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

by Bill Bernico

  The fifth man, Harry Blackwell, shared something with Randy Brock. They both worked in the trades. Blackwell was an electrician while Brock was a plumber. Gees, Elliot thought, if these four guys got together, they could build a house.

  Elliott scanned the document for the third man, Lyle Freeman, who was a real estate agent with a company right here in Hollywood. All right, so the first four could build the house and the last guy could sell it. This had ceased to be a coincidence. They were definitely connected in the housing industry, but why would anyone target all of them?

  On his way in to work this morning, Elliott had noticed three new houses going up down the street from him. He hadn’t thought anything of it when he’d passed it every day on his way in to work, but now he needed to satisfy his curiosity and decided to swing by there again and start asking a few questions. Matt and his news about their wedding plans would have to wait, Elliott thought. He left Matt a note, letting him know where he would be and asked him to meet him there when he returned. Elliott locked up the office and rode the elevator to the lobby. He exited to the parking lot behind his building and found his car. These new homes were no more than fifteen minutes from downtown Hollywood. Maybe he’d find a few more answers there among the skeletal beginnings of those three new houses.

  Elliott pulled up to the curb and walked toward the first partially built house. Piles of lumber littered the area alongside the house. A portable cement mixer stood further back and beyond that he could see a pair of sawhorses set up with two-by-fours lying across them. The sounds of hammering came from somewhere overhead and he looked up to see two men straddling a large timber that ran the length of the structure. They were pounding nails into supporting timbers that made up the roof.

  Elliott stepped around the wooden debris and over to a man who was bent over a blueprint pinned to a table. With all the noise going on around him, the man hadn’t heard Elliott step up behind him and when Elliott tapped his shoulder, the man flinched and turned around quickly.

  “You trying to give me a heart attack?” the man said. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous. Who are you and what do you want?”

  Elliott extended his hand and said, “My name is Elliott Cooper and I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions if you have just a minute.”

  The man looked at his watch and then back at Elliott. “Jack Ormand, he said. “A minute is about all I do have,” he said. “We’re on a pretty tight schedule.”

  “This won’t take long,” Elliott assured Ormand. “Would you happen to know a couple of carpenters by the name of Paul Carver or Ted Fillmore?”

  “Never heard of Fillmore,” Ormand said.

  “What about Carver?”

  Ormand pointed up. “That’s him up there. He’s the one in the plaid shirt and beard.”

  Elliott looked up toward the roof again and then back at Ormand. “Would it be all right if I talked to him for just a minute?”

  “I don’t know,” Ormand said. “Those trusses have to be installed before we quit for the day.”

  “It’s very important,” Elliott said. “Just for a minute, I swear.”

  Ormand sighed and then looked at Elliott. “One minute,” he said and plucked a walkie-talkie off his belt. He pressed the talk button and said, “Paul, come on down here for a minute, will you? There’s a guy here says he needs to talk to you.”

  The radio squawked back. “I’ll be right down. Just let me secure this support I’m on now.”

  Paul Carver hammered in a couple more nails and then slid himself over to where a ladder leaned against one of the trusses and eased himself down to the ground. He walked over to where Jack Ormand stood. “Now, what’s all this about?”

  Ormand gestured toward Elliott. “This fellow wants to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Elliott Cooper,” Elliott said, extending his hand. Carver shook it but looked warily at the stranger. Elliott put his hand on Carver’s shoulder and guided him away from Ormand until they were out of earshot. “Mr. Carver,” Elliott began, “Are you familiar with a man named Ted Fillmore?”

  “Ted? Sure,” Carver said. “He’s not in any kind of trouble, is he?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Elliott said, pulling the list from his pocket and looking at the other three names again. “What about Harry Blackwell and Randy Brock?”

  “I know ‘em,” Carver said. “Say, what’s this all about?”

  “Do you also know a man named Lyle Freeman?” Elliott added.

  “I’m not saying another word until you tell me what this is all about, Mr. Cooper.” Carver seemed annoyed now.

