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

by Bill Bernico

  I’d have thought from all the time these two spent together, that The Lone Ranger, whose speech was impeccable, would take his faithful Indian companion aside every now and then and drill a few prepositions and adverbs into him. Could have saved the poor devil a beating or two along the trail.

  Sidekicks weren’t limited to humans. No sir. The hero’s horse even had to be better looking than the sidekick’s mount. The Lone Ranger had a white stallion. Gene Autry had a beautiful Palomino. The Cisco Kid had that neat pinto. Wild Bill Hickok rode that wonderful Appaloosa. The sidekicks usually shared that same drab, plain, garden-variety, motor pool brown mare.

  Sidekicks are valuable to have around. They take the blame when things go wrong. They make the main character look good under almost any circumstance and they work dirt-cheap.

  I gotta get me a sidekick.

  I pulled up in front of the Powers house and regretted having wasted all that time on the way over here thinking about sidekicks when I should have been thinking about what I was going to tell Anita Powers about her husband who, like Tarzan during rush hour, swung both ways.

  I walked up to the front door and raised my knuckles to knock when I heard voices coming from inside. I held off knocking and stepped to a side window and peeked in. I recognized Anita Powers, but had no idea who the other woman was. The two of them were sitting on the living room sofa. Anita was drinking tea or coffee from a dainty cup with a matching saucer. The other woman was drinking beer straight from the bottle.

  The second woman had short, blonde hair and looked to be in her mid-thirties and wore a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that had a saying that I wanted to remember when I was finished here. It said, “There, their, they’re not the same.” Obviously a nod to grammar and spelling fans. She wore what looked like men’s work boots. I didn’t see a purse anywhere.

  I felt uneasy about looking in on them and decided to leave. Before I turned to go, I took one last look and noticed that the blonde woman had her hand on Anita’s thigh and was rubbing it back and forth. The funny part, as far as I was concerned, was that Anita did nothing to stop the advances from the blonde. She simply set her cup and saucer on the coffee table and wrapped one of her own hands behind Blondie’s head and pulled her close to her face. The two of them kissed a kiss that didn’t look anything like the kiss Aunt Martha gave Beaver and Wally before she got back on the bus and went home after her visit with the Cleavers.

  My eyes got wide and my mouth went dry. What kind of screwed up family had I gotten involved with? I hurried back to my car, avoiding any more windows, and drove back to the office. I knew exactly what I was going to tell Anita Powers now when I saw her—the truth. Then I’d let the two of them sort this mess out on their own. I wanted to get back, no, needed to get back to the normal environment of my office where I could be near my wife and assure myself that everything was all right.

  It was nearly five thirty and I was all set to give up on Gloria returning to the office when my phone rang. Speak of the devil. It was Gloria calling from her car.

  “Elliott,” she said. “I finished my meeting in Pasadena and remembered I still had to pick Olivia up from school, just in case you’re wondering what happened to me.”

  “I figured as much,” I told her. “Anything come of the meeting?”

  “Not really,” she said. “I think this woman just wanted to feel me out about private detective work in general and see what we charge. She told me she’d call, but I doubt I’ll hear anything further from her.”

  “Well, then,” I said, “there’s no reason for me to stick around here. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

  I parked the van in the driveway and came in through the kitchen door. Gloria sat in the living room with Olivia and Matt on either side of her, watching the evening news. Olivia jumped off the sofa and ran for me as I entered.

  “Daddy,” she squealed and leapt into my arms.

  I gave her a hug and a kiss and set her back down on the floor. Gloria and Matt stayed where they were and let me come to them. I bent down and kissed Gloria and then ran my hand through Matt’s shaggy hair. He pulled away and tried to straighten his hair out with his fingers.

  “How’d your case go today, Elliott?” Gloria said.

  I opened my mouth to speak and then looked at Matt and Olivia and decided it could wait until Gloria and I were alone. “Okay,” I said. “What’s for supper?”

