by Bill Bernico
“Well that was only a half-truth,” Eric said. “I actually called about these last three supposed heart attack cases, but I could tell from talking with both of you that you didn’t want to involve Matt.”
“Hell, I don’t even want to involve me,” I said. “But thanks for looking out for Matt.”
“Elliott,” Eric started. “I just came from Andy Reynolds’ office and found out a few more things about victim number two, Leo Lazslo. Andy detected traces of something sticky on Lazslo’s shirt sleeves as well as red fuzzy fibers under his fingernails. Do either of those things suggest anything to you?”
I thought for a moment. “Gloves?”
“That’s what I thought,” Eric said. “Not enough room for the fingers to move. I suggested mittens, but who even owns mittens in this part of the country?”
“We’ve got a large pair of mittens at home,” I said, half joking. “Never threw a snowball with them, but I’ve pulled many a pizza out of the over with one of them.”
“Oven mitts,” Eric said. “That makes sense. Andy and I figured that whatever he had on his hands would have been taped onto his sleeves to keep them on, but why?”
“To protect his hands from gathering other evidence?” I suggested.
“Keep going.”
“That’s all I have,” I said.
“It’s more than I had,” Eric admitted. “I’ll look a little further into it and let you know if we find anything. Thanks for your input, Elliott.”
“Any time,” I said and closed my phone.
I finished by business in Burbank later that afternoon. It was a simple case involving insurance fraud and it didn’t take me long to snap a few photos of the subject with the supposed bad back maneuvering a full wheelbarrow up and down his driveway several times. The man apparently also felt good enough to work a jack hammer and lay several rows of bricks before I had enough evidence and called it a day. By the time I got back to the office it was almost quitting time and Matt was just shutting down his computer as I walked in.
“What’d I miss?” I said, looking at Matt.
“Not much,” Matt replied, “Unless you consider leg dangling a lost art.”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “I perfected leg dangling. Came with the job. Hell, I’m a third-generation leg dangler from way back. So, it was pretty slow, eh?”
“I sure hope I get a chance to do some actual detective work one of these days,” Matt said. “Otherwise I might as well go stock shelves at Wal-Mart.”
“Give it time, Son,” I told Matt. “There’ll be days so busy you’ll wish you were back here dangling your legs.”
“I doubt that,” Matt said.
“Tell you what,” I suggested. “How about tomorrow morning we stop and see Eric over at the twelfth precinct? You can try out your powers of deduction with a few of the clues he came up with concerning victim number two.”
“What’s he got?”
I waved Matt off. “I’m not going to tell you ahead of time. I want to see what you come up with on your own. We’ll stop over there before we come into the office, okay?”
“Okay,” Matt said, heading for the door. He turned back toward me. “You coming, Dad?”
“You go ahead,” I said. “I need to make a few notes while they’re still fresh in my mind. I also want to transfer these photos off the camera and onto my computer. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight in the parking lot downstairs.”
Matt gave me a final wave and left the office. I finished transferring the photos and had put the finishing touches on my notes to the client when my phone rang. I looked up at the wall clock. It was forty minutes after our regular office hours. I decided to let the machine get this call and pulled my jacket off the coat rack. I’d almost made it to the door when the recorded message finished and the caller began to leave their message.
“Mr. Cooper,” a frantic woman’s voice said. “My name is Alice Bowman. Lester was my husband. I need to see you right away. Please call me at…”
I picked up the phone and turned off the machine. “Mrs. Bowman,” I said. “You just caught me before I left for the day. What is it? You sound really stressed.”
“Oh, thank you for picking up, Mr. Cooper,” Alice Bowman said. “I know it’s late, but could I meet with you right away?”
“Mrs. Bowman,” I said, “I’ve already told the police that I wouldn’t involve myself in any matter having to do with any of these so-called heart attack deaths.”
“Any?” she said. “There have been others?”
“What I mean to say,” I began, now regretting having picked up the phone, “is that I think I know what Lester was investigating at the time of his death and that is one area that I can’t involve myself or my son in.”
“But Mr. Cooper,” Alice said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “I think some of those same men are after me.”
“I don’t understand, Mrs. Bowman,” I began. “If you think you’re in danger you should be calling the police, not me. Do you know if there’s anyone outside your house trying to break in? Has anyone threatened you personally?”
“Well, not exactly,” she said. “And that’s why I can’t call the police. It’s more like a feeling, woman’s intuition, if you will.”
“Do you think Lester might have gathered any information or evidence during his last case?” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know. He may have, but just never shared it with me.”
“Well, if you’re right about this, it could be that whoever may or may not be stalking you doesn’t know that Lester didn’t share anything with you,” I said. “Chances are that if he does have any evidence, it may be hidden somewhere in your house. Keep your doors locked and don’t let anyone in until I get there. Let me have your address.”
Alice Bowman gave me her address and then hung up. I hurried down to my car. Lester and Alice Bowman lived in a small house on Barton Avenue, just east of Vine, between Santa Monica and Melrose. It took me the better part of twenty minutes to make to that location. I coasted to a stop in front of the white house with the red Spanish tile roof. I hurried up the walk and up onto the porch, looking around me as I rung the doorbell. No one answered, making me wonder if the doorbell was broken. I pulled the screen door open and knocked on the inner door. On my third knock, the door swung open on its own and I suddenly found myself with my .38 in my hand.
