. I greeted him and lead him to the body.

  “You touch anything?” Eric said.

  “Just the dumpster,” I said. “I lifted the lid on that end and when I came to this end and saw two feet sticking out I pulled the dumpster away from the wall. Aside from that, everything’s exactly as I found it.”

  Eric looked at Waring. “Who are you?” Eric said.

  “I’m Fred Waring,” Waring said.

  “Let’s see some I.D.,” Eric said, holding his hand out.

  Waring produced his wallet and opened it to his license.

  “Would you take it out of the wallet, please?” Eric said.