  After Gloria put Olivia and Matt on the school bus the following morning, we decided to ride in to work together. If I needed the van, I could always have Gloria drive me back home to get it.

  “All right,” Gloria said. “Now would you like to fill me in on how your case went yesterday? You usually tell me every little detail but I noticed you held back last night.”

  “I didn’t want to discuss the case in front of the kids,” I said.

  “I figured as much,” Gloria said. “Come on, give.”

  I told her what I’d discovered in the bar as well as what I’d witnessed at the Powers house afterwards.

  Gloria turned in her seat to face me as I drove on to the office. “Really?’ she said. “If neither one of them has the right equipment for the other, why’d they get married in the first place?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “I suppose you’ll want to grill me when I get back from seeing Anita Powers this morning.”

  “You bet I do,” Gloria said. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall when you talk to her.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d want to come along with me for this interview,” I said.

  Gloria smiled broadly. “Think it would be all right with Anita?” she said.

  “Why not?” I said. “We’re a team and she doesn’t know that I know about her preferences and I’m surely not going to let on that I know, either. I’m just going to tell her what I saw at the bar and leave it at that.”

  “Even Robert Ripley wouldn’t believe this one,” Gloria said. “What time are you meeting with her?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t set it up yet. I’ll call her from the office.”

  Gloria turned back in her seat and watched the pedestrians on the sidewalk. “Boy,” she said, “if only we could write our own book about all the people we meet in the course of our job.”

  “Well,” I said, “When we retire from this business and turn it over to Matt, we can always fall back on our client database. I’m sure we’d have enough material for a dozen books.” I tried out my best Dragnet narrator voice. “The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

  “Better stick to detecting for now, Elliott,” Gloria said. “I don’t see a career in voiceovers in your future.”

  Back in the office, I sat behind my desk and dialed Anita Powers’ number. I got her on the second ring. “Mrs. Powers,” I said. “It’s Elliott Cooper from Cooper Investigations. I was wondering if I might meet with you this morning to discuss my findings with you.”

  “Already?” Anita said. “That was fast. What have you found out?”

  “I think it would be better if we spoke in person,” I said.

  “You’re probably right,” Anita said. “Would you like to come here or should I come to your office?”

  “I can come to your house,” I said. “Steve’s at work this morning, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is,” Anita told me. “How does half an hour from now work for you?”

  “I’ll be there,” I said and thanked her before hanging up.

  Gloria rose from her desk. “Shall we?” she said, gesturing toward the office door.

  “You’re not too anxious to get the dirt, are you?” I said.

  “I just want to see her face when you tell her about her husband,” Gloria said. “Remember, I’ve been out of the loop for the last six years and I’m hungry for something exciting.”

  I got out of my chair and joined Gloria at the office door. “Well, then,” I said. “Let’s not keep
you waiting another minute.”

  We got into Gloria’s sedan and drove to the Powers house. Anita seemed puzzled to see the two of us standing on her stoop. “Anita Powers,” I said, “I’d like you to meet my partner and wife, Gloria Cooper. Gloria, this is Anita Powers.”

  Anita Powers shook Gloria’s hand and invited us both inside. “Won’t you have a seat in the living room?” she said. “Can I get either of you anything to drink?”

  We both waved her off, thanking her just the same, and sat on the sofa. Anita sat across from us in an overstuffed easy chair. She got right to the heart of our visit. “So, Mr. Cooper,” she said. “Did you follow Steve?”

  I nodded. “I did,” I said. “I followed him into a bar after work and it’s like he told you. He was having a drink with the boys, all right. There is no other woman.” I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I detected the slightest bit of disappointment in Anita’s face.

  “So he’s not cheating on me?” Anita said.

  I hesitated momentarily, exchanging glances with Gloria before turning back to Anita. “That’s not exactly what I said,” I told her. “I said there was no other woman in his life as far as I could tell.”