“Alice,” I said, as I entered the house. “Mrs. Bowman, are you here?” No answer. Goosebumps were beginning to form on the back of my neck. Something was all wrong here. I eased myself further into the house, checking the kitchen and dining room. I turned and walked down the hallway, opening bedroom doors as I went. Once I opened the last door on the left, I saw her lying across a double bed. Her unblinking eyes stared up at the ceiling. As I walked around to the other side of her, a deep gash became evident across her right temple. That part of the bedding was soaked in blood. This was no heart attack.
I backed out of the bedroom, fished my cell phone from my jacket pocket and dialed the twelfth precinct. The desk sergeant who answered the phone told me that Lieutenant Anderson had checked out for the day and asked if there was anyone else who could help me.
“This is Elliott Cooper,” I said.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Cooper,” the sergeant said. “I know you. We met last month right here at the station. Can someone else help you this evening?”
“Better send someone to Lester Bowman’s house right away,” I told the sergeant, giving him the address. “Mrs. Bowman has been murdered. I’m here now. You’ll need the crime lab and the coroner. I’ll wait right here until they arrive.”
“We’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything,” the sergeant reminded me and hung up.
I disconnected and dialed Eric’s personal cell number. He sounded a bit winded as he answered his phone. “Elliott,” he said, breathing heavily. “I didn’t know you had my personal cell number.”
“You gave it to me last year,” I
said. “This is just the first time I’ve had to use it since then. Listen, I’m here at Lester Bowman’s house. His wife called me at the office and wanted to see me. When I got here, I found her dead in the back bedroom. I already called this in to the precinct. Your desk sergeant is sending a few men along with the crime lab and the coroner. I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Don’t touch anything, Elliott,” Eric said.
“Same thing your sergeant said,” I told him. “You coming?”
“No, I’m just breathing hard,” Eric said and quickly realized that the joke was in poor taste considering the circumstances. “I’ll be right there. Give me that address, would you?”
I gave him the address, hung up and dropped the phone back into my pocket. I did not holster my weapon. Instead I continued my search through the rest of the house, hoping to find anything that Lester may have left behind. None of the other rooms yielded any secrets and I thought that was it, until I spotted one more door off the kitchen. I pulled it open and saw a wooden staircase leading to a basement. I flipped on the light switch and eased myself down the dozen steps.
At the bottom of the stairs I could see a large, outdated furnace, the kind referred to as an octopus. I had a five-foot diameter burn chamber in the middle with eight pipes coming out of the top portion and leading to different areas of the house. Further into the basement I found what probably once was a coal bin. It was empty now, since this particular furnace had long since been converted to fuel oil, as evidenced by the add-on burner mounted to the side of the burn chamber.
At the end of the room stood stacks of boxes, each with a handwritten label on the side, identifying that particular box with a range of dates. These were obviously Lester’s work records and case files. The stacks didn’t seem to have been disturbed. I decided to leave all this alone and climbed the stairs back to the kitchen. Just outside, I could hear several cars screeching to a stop at the curb. I glanced out the living room curtains and saw two black and whites as well as the coroner’s van. A few seconds later, Eric pulled up behind the van in his cruiser. I let out my breath and holstered my weapon. I opened the front door and directed the officers to Alice Bowman in the back bedroom.
Eric stepped up onto the porch and into the house. I met him in the hallway. “Back there,” I said, hiking my thumb over my shoulder. “It ain’t pretty.”
I waited in the living room while Eric took a look in the bedroom. When he came back into the living room he looked at me and asked, “Do you remember what time it was that you spoke with her on the phone?”
“It was a few minutes past five-thirty,” I said. “Matt had gone home at the usual closing time half an hour earlier and I stayed behind to write up my notes and transfer some photos to my computer. “Mrs. Bowman called just as I was leaving at half past.” I explained the content of her conversation with me.
“Then she’d been dead for less than twenty minutes by the time you got here,” Eric said.
“Sounds about right,” I agreed. “Where are you going with this, Eric?”
Eric paused momentarily to choose his words. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she was killed shortly after talking to you, Elliott.”
“What do you mean?” I said defensively.
“Hold on, Elliott,” Eric said. “Don’t get your back up. I’m not saying you had anything to do with this, but think about it for a second. “Suppose someone were to get into your office and plant a bug or two, maybe even tap your phone. They would know all about your conversation with Mrs. Bowman and be able to get here ahead of you, search the house, kill her and still make it out again before you showed up.”
“Why would anyone want to tap my phone or bug my office?” I said, genuinely puzzled by the thought.
Eric held up one finger. “Think about it. No one’s bothering you or Matt because you’ve openly said you didn’t want anything to do with this case. I spoke with you again after that and we talked about Lester Bowman looking into certain aspects for me and it wasn’t long after that phone call that he turns up with a heart attack, or at least that’s what we thought at the time. Now his wife calls you and suddenly she’s dead, too. So what’s the common thread here?”
“Me?” I said.
