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

by Bill Bernico

  “Very well, Elliott,” Chris said. “Well, I uh...” She paused, not sure how to begin.

  “Take your time, Chris,” I said. “Find the right words and try not to leave anything out.”

  “I’m being harassed at work,” Chris said suddenly.

  “Harassed, like from upper management?” I said.

  “Not exactly,” Chris said. “It’s one guy in particular, Louie Beck, who works in my department in the warehouse where I work as a shipping clerk. He’s always making lewd remarks, telling me off-color jokes and even touching me inappropriately at times. He even suggested that we meet at a motel after work.”

  “And you aren’t encouraging any of this?” I said.

  Chris shook her head. “He’s a disgusting pig,” she said. “If I wanted to get involved with anyone, he wouldn’t even make the long list. I just want it to stop. What can I do, Elliott?”

  “Have you complained to your boss?” I said.

  “That’s just it,” Chris said. “Louie is kind of my boss.”

  “What do you mean, kind of?” I said.

  “He’s between me and the head of shipping,” Chris said. “The chain of command is me and my other workers, then Louie, then Mr. Carlson, the supervisor. Mr. Carlson told all of us early on that if we had any complaints that we should tell Louie and Louie would relay them to him. So you see, I’m in a bit of a bind and Louie knows it, so he has no incentive to stop harassing me.”

  “I see,” I said. “Who’s above Mr. Carlson?”

  “Just the owner, Herbert Dawson,” Chris said.

  “Then you must work at Dawson Industries,” I said.

  “You know Mr. Dawson?” she said.

  “Just by reputation,” I said. “I’ve never met him, but we do have a mutual friend who would introduce me if needed and if and when the time comes when you need to present your evidence, I’m sure I could arrange a meeting with Dawson for you.”

  “Oh, that would be the icing on the cake,” Chris said.

  Now, what you need is solid proof of your allegations,” I said. “Well, I think I can help with this one and if Louie is half the pig you say he is, this shouldn’t take more than a couple of days to get the goods on him.”

  “But what can you do, Elliott?” Chris said. “You can’t very well hide out in the warehouse with a camera, can you?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “Not exactly,” I said. “But if you’re game I can set you up with a wireless body cam that can catch Louie in the act. Then all you have to do is let Mr. Carlson see the video and Louie will be in deep trouble. And, in the event that Mr. Carlson is reluctant to do anything about Louie, you just have to mention that you’ll take the video to the owner, who I’m sure won’t want this kind of publicity for his company.”

  “That’s all there is to it?” Chris said. “Can you really do that?”

  I nodded. “The technology is there,” I said. “In fact, I have my van equipped with surveillance monitors that receive signals from whatever cameras I set up. Once I even had a tiny camera mounted on a model helicopter and I was able to operate it above the traffic so I could follow a car that might otherwise have eluded me.”

  “That would be super,” Chris said. “But where would you mount a camera on a person where it wouldn’t show?”

  I thought for a moment. “Do you wear glasses on the job, Chris?” I said.

  Chris nodded. “Safety glasses,” she said. “We all have to wear them in the warehouse, why?”

  “If you can bring me a pair of those safety glasses,” I said, “I can install a mini cam in the stem so you’d never even know it was there. It’ll broadcast to my van, which I’ll have parked somewhere near enough to the warehouse to pick up the transmission. From inside my van I can make a digital recording of whatever you see and hear.”

  Chris smiled. “Elliott,” she said, “You’ve given me the first glimmer of hope since this whole nightmare started. When can we do this?”

  “How soon can you get me a pair of those safety glasses?” I said.

  Chris glanced off somewhere in the room and then looked down at her purse. “I just remembered,” she said. “I have mine with me, here.” She handed me her safety glasses and I looked them over briefly.

  “Give me a day or less,” I said. “I’ll have the mini cam installed in these and get them back to you. Do you have other glasses you can use in the meantime?”

