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

by Bill Bernico

  “Certainly,” Hamilton said, stepping back behind his desk again and clicking a few computer keys. Several seconds later he swiveled the screen toward us. “Steve Drake,” he said.

  “Is he a member, by chance?” I said.

  Hamilton glanced at the screen and then back at me. “No, he’s not,” he said. “Is that important?”

  “Probably not,” I said. “Just curious. And could you also look up someone named Dennis Carson and tell me if he’s also a caddy?”

  Hamilton checked his computer screen again and pressed a few keys before exclaiming, “Dennis Carson is a caddy here as well. Today he’s caddying for James Seefeldt. He owns a string of new car dealerships around Los Angeles.”

  Hamilton’s phone buzzed and he picked it up, listened for a few seconds and said, “Thank you, Miss Miller. When they get back here send them into my office immediately, would you?” He turned to Eric and said, “They’re both playing the seventeenth hole now. I imagine they’ll want to finish the eighteenth before they come in. Won’t you both have a seat?”

  “Sorry,” Eric said. “This can’t wait. If you would just point me in the direction of the seventeenth hole I’ll find them myself.”

  Hamilton turned toward his window and pointed. “See that row of evergreen trees on the left?” he said. “That’s the fairway leading to the seventeenth green. The tee for the eighteenth hole is just around the corner. You can take one of our golf carts. It’s quite a walk.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hamilton,” Eric said before we left the office and exited to the golf cart parking lot just outside the clubhouse.

  “I’ll drive,” I said. “In case you need to jump out in a hurry.” I slid behind the wheel, turned the key and stepped on the accelerator. The card sped noiselessly toward the seventeenth green. It took us just two minutes to reach the green. A caddy was just replacing the flag and a man in a yellow sweater and the gaudiest plaid pants I’d ever seen was walking toward the eighteenth tee. Eric hopped out of the golf cart and approached the man with no fashion sense.

  “Mr. Tinsdale?” Eric said, walking up to the man.

  “Yes,” Tinsdale said. “Who are you?”

  Eric flashed his badge and dropped it back into his pocket. “I’d like a word with you, Mr. Tinsdale.”

  I got out of the golf cart and kept one eye on Tinsdale’s caddy, who was carrying quite a few golf clubs in an expensive-looking leather bag. He walked up to me and gestured with his head toward the other two men. “What’s going on?” he said.

  “You’ll find out soon enough, Drake.” I said, stepping in front of the caddy, preventing him from getting any closer to Eric and Tinsdale. I was close enough now to see the vertical scratch in the middle of his chin.

  “Do I know you?” Drake said.

  “Not as well as you’re going to,” I said.

  Steve Drake tried to step around me. “Excuse me,” he said. “I have to bring Mr. Tinsdale his clubs.”

  I stepped in front of him again and pressed my hands to his shoulders. “It can wait,” I said. “Take a breather.”

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Drake said.

  I turned to see if Eric was making any progress with Tinsdale. From the corner of my eye I saw movement from Drake and spun around again just as he raised the golf club overhead. My hand swept up under my arm and came out with my .38 pointed at Drake’s head. “You forgot to yell, ‘fore’,” I said. “Drop it.”

  Eric turned to look our way just then and hurried over to where we stood. “Trouble, Elliott?” he said.

  I gestured toward Drake with my .38. “This guy’s pretty quick with a club,” I said. “Take a look at the club he just dropped. Notice anything strange on the face?”

  “The face?” Eric said, studying Steve Drake’s face.

  “Not his face,” I said. “The face of that club.” Eric still looked puzzled. “The face is the part of the club that comes in contact with the ball…or the side of someone’s head.”

  Eric picked up the club and looked at the business end. He turned to Drake and presented the club face for him to inspect. “You should have washed it down when you finished beating Dennis Carson to death with it.”

  Daniel Tinsdale walked up to us at that moment and turned to Drake. “What’s all this about beating someone to death with my club?” he said.