“Exactly,” Eric said. “It makes sense when you think about it. I think we’d better have your office swept for bugs right away.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Get ‘em out of there.”
“No,” Eric said. “That’s exactly what we don’t want to do.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t you get it, Elliott? If we do find bugs or a phone tap, we can use them to our advantage. We could let it be known that you or someone else has information that could be damaging to Willy Logan. He’ll come looking for said evidence and we’ll be waiting for him.”
“Well then pick some imaginary target,” I said. “I don’t want to put Matt in harm’s way, or myself either, as far as that goes.”
“All right,” Eric agreed. “But first let me get to your office with the bug detectors and we’ll take it from there.”
“Tomorrow morning?” I said.
“Tonight,” Eric insisted. “By the time you and Matt come in tomorrow morning, we could have a head start on nailing Logan. You just make sure you talk to Matt after we’ve swept the office so that he doesn’t inadvertently give us away. Give me forty-five minutes and then meet me at your office. I’ll bring in my electronics expert. He’ll be able to sweep the entire office in thirty minutes or less. I’ve gotta run, Elliott. I’ll see you back at your office.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’ll give me time to talk to Matt tonight yet. See you later, Eric.”
I hurried back out to my car and flipped open my cell phone, dialing Matt’s number. He answered right away.
“What is it, Dad,” he said upon answering.
“How’d you know it was me calling?” I said.
“There’s this new invention called caller I.D.,” Matt said sarcastically. “Helps keep me from picking up for someone I don’t want to talk to.”
“I’m flattered, but you’ll have to save this conversation for another time. Right now I need to see you as soon as possible. Let’s pick a mid-way point between our two locations and meet…right now. It’s important.”
“Sure, Dad,” Matt said. “Where are you now?”
I gave Matt my location.
“I’m on Hollywood near Highland,” Matt said. “The halfway point between us would put it somewhere around Cahuenga and Fountain, say ten minutes from now? You sure you just can’t tell me on the phone?”
“Too risky,” I told him. “You’ll understand better once I lay it all out for you. Hey, you wanted a juicy case to work on. Well, this is about as juicy as they come. All right, Cahuenga and Fountain in ten minutes.” I hung up and started my car. I made it to the rendezvous point in eight minutes and waited in my car. Two minutes later I saw Matt’s car coming my way. I slid out from behind my wheel and flagged him down at the curb. When he pulled over, I slid in next to him and told him to drive.
“What’s with all the cloak and dagger, Dad?”
I told him what Eric had suspected and explained how we’d have to act when we came into the office tomorrow morning. Matt agreed and drove me back to my car. Before I got out, I turned to Matt and added, “Not a word to anyone about this, you hear?”
“Who am I going to tell?” Matt said. “I’ll see you in the morning, Dad.”
Matt drove away as I got back into my own car and drove to my office. I got there ten minutes ahead of Eric and his electronics expert, Chuck Dobbs, who was carrying something that resembled an old turn-of-the-century rug beater with a cord hanging out of the handle that led to a small box. We all remained silent as Dobbs ran the business end of the sweeper around the room, occasionally glancing at the dial on his machine. It registered nothing and remained silent.
When Dobbs ran the sweeper over the gooseneck lamp on Matt’s desk, he got a rea
ding on his machine and ran the wand back and forth. He set the machine down on the floor and got to his knees to look under the lamp shade. He looked up at Eric and nodded, holding up one finger. Eric nodded acknowledgement and Dobbs went back to sweeping the rest of the room, finding a similar bug under the shade of my desk lamp. Dobbs silently held up two fingers and finished sweeping the rest of the office, finding nothing else.
Dobbs turned off his machine and pulled something out of his pocket that resembled a ballpoint pen. He waved it over my desk phone and a red LED lit up on end of the device. He touched the tip of his mini wand to the earpiece end of my phone and the red light blinked steadily. Again he nodded at Eric and held up three fingers. Dobbs repeated the procedure with Elliott’s phone and got the same blinking red light. He held up four fingers and then hiked a thumb toward the office door.
Dobbs slipped the mini wand into his pocket, picked up the hand-held sweeper and left the office, with Eric and me close behind. He motioned for us to follow him down the hall and waited until the three of us were on the elevator with the doors closed before he spoke.
“The office is hot,” Dobbs told Eric. “No telling how long those bugs have been there.” He turned to me. “Do you often leave the office unattended during the day?”
“There’s usually one of us there when the other one goes out for anything,” I said.
“Usually?” Dobbs said. “Can you think of a time when both of you would have been gone at the same time?”
I shook my head. “Aside from lunch, I can’t think of anything recent.”
“It would only have taken someone five minutes to place those four bugs. They could have been in and out again in the time it takes you to run to the corner for a hot dog.”
“Well, then it could have been yesterday or today or last week, for all I know,” I said.
“The important thing is that we found them,” Eric said. “And now that we know they’re there, we can use them to our best advantage.” He turned to Dobbs. “Thanks for coming down here after hours, Chuck. I really appreciate it.”
“Just get that son-of-a-bitch,” Dobbs said. “That’ll be payment enough for me—well, that and the bill I’m going to send your department.”