  “Sure,” Chris said. “There’s a whole box of these in the warehouse in case visitors come through. You can hang onto those as long as it take.”

  The waitress came back carrying two glasses of chocolate milk on a small tray. She set the two glasses in front of us. “Have you decided what you want yet?” she said.

  Chris waved her off. “Thanks,” she said. “Just the chocolate milk for me.”

  “That’ll do it for me, too, I guess,” I said.

  The waitress walked away, mumbling something about big time spenders. I guess there’s not much of a tip in two glasses of chocolate milk.

  Chris and I finished our drinks while I explained my rates and that I’d make up the standard contract for her to sign before I could start on her case. I asked if she could follow me back to my office so we could take care of that part of our business. She said she could and we slid out of the booth and left the coffee shop. I told her my office was in the same block and she agreed to walk with me while she left her car across the street from the coffee shop.

  Bud was still banging away on his computer when we walked into the office.

  I looked over at him. “Bud Burke,” I said. “This is Chris Ellis.”

  Bud looked up, saw the woman and stopped typing. He stood up and offered his hand. “Hello,” he said.

  “Hi,” Chris said shyly before following me to my desk. She sat opposite me while I made out our contract.

  Bud returned to his computer, hit a key and a sheet of paper rolled out of the printer. He pulled it from the printer and brought it over to where Chris Ellis was sitting. He handed her the paper and said, “Would you mind giving me your impression of a song I’ve been working on, Miss Ellis?”

  I looked up sharply at Bud. “Really, Bud?” I said. “We’re in the middle of a business transaction. Can’t this wait?”

  “No,” Chris said, “I don’t mind taking a look.” She glanced down at the lyrics sheet that Bud had printed out and stopped after reading just the title, Even When The Beer Wears Off You’ll Still Look Good To Me. She looked up at Bud. “Catchy title, I’ll give you that much.” She read the rest of the lyrics, giggling to herself as she came upon humorous lines within the song. “I like that line. I think I may have even heard that one myself a couple of times.” The lyrics read as follows:

  Even When The Beer Wears Off You’ll Still Look Good To Me

  My feet ached and my throat was dry. Undid my collar and I loosened my tie

  Pulled up a stool and I raised my glass. I tied one on and I did it fast

  I started drinkin’ and through my foam, I saw the one that I wanna take home

  I didn’t want to waste any time. I looked at you and used my favorite line

  Even when the beer wears off you’ll still look good to me

  The bar was dark and it was late when I asked you for a date

  I didn’t take the time to think that I had too much to drink

  I set my sights on a ten. I’d take two fives and do it again

  It’s gettin’ late, it’s a quarter to nine. I don’t give a damn about your sign

  Even when the beer wears off you’ll still look good to me

  I need a date and I’m losin’ sleep. I ain’t your average bar room creep

  I mean it gal, and this ain’t no line,but you sure look like a friend of mine

  You got a truly unforgettable face. I wish I could forget I’m in this place

  Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t lookin’ to fight. I just need some company tonight

  Even when the beer wears off, y
ou’ll still look good to me

  When she finished reading the entire page Chris handed the lyrics sheet back to Bud and let loose with a genuine laugh. “It’s clever,” she told Bud. “So you’re a songwriter, huh?”

  “More of a hobby,” Bud explained. “But it helps keep my mind sharp.”

  “I can see why,” Chris said.

  I finished filling out the contract and turned to Bud. “You finished with my client yet, or can I get back to business here?”

  “Oh, sure, Elliott,” Bud said. “Sorry.” He turned back to Chris. “It was really nice to meet you, Miss Ellis.”

  “Same here,” she said. “And good luck with your songwriting.”

  Bud shrugged. “I’m not really trying to promote them,” he said. “It’s just a hobby for me.”

  I finished with the contract, got Chris’s signature and retainer and told her I could have her modified safety glasses back to her sometime tomorrow. She thanked me again and we left the office together. I wanted to show her my surveillance van before she left.