  “But if there’s n other woman,” Anita said, “then that means he’s not cheating on me, unless…” She let her sentence trail off and got a blank look on her face. She looked at me. “Unless it’s not a woman he’s cheating on me with.”

  I said nothing and that told Anita what she wanted to know. “Are you kidding me?” she said. “Steve is a…?”

  “It looks like it,” I said.

  “And you witnesses this yourself?” Anita said.

  “Saw it with my own baby blues,” I said. “Steve and another man were in a booth in the back of the bar, making out. Sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

  I thought she was going to cry but instead Anita Powers threw her head back and let out with a loud laugh. She barked and then wheezed as her laughter trailed off.

  “Did we miss something, Mrs. Powers?” Gloria said. “Why is this funny?”

  Anita straightened up in her chair and put on her solemn face. “Because I can finally get the divorce I’ve wanted for so long and Steve won’t contest it,” she said. “He couldn’t. He wouldn’t want any of this to come out at the divorce hearing. I can ask for whatever I want and he’ll have to give it to me. Thank you, Mr. Cooper.”

  “You’re welcome, I guess,” I said, puzzled somewhat. “If you’ve wanted a divorce for some time now why haven’t you filed for one by now?”

  “It’s complicated,” Anita said.

  “I’ll say,” I said without thinking first.

  “Excuse me?” Anita said.

  “I mean, I’ll say whatever you want me to say in my report, as long as it’s true,” I told her. “Did you need anything else from me, Mrs. Powers?”

  “No,” she said. “That will do very nicely, thank you. I’ll make sure I get a check in the mail to you first thing tomorrow.”

  Gloria and I got up to leave but before we returned to our car, Gloria turned back to face Anita one more time. She laid a hand on Anita’s shoulder. “I’m sorry this didn’t all work out for you,” Gloria said, referring to Anita’s failed marriage.

  “Oh, but it did,” Anita said. “It worked out perfectly. Good day.” She closed the door and even as Gloria and I were walking back to our car, we could hear Anita’s guttural laugh fill the living room again.

  “Another day, another two hundred bucks,” I said.

  “And one hell of a story,” Gloria said. “Don’t go back to the office just yet, Elliott. Let’s stop at that ice cream parlor on the boulevard. Suddenly I’ve got a craving for coconut ice cream.”

  I stared at Gloria. “A craving?” I said, raising one eyebrow.

  “Not that kind of craving,” she said. “Two kids is plenty. There aren’t going to be any more surprises.”

  I let my breath out and headed for the ice cream parlor. I parked at the curb and the two of us went inside to scan the display cases that held more than thirty different flavors. Gloria made a beeline for the coconut ice cream container while I took my time before selecting butter pecan. I paid for the cones and found an empty table near the window. There were seven or eight other tables in the sop, all filled with families, kids and women, all licking their ice cream cones.

  I’d taken three licks and then paused. I started to tell Gloria about my experience with the young clerk and the two extra pennies. “I tell you,” I said, “I thought she was going to break down and cry until I explained it all to her.”

  “It’s a sign of the times,” Gloria said. “I swear this next generation is going to drag the median I.Q. score way down. Have you heard how young girls talk these days?”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “I don’t know what you’d call it exactly,” Gloria said. “I’m not sure if the right term for it is Valley Girl talk, but I’ve noticed that a lot of young girls pronounce their vowels different these days.”

  “Like what?” I said. “Give me an example.”

  “Okay,” Gloria said, licking on her ice cream while she tried to think of one. “I heard one of these little airheads the other day talking to a friend of hers about some girl named Beth, only she pronounced it Buth. She talked about how Buth went to bud with some guy named Tud, I mean Ted. How strange is that? And she referred to her dad as, ‘my dod.’