  Drake didn’t answer. He just looked at his surrounding, probably trying to figure out if there was anywhere he could run. There wasn’t.

  I turned to Tinsdale and held up the head of his club. “I recognized your Ping driver from the initials on the head,” I said. “This is the murder weapon, all right. No doubt about it. The question now is whether or not you were involved in this.”

  “Involved in what?” Tinsdale said.

  “In Dennis Carson’s murder,” I said.

  “And who is this Dennis Carson?” Tinsdale said.

  “Another caddy here at the club,” Eric said, snapping his handcuffs on Drake’s left hand and spinning him around to attach the other side. “He was supposed to be James Seefeldt’s caddy this morning.”

  Tinsdale looked puzzled. “I played the first nine holes with Jim this morning,” he said. “His caddy disappeared after that and I decided to finish the back nine without him.”

  “And did you see his caddy leave as well?” Eric said.

  “They both left together,” Tinsdale said. “I haven’t seen either of them since they left after the ninth hole.”

  “Would you come back to the clubhouse with us, Mr. Tinsdale?” Eric said.

  “Tinsdale looked in the direction of the eighteenth tee.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to skip that last hole,” Eric said, leading Drake back to the golf cart.

  Tinsdale sat up front, next to me while Eric sat next to Drake in the rear-facing seat, holding onto him as I drove the cart back to the clubhouse. The four of us made our way back top Hamilton’s office and closed the door behind us. Eric phoned the precinct to send a black and white to pick up Drake. It arrived about the same time Andy Reynolds was hauling Dennis Carson’s body away.

  Eric turned to Drake. “As much as I’d like to know why you did this,” he said, “I don’t want you slipping through the cracks of justice on a technicality. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Once the black and white arrived and took Steve Drake to the precinct, Eric and I left Hamilton’s office and walked back to my van. Eric’s car was parked nearby but before we parted, he turned to me and said, “So, what happens to your client now? Will they expel him from the country club for setting up cameras in the locker room?”

  “Looks like it,” I said. “If this had turned out to be just a simple case of theft, we could have kept it all out of the papers and saved their reputation. But now that one guy ended up murdered on the locker room floor, there ain’t no way the media is not going to sweep this under the rug. It’ll be all over the eleven o’clock news tonight.”

  “Too bad,” Eric said. “At least you didn’t get any grief over this whole incident.”

  “You think not?” I said. “Give it a couple of days and I’ll have club members crawling out of the woodwork trying to sue me for invasion of privacy.”

  “Are you worried?” Eric said.

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing on that video anyone can use,” I said. “The only two people I caught on video were the killer and his victim. The victim’s in no condition to sue and the killer will have his hands full just defending himself against a murder charge.”

  “Yes,” Eric said, “But you kept the cameras rolling even after I got there.”

  “But I gave you a copy of the video only up to the point of the murder,” I said. “I’ve already erased everything after that. I don’t think I need to worry about any lawsuits. My client may not pay me, since I didn’t find his thief or recover any of his belongings, so I guess it’s a wash. And unless you have anything else for me, I’m going to go home and spend some time with my f
amily.”

  “Go on, Elliott,” Eric said. “If I need anything else from you, I know where to reach you. Give Gloria a kiss for me.”

  I left the country club parking lot and headed home for the day. On the way home, a hand-painted sign caught my eye and I made a quick stop before going home. Thirty minutes later I pulled into my driveway, set my box down on the stoop and went inside. Gloria greeted me at the door and a few seconds later, both my kids ran up to me, their faces covered in grins.

  Olivia ran into my arms and hugged me. When she released my neck her hands went directly for my pockets. “What did you bring me, Daddy?” she said. In my left jacket pocket she found a mini candy bar and pulled it out. “For me?”

  I nodded. “All yours,” I said and set her down again.

  Matt looked at me. “Got another one, Dad?” he said, licking his lips.

  I patted my jacket down and turned to him, shaking my head. “Sorry,” I said. “Fresh out.”