  I slid the side door open to my van and helped her into it. “These,” I said, pointing to the half dozen monitors mounted on the side wall, “are the surveillance monitors that pick up the signals from the various cameras.” I slid open a drawer and pulled out my smallest camera and held it up. “Believe it or not, this little thing will install inside the stem of your glasses and the lens will point forward, so wherever you look and whatever you see is what I’ll see in here.”

  “Very clever,” Elliott,” Chris said. “I can’t wait to get this pest off my back for good.”

  “Won’t be long now,” I said, taking Chris’s hand and helping her down out of the van. “I’ll call when the glasses are done and we can meet one more time so I can show you the basics of how they work.”

  “I look forward to it, Elliott,” she said and handed me a business card with her name and cell phone number on it before she turned to leave.

  I selected what I needed from the van drawer to convert the glasses and took it all back to my third floor office. I laid it all out on my desk and pulled my small screwdriver set from another drawer. I had the glasses converted and working inside of three hours. The glasses were perfect. No one would be able to tell that these glasses actually held the working of a miniature recorder within them. I slipped them on my face, checked the pocket-sized monitor and walked around the office. I stopped in front of Bud’s desk, looked down at him and then at the monitor. His image was centered on the screen. “Say something,” I told Bud. “I want to check the sound levels.”

  Bud picked up his latest lyrics sheet and began reading from it. I made it through just two lines before I waved him off. “That’s good. Thanks,” I said and switched off the recorder. I took both pieces back to my desk, slipped the glasses off my face and hit the rewind button on the monitor unit. I hit the play button and watched as I retraced my steps through the office and listened to Bud’s recitation of his goofy song. I erased what I’d recorded and set the monitor down on the desk. “Perfect,” I said. “This ought to do the trick.”

  “Now this is the kind of exciting case you were looking for, isn’t it?” Bud said.

  “Not bad,” I said. “It gets the old juices flowing when things come together like this. I hope it gets Chris the results she’s looking for.” I checked my watch. It was just past four-thirty. Chris would be finished with work at five and I could still catch her before she went home and run through the simple operation of the glasses cam with her. I parked outside of Dawson Industries near the shipping department. I waited for Chris to come out and watched as she walked toward her car. When she pulled away from the curb, I followed at a respectable distance until she pulled into what I assumed was her driveway. I parked at the curb and watched as she exited her car and walked up the steps to her porch. I slipped out of my van and followed. I caught her before she stepped inside.

  “Chris,” I said, from behind her.

  Chris turned and looked a bit startled but relaxed when she saw it was me. “Elliott,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you anymore today. You gave me a bit of a scare.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I saw you come out of work and didn’t want to approach you on the street in case Louie Beck was watching. Can’t have him on his guard, no can we?”

  “That wouldn’t help me any,” Chris said, opening her front door. “Won’t you come in?”

  “I won’t stay long,” I said. “I just wanted to give you these glasses. I have them all converted over to my surveillance cam system. You can start using them tomorrow already. Here, try them on.” I handed her the glasses and she slipped them on.

  Chris stepped over to a mirror hanging on her living room wall and looked at her reflection. She turned her head both ways, looking at herself from the corners of her eyes. She turned back to me. “They look perfectly natural,” she said. “Can’t tell they’re anything but safety glasses.”

  “That’s the whole point,” I said, pulling the pocket monitor from my coat. I switched it on and held it so Chris could see the screen and then handed her the monitor. “Go ahead, walk around and take a look at the monitor.”

  Chris walked a small circle around her living room. She held the small monitor at eye level, glancing sideways at it as she walked. A broad smile played on her face as she turned to me. “Elliott,” she said. “You’re a genius.”

  “Just wear those at work tomorrow,” I said, “and let Louie do what he’d normally do. Just make sure you don’t do anything to encourage his advances because it’ll all be captured on the video.”

