by Bill Bernico
I started at the corner shop and paid a visit to every store on that side of the street. I was having no luck finding anyone who remembered seeing the kid in that shirt. Halfway up the block I spotted a gun shop and decided to ask around inside. I found a clerk standing behind one of the glass counters and approached him. I showed him the picture of the kid from the corner.
“I’m looking into the accident that happened on the corner a few days ago,” I said. “By any chance, would you remember seeing this kid around that time?”
The clerk took the photo from me and studied it briefly before looking back at me. “I’ve seen this kid before,” he said. “But I don’t recall the circumstances.”
“Do you know if he lives in this neighborhood?” I asked.
The clerk shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know. Most of these kids look alike to me. What would make me remember this kid in particular?”
“Take a close look at his shirt,” I said.
The clerk studied the photo again and pursed his lips. “I do remember the kid,” he said. “At least I remember the shirt. I remember it because I thought, what’s so special about those particular vegetables that they warrant a shirt? Do you know?”
“I think it’s the name of some rock band,” I said. “So, what do you remember about his kid?”
“You know,” the clerk said. “I also remembered him because he looks almost like some other kid that was in here three weeks ago. The dumb shit came in here with a baseball bat, trying to hold up the place. Can you imagine anyone so stupid as to try to rob a gun store with a baseball bat?”
“Really?” I said. “What did you do?”
“Me and three other clerks all pulled our pieces and held him until the cops could get here,” the clerk told me. “Even they had to laugh when they came inside and saw the absurdity of the situation.”
“That is kind of funny,” I agreed. “Now, can you tell me anything else about this kid or not?”
“Yeah, all right,” he said. “He’s from around here, I think. Let me ask Leon.” The clerk turned and called to another clerk. “Say, Leon, would you come over here for a minute?”
Leon stopped wiping his countertop and stepped over to where we were. My clerk looked at Leon and handed him the photo. “Say, Leon, you remember this kid? I think he might live in the neighborhood.”
Leon took the picture and studied it. After a moment he handed it back to the first clerk. “Sure,” Leon said. “That’s Ron Horton’s kid, Terry or Perry or something like that. They live over on Ivar up near Franklin. That small white house on the corner. Why?”
“Thanks, Leon,” I said, taking the photo back. I thanked my original clerk as well—I never did get his name—and left the store.
I walked back up the boulevard toward my office building. I could see Matt across the street coming out of a shoe store carrying the photo. I whistled a shrill, high-pitched whistle and caught his attention. I yelled over to him, “Stay there, I’m coming over.” I met up with Matt at the corner and told him what I’d found. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s grab my car and drive up to Franklin.”
“The whole two block?” Matt said.
“We might need the car if Horton decides to run,” I told Matt.
“Horton?” Matt said. “As in the elephant that tried to hatch the egg?”
“Horton’s his last name,” I explained. “Not sure of his first name. Might be Terry or Perry, according to the clerk in the gun store.”
Matt and I walked through our building—it was shorter than walking around it—to the parking lot to get my car. I pulled out of the parking lot onto Cahuenga and headed north. I turned east on Yucca, and north on Ivar. At the corner we spotted the small white house Leon had described. I eased the car to the curb as Matt and I got out. We walked up Horton’s walk to his front door and rang the bell. A kid with no shirt, in his mid-twenties opened the door and looked at us as if we had no business being there.
“You Horton?” Matt said.
“Who’s askin’,?” the kid said.
I pulled out my I.D. and badge and gave him a quick glimpse of it before closing it again. “Are you Horton?” I repeated.
“What of it?” Horton said.
“Break out some I.D., right now.”
Horton pulled a wallet from his back pocket and opened it to his driver’s license. It said Jerry Horton. I looked up at the kid. “Is there a Terry or a Perry that also lives here?”
Jerry shook his head. “Nope, just me and Dad.”
“I have just a couple of questions for you, Jerry,” Matt said. “Do you own a Red Hot Chili Peppers tee shirt?”
