by Bill Bernico
“Henry Lund,” Matt corrected.
“Henry Lund,” Elliott agreed. “That was his name. You think he did this?”
“He just became our prime suspect,” Eric said. “Thanks, I think I can handle it from here. You’ve been a big help, both of you.”
“That’s it?” Matt said. “Wham, bam, thank you Cooper? Nothing in this for us?”
“Not this time,” Eric said. “This is a capital case now. You two keep your noses out of it, you hear?”
“The first juicy case to come along in weeks and we can’t help,” Elliott said.
“Just remember what I told you both,” Eric said and left the office.
In the silence that followed, Matt looked at his dad, a question playing on his face. Then, as if an actual light bulb were hanging over his head, he turned to Elliott and said, “Loophole time. You and your van were involved in a hit and run. We can at least follow up on whatever progress the North Hollywood police are making, can’t we?”
Elliott smiled. “Yup, you’re a Cooper, all right. Come on, let’s you and me take a drive up north.” He and Matt climbed into Elliott’s less than pristine van and drove back to the North Hollywood police station. Once inside, Elliott found an officer at the front desk and asked if he could see Sergeant O’Hara. The officer told Elliott and Matt to wait on the bench and he’d send him out shortly. Two minutes later Elliott saw the man he recognized from his first visit here several days earlier. It was Sergeant Timothy O’Hara.
Sergeant O’Hara saw something familiar in Elliott’s face as he approached and extended his hand. “Mr. Cooper, if I remember correctly,” he said.
Elliott shook his hand. “You’ve got a good memory,” he said. “I don’t believe you’ve met my son, Matt yet. He stayed in the van the first time I came in here.”
O’Hara shook Matt’s hand and then stepped back. “What brings you gentlemen back here?”
Elliott played it casual. “I just thought I’d follow up on the accident report I filled out and see if you’ve made any progress with finding the other driver.”
Sergeant O’Hara looked over Elliott’s shoulder and his eyes lit up. He turned to Elliott. “You mean that guy?” O’Hara said, gesturing with his chin down the hall toward an officer who was leading a man toward them in cuffs.
“Boy, that’s what I call service,” Elliott said. “You think I can talk to him before you take him away?”
“I don’t know,” O’Hara said. “Could muddy the waters later on. Maybe you should just let us handle this.”
Elliott pulled O’Hara aside and almost whispered in his ear. “You think you have him for just a hit and run charge, Sergeant?”
“What else?” the sergeant said.
“Oh,” Elliott said casually, “How about violating a restraining order, assault, battery, murder, littering…”
“What was that?” O’Hara said.
“Littering?” Elliott said, playing with the sergeant now.
“You said murder?”
“Oh,” Elliott said. “Did I forget to mention that his wife, or should I say, his ex-wife just turned up dead in Hollywood? Now, I don’t have any solid evidence linking it to him, but what do you think the chances are that he’s involved?”
“How do you know these things?” O’Hara said.
“Because I just had a visit in my office from Lieutenant Eric Anderson at the twelfth precinct over in Hollywood,” Elliott explained. “Apparently they just discovered the body of Madeline Crenshaw in her apartment. She’d been beat up pretty bad and ol’ Harry there, has been known to get violent with her in the past. Do the math.”
Sergeant O’Hara gestured toward the officer to bring his prisoner over. O’Hara looked at the man’s face. It has three thin scratches running down his left cheek. “What’s the matter, did your ex-wife put up a fight before you beat her to death?” O’Hara said. The man’s face went white and O’Hara knew he had his man. He turned back to the officer. “Take him to the second interrogation room. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes, sir,” the officer told O’Hara before he led his prisoner back down the hall.
O’Hara turned back to Elliott. “If I remember from our first meeting, I believe you said you were a private investigator.”
“That’s right,” Elliott said. “My son, Matt here is the fourth generation of Coopers to run the business.”
O’Hara gave Elliott and Matt a sideways glance and a wry smile. “And I’ll just bet you didn’t come here today to check on the status of your hit and run accident, either.”
“It had crossed my mind as an afterthought,” Elliott said. “But no, we really came here to nose around a little and see what we could find out.”
“Well, I’m awfully glad you did,” O’Hara said. “We might have let that guy go tomorrow morning after he slept it off in the drunk tank.”