  Elliott hesitated and then held the list out so Carver could read it. Carver glanced down at the paper and then back at Elliott. “Why are all of our names on that list?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not bringing good news, Mr. Carver,” Elliott told him.

  “What do you mean?” Carver said.

  Elliott explained about finding the briefcase and about its contents. He also told Carver about the man in the blue suit who had taken the briefcase away from him at gunpoint. He gestured at the list that Carver was holding. “I have a feeling that this is a hit list and that the five of you are all in danger.”

  Carver smiled. “Was this guy about six foot three with green eyes and a red nose?”

  Elliott eyebrows narrowed. “Yeah, you know him?”

  Carver laughed now and clapped his hands once, rubbing them together. “We did it,” he said. “Hot dog, there’s ten grand I can sure use.”

  Elliott was confused by this man’s attitude. “Huh?”

  “We did it,” Carver repeated. “Each of us is going to get a cool ten grand. Wait until the others hear about this.”

  “Are we on the same page here?” Elliott asked. “I don’t get it.”

  “The tall green-eyed guy’s name is Byron Handleman,” Carver explained. “All six of us each put in a thousand bucks and Byron took it down to the racetrack at Santa Anita and bet it on a horse in the fifth race. He was running at ten to one odds and it looks like that nag came through for us.”

  “That money is a payoff for all of you?” Elliott said.

  Carver nodded and smiled again.

  “So Mr. Green Eyes isn’t out to kill all of you?” Elliott said, feeling more than a little foolish by now.

  Carver shook his head. “Nope. I guess his inside tip about that horse was legit. What do you know?”

  “But there was only fifty grand in the briefcase,” Elliott said.

  “Of course,” Carver said. “There would be. Byron would have no reason to keep his cut in there. It’s probably already in his safe deposit box at the bank. He was just bringing the rest of us our cut.”

  “What about the taxes?” Elliott said. “Isn’t that considered income?”

  “I won’t tell anybody if you don’t,” Carver said.

  “Oh oh,” Elliott muttered, as he focused his gaze at a spot on the ground.

  “Oh oh, what?” Carver said.

  “Oh oh, the police are already involved,” Elliott explained, telling Carver about the call he’d made to Lieutenant Anderson and about the pictures of the six sheets that Eric had taken with him back to the precinct. “I’m afraid they already know about all four of your buddies. The only guy they don’t have any information on is this Byron character.”

  “Oh, that’s just great,” Carver said. “Now the tax people will have their fat little hands out for their thirty percent.” Carver mulled that thought over for a moment and then added, “At least I’ll still come out six grand to the good after taxes. That ain’t hay.”

  “Looks like I brought you both good news and bad,” Elliott said. “Sorry about involving the police, but what was I supposed to do? Byron had a gun on me and my son and there was another one in the briefcase.”

  “If I was delivering that much money around town, I’d carry a gun, too,” Carver said. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Elliott pulled his jacket open, re
vealing the .38 in the shoulder holster under his arm.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t shoot Byron,” Carver said.

  “I never got the chance,” Elliott explained. He looked down at his watch. “I’d better get going. I stirred up enough excitement for one day. Congratulations on your big win, Mr. Carver.” Elliott paused momentarily and then snapped his fingers. “I’d better call off the cops before one of them runs into Byron on their patrol and thinks they have to shoot it out with him. See you around, Mr. Carver. Thanks and give my best to the other four when you see ‘em.”

  Carver headed back toward the ladder, whistling a happy tune, while Elliott hurried back around the unfinished house toward his car. He’d just run past the cement mixer and wasn’t watching where he was running when he suddenly came to a halt, screaming in agony. He looked down at his shoe but couldn’t lift his foot off the piece of lumber under it. He’d stepped on a nail that was protruding through the board. The nail had punctured the sole of his shoe, had ripped through his sock and had embedded itself deep in his foot. He flailed his arms wildly, trying to keep his balance, but tumbled sideways like a child’s toy. His foot pulled loose from the nail, but the rest of his body continued to fall. Elliott landed hard on his right leg and heard something snap when he hit the ground. He howled even louder.