Jerry’s eyebrows furrowed and he switched his gaze to me. “Is he for real?” he said, hiking a thumb at Matt.
“Just answer the question,” I told him. Jerry had had the front door for almost two minutes now and I was starting to detect the smell of something burning. It smelled like burning rope.
“Yeah, so what?” Jerry said.
“Second question,” Matt said. “Were you on the corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga around nine-thirty last Thursday?”
Jerry looked like he was having trouble keeping his eyes open and was beginning to scratch his stomach.
“Well, Jerry?” I said. “We you on that corner at that time?”
“What if I was? So what.”
“Look, Jerry,” I said. “I’m going to be honest with you. We’re not policemen. We’re private detectives, so you don’t have to worry about us busting you for marijuana.”
Jerry nervously looked over his shoulder and then tried to step backwards into the house.
I stuck my foot in the door before he could close it. “Jerry,” I said impatiently. “I’m trying to cut you a break. I’ll keep what I know about you and your marijuana to myself if you’ll just help us out a little. If you don’t want to cooperate, well, then, I’ll just have to call the police and have them go through your house with their drug sniffing dog.”
Jerry peered around the door at me. “So what do you want from me?”
“That’s more like it,” I said, pushing his door open again. “A friend of mine was involved in that accident that happened on that corner where you were standing. You were right there. You had to have seen what happened. All we need you to do is tell the police what you saw and your part in this is done. Deal?”
“That’s all I have to do?” Jerry said.
I held up on hand. “I promise.”
Jerry eased himself out onto the front stoop and closed his door behind him. He wasn’t wearing shoes or socks, either. All he had on was a dirty pair of blue jeans. His hair could have used a dose of shampoo, too.
“My friend was driving the eastbound car,” I said. “Did you see the woman in the other car turn in front of his car?”
Jerry shook his head. “Didn’t happen like that. The dude that was heading east ran the red light. That woman was already starting her turn when he plowed into her. Scared the ever-loving shit out of me. After that I just ran across the intersection and came home.”
“Why didn’t you stick around and tell the police what you saw?” Matt said.
Jerry turned to Matt. “‘Cause I hadda get home, okay?”
Matt shot me a knowing glance and then looked back at Jerry. “I think I get it, Jerry. You couldn’t stick around because you were carrying, isn’t that right?”
Jerry looked away. I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Look, Jerry, sooner or later the police will find you, just like we did and when that happens they might not be as patient as we’ve been with you. They might insist on coming inside and I’m sure it wouldn’t take their noses long to detect the smell of something burning in there.”
“All right, all right, so what do you want from me?” Jerry said.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Matt told Jerry. “You’re going to tell the police what you know about this accident. You’re going to testify in court under oath about what you saw. And then we’r
e all going to leave you along to get on with your life. How does that sound? Otherwise after we leave here, your next visitors will be wearing blue uniforms.”
“Can I at least get some shoes and socks on?” Jerry said.
“And don’t forget this shirt,” I said, pointing to the shirt Jerry was wearing in the photo. “Oh, and one more thing, Jerry. Hide that joint parked on your ear when you chat with cops.”
Jerry grabbed at his ear and found the joint. He pulled it off and sheepishly smiled. “Stay right here,” Jerry said, stepping back into his house and closing the door.
I turned to Matt. “I’ll wait here. You keep an eye on the back door. I’ll whistle when he comes back out again.”
A minute later Jerry emerged wearing the Chili Peppers shirt and shoes. I couldn’t tell if there were socks under them. I whistled and Matt came back around from the back of the house. The three of us climbed into my car and I drove Jerry to the twelfth precinct. He gave his statement to Lieutenant Anderson and then turned back to me. “Can I go home now?”
I drove Jerry back to the little white house on Ivar. Matt and I returned to our office and plopped down on the leather sofa. Matt looked at me. “Now what do we do? You client is not going to be very happy with you when you tell him what you found.”