  “I don’t have to encourage that slimy little weasel,” Chris said. “He’ll be on me in the first hour tomorrow morning.”

  “But don’t be hesitant about engaging him in conversation,” I said. “Again, don’t you initiate it, but if he comes on to you, voice your protests and tell him to stop it so you’ll also have a record of that on video. If he tries to grope you or if he succeeds, make sure you’re looking right at his hands. The camera will capture his movements and then it’s all over for Louie except for the trip to the unemployment office.”

  “Thank you again, Elliott,” Chris said. “Where will you be tomorrow while I’m at work?”

  “I’ll be parked out in front on the street, about where you were this afternoon,” I said. “That should be close enough to pick up everything. Do you get a lunch break during the day where you can leave the factory grounds?”

  “I get an hour,” Chris said.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Just before noon, I’ll drive back to my office. Meet me there in the parking lot behind the building and we’ll watch the video together. If we have enough at that point, my part is done. If you still need more proof, we can continue the surveillance throughout the rest of the afternoon. I guess I’ll see you during your lunch hour then. Oh, and one more bit of advice. These glasses don’t have a power button. They’re always on, so don’t be trying them out in the bathroom or when you’re getting ready for bed. Otherwise we’ll end up with an X-rated video and you’ve already got enough troubles without that.”

  “Thanks for telling me that,” Chris said. She showed me to the door, thanked me for the seventh or eighth time that day and closed the door. I drove back to the office just long enough to say good night to Bud and lock up. I got home twenty minutes later.

  “How was your day?” Gloria said as I came through the kitchen door.

  I told her about my meetings with Chris and about her problems with Louie Beck.

  “Sounds like a real pig,” Gloria said as I hung my coat on the hook.

  “His days in the pig pen are numbered,” I said, and explained the solution I’d come up with.

  “I hope you nail him,” Gloria said. “Not just for Chris, but for women everywhere who have to put up with men in the workplace.”

  “Speaking of men in the workplace,” I said. “I had that little talk with Bud this morning and he’s totally cool wi
th it. In fact, he told me the job was cramping his style as far as his retirement plans.”

  “What will he do when I come back to work?” Gloria said.

  “Well,” I said, “Fishing for one. And get this, it turns out Bud is somewhat of a budding songwriter.” I told her about Bud’s two goofy country songs as best I could remember the lyrics.

  Gloria laughed. “Sounds like Bud has a great sense of humor,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that side of him before.”

  “Took me by surprise, too,” I said. “Who knew he had that kind of sense of humor?”

  We finished supper and the four of us retired to the living room. I sat on the sofa with the evening paper while Gloria watched her favorite show about remodeling houses. Matt sat in the overstuffed chair with some sort of electronic gadget, pressing buttons with his thumbs and moving his hands in a circle, as if steering a car. Olivia crawled up onto my lap with a drawing she’d just finished in crayon.

  “So, little lady,” I said. “You’ll be starting the first grade this fall. Think you’ll like it?”

  Olivia smiled and nodded. “Beth, Cassie and Debbie are all going to be in my class,” she said.

  “That’s great,” I said. “You’ll be learning to read and write and draw and play with the other kids. That should be a lot of fun.”

  “I already know how to read and write,” Olivia said, showing me her crayon drawing. She’d written her name on the bottom edge. Knowing it was her name helped me recognize it as such. “Of course you can,” I said. “But the teacher will show you how to write more than just your name. Before you know it, you’ll be writing all kinds of words. And soon you’ll be reading to me at night instead of me reading to you.”

  Olivia reached for her favorite picture book on the end table and opened it on my lap. She began reading the six or seven words that filled each page. I had to wonder if she was really reading the words, or if she’d memorized them from me having read this book to her dozens of times.

  “Very good,” I said when she got to the last page and closed the book. I hugged her and she clung to my neck like a scarf. She released her grip on me and slid off my lap, returning to her prone position with her crayons on the living room floor.