“All part of our full service,” Matt said, handing the sergeant one of his cards.
Sergeant O’Hara looked at the card and then at Matt. He forced a smile and said, “Thanks,” and stuffed the card into his shirt pocket.
“No job’s too big or too small for us,” Matt said.
“We normally don’t farm out any jobs from this office,” O’Hara said. “But if I come across someone who might need your services, I’ll certainly send them your way.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Matt said.
“Would you gentlemen excuse me?” O’Hara said. “I have a suspect to question. Thanks for stopping in. I’m sure you can find your own way out.” O’Hara turned and walked down the hall, disappearing behind the door to the second interrogation room.
“Looks like our work here is done,” Elliott said. “Let go home.” Elliott drove back toward Hollywood. Shortly after he’d gotten back onto the boulevard he found himself driving past a small grocery store. It was Matt who happened to be looking toward the picture window in the front of the store. He caught a glimpse of something and then spread his left arm out, across Elliott’s chest.
“Stop,” Matt said. “Pull over. I saw something strange.”
Elliott pulled to the curb and turned to Matt. “What was it?” he said. “What did you see?”
“I think I saw a robbery in progress,” Matt said. “There was a guy with his arms around some woman who seemed to be struggling to get away from him. I think we’d better go have ourselves a look.”
Matt and Elliott snuck along the south wall, their guns drawn. When they got to the edge of the picture window, Elliott gestured with his .38 and said, “See, there’s the guy and he still has a hold of that woman. Cover me. I’m going to try to get around to the door where he can’t see me. Once I get the drop on him, come in and back me up. There may be others somewhere else in the store.”
Elliott made a dash for the door, pausing just outside. He nodded at Matt before he dashed inside and stuck his revolver in the man’s back. “Let her go and hit the floor,” Elliott said in an authoritative voice.
“What are you…?” the man tried to say.
“On the floor,” Elliott repeated.
At that moment Matt rush in, his .38 out in front of him. A cashier screamed and ducked down behind the counter.
The woman who had been held looked at Elliott with wonderment. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Get down,” Elliott instructed her. “Down behind the counter.” He looked up to a second level of the store and could see a man obviously on the phone. Elliott signaled to Matt. “Check the rest of the store.”
Before Matt could return with his report, two black and white patrol cars pulled into the lot. Four officers hurried out, taking their places behind their open car doors. They pointed their guns toward the store. One of the officers pulled out a bullhorn from somewhere inside his cruiser. “Come out with your hands up,” he bellowed toward the picture window.”
Elliott looked down at the man on the floor and smiled. “Your ride’s here,” he said. “Come on, get up.”
>
He pulled the man to his feet and walked him out the door toward the waiting policemen. They all had their guns trained on Elliott and the cop with the bullhorn shouted, “You with the gun, drop it and get on your knees.”
“He doesn’t have a gun,” Elliott yelled back, gesturing at his prisoner.
“I’m talking to you,” the cop said. “You, with the gun. Drop it and get on your knees with your hands behind your back.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Elliott started to say. He hadn’t seen one of the cops coming up behind him. His next sensation was that of a million red ants biting him all at once. Elliott dropped his .38 and fell to the ground, pulling his prisoner down with him. They both twitched uncontrollably until Elliott release his grip on the man. Then only Elliott twitched.
The cop behind him stood over Elliott, the taser in his hands and two thin wires leading to Elliott, their barbs embedded into Elliott’s flesh. “Don’t move unless you want another jolt,” he warned Elliott.
The man next to Elliott got to his feet and backed away from the scene. The woman he’d been holding inside the store ran out to meet him. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Are you all right, dear?” she said.
The man brushed himself off and nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her.
Right behind the woman, Matt exited the store to check on his father. He’d already holstered his weapon after speaking to the woman hostage. He knelt next to Elliott but was hesitant to touch him for fear of getting shocked.
A third black and white patrol car pulled up behind the other two and Lieutenant Eric Anderson got out. He walked over to where he saw Matt standing and then looked down at Elliott, who was on his stomach. “What do we have here, officer?” Eric said to the cop holding the taser.