“That’s not my problem,” I said.
“But he’ll be arrested and charged with that other woman’s death,” Matt said.
“Again, not my problem.”
“You know he won’t pay you,” Matt said.
“And that, my boy, is another reason to get a deposit up front, like the four hundred dollars I got from Henry.”
“But we only did one day’s work for him,” Matt reminded me.
“And we’re not finished yet,” I told him. “We’re finished for today, but tomorrow we have to print out our report for him, call him in for a conference to discuss our findings, go over the itemized bill. Hell that’ll put us into the second day and what do you know? No refund.”
“And I also suppose you’ll tell all of this to the police so they can be here to pick him up when you’re done with him,” Matt said.
“I won’t have to,” I told Matt. “Jerry already told them exactly what happened. We’re not turning Henry in to the police. They are simply acting on information they learned in the course of their investigation.”
“Is this what’s known as a loophole?” Matt said.
“I guess so,” I said. “Just think about that poor woman who paid with her life because of Henry’s impatience and disregard for the law. At least they’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that it was not the woman’s fault, for whatever that’s worth.”
“You’re right, Dad. It’s called closure.” Matt got up from the sofa. “Now, if you will excuse me, I think I’ll go home and take a nap. If you recall, I still have to work tonight for Lee Collier.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Sure, go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow. You have everything you need for your surveillance job?”
“And then some,” Matt some. “While I was canvassing the neighborhood looking for Horton, I wandered into an electronics store and bought myself a new toy. It’s an infrared camera that’ll give me clear pictures at night. You never know when something like that will come in handy.”
I smiled. “Yes sir, you’re going to fit right in here, son.”
The following morning I came in just before nine and spent a peaceful hour with the morning paper. I was several minutes into my report writing when Matt walked in, wearing an ear-to-ear grin. “What’s with you?” I said.
“Your client may not be happy with the results of his investigation,” Matt said, “But my client is going to be happy enough for both of them. Wait until you see what I got last night. Come on over and let’s take a look.”
I pulled Matt’s client chair alongside him on his side of the desk as he turned on his computer and slipped a USB jump drive into one of the slots. A minute later the screen filled with images of two neighborhood yards.
“The one on the right is Collier’s yard,” Matt explained. “The one on the left is Tim Bradford’s.” He paused and then said, “Just wait, it’s coming up. Right here.” Matt pointed to the screen. “This is just after nine last night. Watch what Bradford does.”
“I watched as Tim Bradford looked both ways before trampling his own flower bed. He made sure that he made enough noise for Collier to hear him. Lee Collier came out of his house to find Bradford standing there defiantly. They got into a shouting match at which point Tim Bradford threw himself over his hedge, ducked down behind it and proceeded to punch himself in the face several times.
I looked at Matt. “What the hell is he doing?”
“Just wait,” Matt said. “It gets better.”
With Matt video taping the entire incident, Bradford then reached into his pocket and withdrew what appeared to be a cell phone and punched in three numbers.
“Now what’s he doing?” I said.
“Just wait,” Matt said. “It’s coming up soon.”
Two minutes later a patrol car rolled up to the curb in front of the Bradford house and two uniformed officers got out. One of them walked up to Lee Collier’s front door while the other one walked over to the Bradford house to find Tim Bradford still lying on the lawn, looking like he’d been in a fist fight. The cop knelt at Bradford’s side and then grabbed the shoulder mic to call for an ambulance. When he finished he called to his partner, who was still talking to Lee Collier. “Hold him, Chuck,” the cop said to his partner.
Chuck slipped the cuffs on Colliers hands and led him to where his partner was looking after Tim Bradford’s condition. He looked up at Collier. “We’ve been here before, Collier. You and your neighbor can’t seem to get along, but this time you’ve gone too far.”
“I never touched him,” Collier insisted.
“I suppose he did this to himself,” Chuck said, gesturing to the cuts on Bradford’s face.