  A few seconds later Paul Carver and Jack Ormand came around the corner to see what all the noise was about. They spotted Elliott lying there on the lumber pile, blood dripping out the bottom of his shoe from the nail hole. He was holding his leg with both hands now.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Cooper?” Ormand asked, extending his hand toward Elliott.

  Elliott grabbed Ormand’s hand and tried to stand, but his right leg burned with pain at the slightest movement. “No, stop,” Elliott said. “Don’t try to move me. I think I might have broken my leg. Better call for an ambulance.”

  Ormand pulled his own cell phone from his pocket, dialed 9-1-1 and requested an ambulance at this address. While he waited for medical help to arrive, Elliott dialed Matt’s cell phone and waited. It took Matt three rings to answer.

  “Cooper and Son. Matt Cooper speaking,” he said, knowing it was his father calling but trying to be funny. “What’s up, Dad?”

  “Now don’t get alarmed,” Elliott said, “but I’ll be heading for the hospital in a few minutes. Close up the office and meet me there as soon as you can.”

  “You meeting someone there?” Matt said, not wanting to hear the alternative.

  “Not exactly,” Elliott explained. “It looks like I’m the patient.”

  “Dad, what happened?” Matt said, more alarm in his voice this time.

  “Nothing too serious,” Elliott said. “I just tripped on a lumber pile and fell on my leg.”

  “Are you all right, Dad?”

  “I, uh, think I might have broken my leg, that’s all.” Elliott tried to downplay his statement.

  “Are you kidding me?” Matt said. When Elliott didn’t answer, Matt added, “I guess you’re not. I’m on my way. I’ll see you in a little bit.” Matt closed his phone and drove Chris to the hospital. He didn’t need to lock up the office. He hadn’t even finished having lunch with Chris when he’d gotten the call. He’d tell her all about it on their way to the hospital.

  Matt pulled into the hospital parking lot several minutes later and he and Chris hurried inside to try to find Elliott. The nurse at the front desk told Matt that Elliott had been taken into the emergency room but wasn’t in surgery yet.

  “You can see him for a minute before they take him away,” the nurse said, pointing to the emergency room entrance.

  Matt and Chris hurried down the hall and pushed the double swing doors aside. Matt could see his father lying on a gurney just inside the door. He looked down at Elliott’s leg. It bent where legs shouldn’t bend and Matt winced. “Ouch,” he said. “That looks painful, Dad. How bad is it?”

  “Compound fracture,” Elliott said. “Looks like I’ll be in a cast for six or seven weeks.” He looked up at Chris, remembering what she’d told him earlier. “You two won’t get married until I get the cast off, will you? I want to be able to dance with my new daughter-in-law at the reception.”

  “We’ll wait,” Chris said, patting Elliott’s shoulder.

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Matt said.

  “What’s ironic about a broken leg?” Elliott wanted to know.

  “No,” Matt explained. “What’s ironic is me just finishing my recuperation period and you just starting yours. If you weren’t in such pain, this could almost be funny.”

  “Almost,” Elliott agreed but then winced again as a jolt of pain shot down his leg.

  “Matt looked down at his father’s foot and saw the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around it. “What happened to your foot?”

  Elliott rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and stepped on a nail,” he said, somewhat embarrassed.

  “Boy, when it rains, it pours, doesn’t it?” Matt said and smiled to himself.

  “Something funny, Matt?” Chris said.

  No, I was just thinking of another Three Stooges film I saw called The Sitter Downers where the three of them are building their own house and Curley steps on a nail. Kind of like you did there, Dad.”

  Elliott rolled his eyes.

  “Anyway,” Matt went on, “Curley’s foot is stuck to the board with the nail and Moe and Larry start yanking on him, trying to pull him free. All the while you can hear the creaky sound effect of someone pulling a rusty nail out of a board. That and the look on Curley’s face was priceless. I’ll bet…”

  “Uh, that’s enough, Matt,” Elliott said. “I get it.”