  Matt looked disappointed and I let him go on feeling that way for a few seconds before I snapped my fingers. “Wait a minute,” I said. I turned and stepped toward the kitchen door and then stopped. I turned back to Matt. “I left a box of my paperwork on the porch. Go bring it in for me, will you Matt?”

  Matt looked puzzled but did as he was told. He opened the kitchen door, looked down at the box and then lifted it. Something moved inside and he turned toward me, his eyebrows furrowed.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Well,” I said. “Bring it in.”

  Matt carried the box in and set it on the kitchen floor. I pulled the folded flaps open and a German Shepherd puppy poked its head over the top, its tongue hanging from the side of its mouth. Matt looked at me.

  I nodded. “He’s all yours,” I said.

  Matt plucked the little brown and black ball of fur from the box and held him close to his chest. The puppy licked his face and yipped twice.

  I looked at Gloria now and noticed she was smiling. “You old softy,” she said.

  “Does he have a name?” Matt said.

  “The people selling him had a name tag on him when I got him,” I said. “But you can call him whatever you want.”

  “What name did he have?” Gloria said.

  “That’s kind of interesting,” I said. “The mother dog was named Yankee Doodle, so the kids at that house named this dog Randy.”

  “Yankee Doodle Randy?” Gloria said.

  “It’s the perfect name,” I explained. “This dog was born exactly seven weeks ago on my father’s birthday.”

  “I don’t get it,” Gloria said.

  “You remember Clay’s birthday, don’t you?” I said.

  Gloria thought for a moment. “July seventeenth, unless I’m mistaken. So what. I still don’t see the connection.”

  “And what famous person also had his birthday on July seventeenth?” I said.

  We’d had this conversation before so Gloria was prepared with her answers. “Let’s see,” she said. “Lucie Arnaz, Phyllis Diller, David Hasslehoff, Donald Sutherland and there was one more. Let me see.”

  I knew she was just jerking my chain, but before I could fill in the last name, she announced, “Jimmy Cagney. They all shared the same birthday as Clay. But what is the connection?”

  “What was the name of the movie that got Cagney his only Oscar?” I said.

  Gloria shrugged. “I give up,” she said. “Tell me.”

  I whistled part of the title song before Gloria said, “I know…Yankee Doodle Dandy.” Suddenly she got the connection and looked at me before groaning loudly. “That’s a stretch,” she said. “Even for you.”

  “Maybe we can just call the puppy Stretch,” I said.

  “Stretch, I like it,” Matt said.

  “Stretch it is,” I said and petted the puppy.

  116 - The Three Faces Of Steve

  I was just about to leave the house and head out for the office when my six-year-old daughter, Olivia stopped me at the kitchen door.

  “Daddy,” she said, tugging on my pants leg. “Can I take Stretch to school with me today for show and tell?”

  I crouched down to her level. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” I said. “Stretch is just a puppy and after you’re all done showing her and telling the other kids about her, where would she go? She could get lost or hurt. No, I think you’d better leave Stretch home, okay?”

  “Okay,” Olivia said, hanging her head and walking away.

  I exchanged glances with Gloria and left the house. Now that Olivia was in school for full days, Gloria came back to work as my partner after six years away. We had hired a retired cop, Bud Burke, to fill in while Gloria was playing the role of stay-at-home-mom, but he was just as glad to relinquish his seat and get down to some serious retirement activities. I usually spent the first half hour alone while Gloria was getting the kids off to school.

  I unlocked the office, hung my coat and hat on the rack and carried the morning paper over to my desk. Before I settled in with the paper, I stopped at my mini refrigerator and poured myself a glass of chocolate milk. I was never a coffee drinker, preferring instead for the cold, sweet taste of chocolate milk. I could never understand what anyone saw in the bitter taste of coffee.

  I made it to page three when my office door opened and a woman stepped in just far enough to be in, but still far enough from me if she decided to run. I smiled, stood and invited her in. She closed the door, deciding that I looked safe enough.

  “Hello,” I said. “My name’s Elliott Cooper, and you are?”