“Actually that’s just what he did,” Matt’s voice said from somewhere off camera.
“Who are you?” Chuck said.
Again Matt’s voice said, “Matt Cooper. I’ve been hired by Mr. Collier to do surveillance on his house to find out who’s been destroying Mr. Bradford’s property. Bradford claims it was Mr. Collier.”
“And do you have evidence to prove otherwise?” the first officer said.
“Funny you should ask,” Matt told the cop.
“This next part is really funny,” Matt said, turning to me. “Check it out.”
Matt described what the police saw on his video screen. “I told the cop that right here is where Mr. Bradford trampled his own flowers and then he leapt over the hedge and punched himself in the face several times. The police watched in fascination at what Tim Bradford was doing to himself. Then the video shows Bradford calling 911 to report that he had been assaulted. At this point I took the video camera back, stopped the playback and fast forwarded to where I’d left off. I started recording again. Take a look.”
I watched as Matt pointed his camera down toward the prone Tim Bradford.
The cop who’d been kneeling beside him suddenly shook Bradford’s shoulder. “Come on, Bradford. Get up. The show’s over.” He and his partner pulled Tim Bradford to his feet and almost dragged him back to their patrol car. Once he was in the back seat in cuffs, Chuck called to cancel the ambulance.
Matt ended the video and turned to me. “That camera’s already paid for itself,” he told me.
“I’ll say it has,” I said. “What did Collier have to say about all this?”
“He was tickled pink,” Matt said. “Said he’s going to recommend us to all his friends and he even gave me a bonus.” Matt held out a fifty dollar bill, proud of his accomplishments.
“That’s great, Matt,” I said. “So where’s the rest?”
“The rest of what?” Matt said, obviously puzzled.
“The two hundred dollars for our daily fee,” I said.
Matt stared blankly at me for a moment and then slapped himself in the forehead.
“Won’t work,” I said. “No one’s going to believe that I hit you in the forehead.”
The absurdity of the moment was too much for either of us to take and we both broke out laughing, my arm around my son’s shoulder.
When the laughter finally subsided, I stepped back over to my desk and leaned back in my chair. Matt put his camera equipment away and picked up his phone. He dialed a number he had obviously memorized and said, “Hello, Chris? Yeah, it’s Matt. Are we still on for tonight?”
I could really relate to what Matt must be feeling right about now. I’d been there myself when Gloria and I first realized that we cared for each other. At this point, I think I felt about as good for Matt as he did for himself. If things kept going well for Matt and Chris, who knows, someday there might even be a fifth generation Cooper running this business.
124 - Dead Silence
Christine Sullivan dotted the three i’s in her signature and handed the check to the clerk, who gave it a quick look, initialed it and slipped it into the drawer. She handed Chris her receipt and bagged her purchase. Chris thanked her and left the store with what she considered to be the perfect present for her new boyfriend, Matt Cooper. She and Matt had met one evening while Matt was staying late at the office to catch up on some paperwork. Chris had come to the Cooper office looking for help from the private eye firm that bore Matt’s name, along with that of his father, Elliott. The sign on the door read, ‘Cooper and Son’ Private Investigations. That had been six months ago and she had been dating Matt ever since.
Matt, on the other hand, had chosen a present for Chris as well, unaware that she had done the same that very day. Tonight marked the six month anniversary of the night they met and Matt had special plans for the two of them. He’d made reservations at a fine restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. He and Chris had already patronized most of the eateries in Hollywood and he wanted tonight to be something special. Tonight was the night he intended to ask Chris to marry him. After their main course, he’d make up some excuse to go to the men’s room but would instead visit the kitchen. He’d ask the head waiter of the restaurant to let him come back to the kitchen and slip the engagement ring he’d just bought into Christine’s cup of pudding. The surprise would be genuine when she felt the ring in her mouth. He figured he could always rinse it off in his water glass afterwards.