  The doctor returned at that moment, carrying two large X-Rays that he clipped to a lighted stand. He looked at them briefly and then turned to Elliott. “Both bones are fractured,” he told Elliott. “We’d better get you into surgery and fix them right away.” He turned to Matt and Chris. “You can see him again after we bring him down to the recovery room.” An attendant wheeled Elliott out of the emergency room, the doctor following close behind with Elliott’s chart and X-Rays.

  Matt and Chris walked back down the hall to the nurse’s station and found the waiting room across the hall. They both took a seat when Matt remembered. “I’d better call Mom,” he told Chris. “She’ll want to be here for this.”

  Gloria arrived twenty minutes later without Olivia. She hurried up to Matt and said, “Tell me again what happened. How’s your father doing, Matt?”

  Matt looked past his mother. “Where’s Olivia?” he said.

  “She’s out with Tom and doesn’t have her phone on,” Gloria said. “I’ll try her again later. Now what happened to your father?”

  “He’s fine,” Matt assured her. “He just broke his leg is all.”

  “How on earth did he manage that?” Gloria said.

  “He stepped on a nail and a construction site and toppled over onto his leg,” Matt told her. “The doctor says he’ll be fine in a couple of months. He’ll have a cast on his leg until them.”

  “When will they be bringing him down?” Gloria said.

  Matt checked his watch and then looked back at Gloria. “Should be only another half hour or so. You might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward one of the seats in the waiting room.

  It was forty minutes before they brought Elliott back from surgery. His gurney was wheeled past the waiting room to the recovery room. The nurse at the desk opened the waiting room door and stuck her head in. “They’re just taking your dad to recovery,” she said, looking at Matt. She turned to Gloria. “Are you his wife?”

  Gloria nodded. “How’s he doing, nurse?”

  “He came through it fine,” the nurse said. “He’s still a bit groggy, but you can go in and see him for a minute. Don’t stay too long, though. He’s going to need some rest.”

  “Thank you,” Gloria told the nurse. She and Matt and Chris left the waiting roo
m and followed the gurney to a room at the end of the hall where they wheeled Elliott in and transferred him to the bed. Gloria stepped up alongside his bed and looked down at her husband’s foot. “How’d you manage that?”

  Elliott rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t watching where I was stepping and found a board with a nail sticking up out of it. I kept moving, but my foot stayed in place and I tripped. Nobody’s fault by my own.”

  “Does it hurt much?” Chris said, taking up a place next to Gloria and gesturing at Elliott’s bandaged foot. Matt stepped around to the opposite side of the bed.

  “Nope,” Elliott explained. “They numbed it up pretty good. It just itches a little.”

  “What about the leg?” Gloria said.

  “Same thing,” Elliott said. “I don’t feel anything inside the cast yet. The doctor told me it might itch a bit later on but that I was just supposed to ignore it if I could since there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Did he say how long you’d be laid up, Dad?” Matt said.

  Elliott exhaled a deep breath. “I’ll have to stay home for a week to ten days but I should be able to come back to the office after that.”

  “With a cast on your leg?” Matt said. “Chances are you won’t be chasing down any criminals in that. You gonna use crutches or sit in a wheelchair?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Elliott said. “I’ll see how well I can get around with the crutches first before I make up my mind. By the way, that reminds me. You’d better go and see Eric and tell him to call off his men. The guy with the briefcase isn’t a hit man after all. He’s just trying to deliver race track winnings to five guys who all went in on the bet with him.”

  “But what about the .45 in the briefcase?” Matt said.

  “Wouldn’t you carry one if you had all that cash on you?” Elliott said.

  Matt shrugged. “I guess, and I can see the need for the list of names, but what’s up with the five information sheets on those guys?”

  “I don’t know,” Elliott said. “I never got that far into it before all this happened. Why don’t you ask Eric?”