  “Anita Powers,” the woman said, shaking my extended hand.

  “Won’t you have a seat, Miss Powers?” I said.

  “Mrs. Powers,” Anita said.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Powers,” I said. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” We did have a coffee maker in the office for Gloria and for guests, if they wanted some.

  She waved me off. “No thank you, Mr. Cooper,” she said.

  “Well then,” I said, “How can I help you this morning?”

  Anita hesitated and glanced out the window before turning back to me. “Do you follow people for other people?” she said. “That is, if I wanted you to follow someone for me, is that something you do in your line of business?”

  “That’s a big part of what we do here at Cooper Investigations,” I said. “Who is it that you’d like me to follow?”

  Anita licked her lips. “My husband,” she said.

  I waited for her to offer more information. When she didn’t, I said, “And what is it I’d be looking for as I’m following your husband?”

  Anita squirmed in her chair before offering, “I think he’s cheating on me, Mr. Cooper, and I’d like to know for sure if there’s another woman in his life.”

  “Well, that’s straight forward enough,” I said. “So all you want me to do is to find out if he’s seeing another woman, correct? You don’t want me to confront him or get pictures or take notes?”

  “Could you get pictures?” Anita said. “I hadn’t thought of that. Pictures could come in handy if this ever goes to court.”

  I nodded. “I can get pictures,” I said. “I can get videos, audio recordings, names, addresses, phone numbers or anything else you think you would need.”

  “And what do you charge for your services, Mr. Cooper?” Anita said.

  “I get two hundred dollars a day plus expenses,” I said. “And fifty cents a mile for my vehicle. If all this is acceptable, I can have a contract drawn up and start as soon as you want me to.”

  “And would you appear in court as my witness?” Anita said.

  I shook my head. “That I can’t do,” I said. “Exposure like that would be detrimental to future business for me if too many people saw me or if I got my picture in the newspaper. You understand, of course. You’d be welcome to any photos, videos, recordings or notes that I’d gather during the course of my investigation. So, do you want to go forward with this, Mrs. Powers?”

  “Ye
s,” she said, more confidence in her voice now. “How soon can you start?”

  “Today, if you like,” I said.

  “Well,” Anita said, “Steve’s at work during the day, but could you start following him when he gets out of work? Today is Tuesday and Steve always tells me he likes to stop at the bar for a few drinks with the boys after work.”

  “And you don’t think that’s what he’s really doing?” I said.

  “That’s what I’d like you to find out, Mr. Cooper,” Anita said.

  I pulled a blank contract from my desk drawer, filled in Anita’s name and address and had her sign it. I gave her a copy and promised her I’d get right on it this afternoon.

  She thanked me and exhaled deeply. “I’m afraid of what you’ll find,” she said. “But I really have to know for my own peace of mind.”

  “You’re not alone,” I said. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.”

  Anita Powers folded her contract, stuffed it into her purse and left the office just as Gloria was coming in. They exchanged greeting as they passed each other.

  Gloria closed the door and walked over to where I was sitting. “Client?” she said.

  I nodded. “Cheating husband, blah, blah, blah,” I said. “I was hoping for something a little more exciting, like maybe some espionage, foreign intrigue, murder, maybe a little mayhem.”

  “That’s why they have video rental stores,” Gloria said. “Until you get your double-O status, following a cheating husband will have to do.”

  “Ever notice James Bond never has to follow some cheating husband?” I said.

  “Yes,” Gloria agreed. “That’s because Bond is usually the other man. He probably has some private detective following him. Who is it you’re supposed to follow?”

  I glanced down at the contract in my hand. “Some guy named Steve Powers,” I said. “That is, if I can stay awake during all this excitement.”

  “Would you like me to follow him?” Gloria said.

  I shook my head. “No, that’s all right,” I said. “I can manage. But just watch. As soon as I leave to tail this guy, you’ll get a call to find some kidnapped heir. There’ll probably be an exciting exchange of money for the heir and maybe even a shootout.”