  “Sounds like they like to slur the short e vowel sound with a short u sound,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Gloria said. “It’s almost like they don’t want to disturb their makeup or like they’re afraid their face will crack if they pronounce it correctly. It’s annoying as hell.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I have heard that myself.” Gloria nodded in agreement and licked some more ice cream from her cone. “So I imagine they’d refer to Superman’s alter ego as Clark…”

  “Kunt,” Gloria blurted out before she realized what she’d just said in a room full of children and families. She immediately got up from the table and hurried outside with her cone. I followed close behind, trying to stifle a laugh. Once I got outside, I let loose with some good belly laughter.

  “You led me right into that one, Elliott,” she said, her face turning serious now.

  I tried in vain to keep a straight face but just couldn’t. Before we knew it, we were both laughing so hard that our faces turned red while ice cream dripped off the cone and down onto our hands. We dropped our melted cones into the trash can and wiped out hands on our napkins before getting back into Gloria’s sedan. We were still laughing when we drove back to the office.

  “Here’s a day you can write about in your diary,” I said. “And if any of those Valley Girl idiots were fans of The Grateful Dead, I guess you could call them Dudhuds.”

  “That’s what they sud, all right,” Gloria said, trying to outdo my example.

  “Move on to something else instud,” Gloria said. “Or my face will turn rud.”

  “All right,” I said. “I think we’ve milked this gag enough. Let’s get back to normal before I gag.”

  “Okay, Dod,” Gloria said, making sure she got the last word on the subject.

  I rolled my eyes and kept driving.

  117 - South By Southeast

  Gloria and I were on our way to work that Monday morning after she’d dropped Matt and Olivia off at school. The crisp fall air had eluded us as remnants of summer lingered. A block or so from home Gloria turned to me and said, “I was just talking to Sylvia yesterday and I asked her why I hadn’t seen her lately. She told me that her arthritis was flaring up again and that it was getting really painful for her to do even simple tasks, like walking.”

  “What’s she doing for it?” I said.

  “I think she said her doctor had given her something to take for it,” Gloria said, “but that it didn’t seem to be doing any good. The poor thing is still in such pain she can’t stand it.”

  “Funny you shou
ld bring this up,” I said. “I was just reading something in a magazine yesterday about arthritis treatment and believe it or not, there just may be a treatment out there for Sylvia that maybe she hasn’t thought of yet.”

  “Really?” Gloria said. “Do you remember what it said?”

  “That’s the funny part,” I said. “I do remember it because it seemed so bizarre at the time that it stuck in my head all day and I even woke up thinking about it.”

  “Would you like to share your discovery?” Gloria said, “Or am I supposed to guess.”

  “Oh yeah, right,” I said. “Try and picture this in your mind. You get a hold of a honey bee by the wings. Don’t ask me how, but if you do, you just hold the bee’s rear end over the affected area where the arthritis is giving you the most trouble and let him sting you there.”

  “Let him sting me?” Gloria said.

  “Well, not you,” I said. “But Sylvia might want to give it a try.”

  “Why on earth would anyone want to intentionally let a bee sting them?” Gloria said. “People have been known to die from bee stings.”

  “Well,” I explained. “Naturally you’d want to find out if you’re allergic to bee stings before you try this, but it has been proven that the venom from the honey bee has a beneficial effect on arthritis and stiff joints. There have been several studies on it, in fact.”

  “Then why is it I’ve never heard of it?” Gloria said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Bee venom therapy has been around forever. It goes back three or four hundred years B.C. in Egypt and China. In fact, Hippocrates is supposed to have written about the subject thousands of years ago.”

  “Then why wouldn’t they be jumping all over this treatment today?” Gloria said.

  “You know how arrogant doctors are in general,” I said. “They like to think that their dozen years of medical school is worth more than proven home remedies. Besides, then they’d have to come up with a way to make a five cent treatment show up on their bill as two thousand dollars. Hell, they used to use bee venom therapy to treat arthritis even as recently as the first part of the twentieth century. It wasn’t until after World War II that the medical community suddenly considered it unscientific and turned their backs on it.”