The cop gestured with the taser down at Elliott. “Looks like a hostage situation, sir. This man had a gun and he was leading that man,” he pointed to Elliott’s former prisoner, “out of the store. He refused to drop his weapon and I managed to flank him and give him a jolt. That’s all, and then you showed up.”
Matt stepped up and looked at Eric. “There was a hostage situation, all right,” he said. “At least we thought there was.”
“We?” Eric said. “Who’s we?”
Matt pointed down at his dad. “Me and Dad.”
Eric looked alarmed and glanced again at the man on the pavement. He bend down and turned him over. “Elliott,” he said. “Are you all right?”
The cop who had used the bullhorn stepped up behind Eric and said, “You know this man, Lieutenant?”
“His name’s Elliott Cooper,” Eric explained. “He’s a P.I. He’s no hostage taker.”
“That’s right,” Matt said, pointing to Elliott’s former prisoner. “We thought he was. We were just driving by and saw that man. He had that woman in his grasp when we showed up, but…”
“He’s my husband, you idiot,” the woman yelled. “I work here. Tom dropped me off at work here and was just giving me a hug before he left for his own job. Then these two clowns burst in with their guns in their hands. I thought they were going to rob the store. Our manager’s the one who called you guys.”
The officer with the taser pulled the barbs out of Elliott’s chest and stepped away. Eric helped Elliott to his feet and said, “Are you all right, Elliott?”
Elliott blinked a few times and tried to focus. “I think so,” he said. “What happened?”
The woman from the store tried to get close enough to swing at Elliott. “How dare you attack my husband,” she yelled before being pulled away again.
Eric turned back to the patrolmen in the parking lot. “You can all get back on your patrols,” he said. “I’ll handle this one from here.”
The four cops got back into their cruisers and pulled out of the parking lot. Eric remained with Elliott and Matt. He tried to calm the woman down. “It looks like this whole thing was just one big misunderstanding,” he told her. “These two men saw what they thought was a hostage situation and risked their lives to come into the store and save you.” He pointed at the woman for emphasis. “You should be grateful that they were on their toes. What if this really had been a robbery and someone had threatened to take you with them? Then you’d be glad they showed up when they did.”
The woman was no less upset, but had managed to control herself at this point. She gestured with her chin toward Elliott. “Just keep him away from us,” she barked and then pulled her husband back into the store.
The parking lot was silent for a moment before Elliott slowly turned and stared at Matt. He still said nothing and Matt began shifting from one foot to the other, nervously trying to look anywhere but at Elliott.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Matt said. “It sure looked like a robbery from where I sat.”
Elliott let out a long, extended breath and then said to Matt, “Go sit in the van. I’ll be there after I talk to Eric.”
“But Dad,” Matt said.
“The van, Matt,” Elliott repeated.
Matt turned and walked back to the van, leaving Elliott and Eric alone outside the store. Eric was obviously having a hard time keeping a straight face and that annoyed Elliott. “You think this is funny, Eric?” Elliott said.
Eric ran his palm over his mouth, trying to conceal his smile and then said, “You have to admit,” he said. “The sight of you on the ground flopping around like a fish out of water was, shall we say, amusing, to say the least.”
“How’d you like me to taser you?” Elliott said. “Then we’ll see how funny you think it is.”
Eric laid a hand on Elliott’s shoulder. “Just be glad that guy you forced out here at gunpoint isn’t pressing charges. You got off easy on this one. Let it go, Elliott.”
Elliott rolled his eyes and walked away without further comment. He opened the passenger door of the van and looked at Matt. “You can drive,” he said, trading places with his son.
Matt slid behind the wheel and started the engine. Before he pulled away, he turned to Elliott. “Dad?”
“Just drive, Matt,” Elliott said.
Matt did as he was told and they made it back to the office without another word between them. Back in the office Matt could tell that Elliott still was in no mood to talk so he didn’t press the issue. After Elliott had had time to settle down behind his desk, Matt rose from his and crossed the room to the closet. He pulled something off the shelf and closed the closet door again. It was a light bulb. He stepped over to where Elliott sat and handed the light bulb to him. Elliott held it and looked at Matt. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Nothing,” Matt said. “I was just curious. I wanted to see if it would light up.”
Elliott looked down at the bulb and then up at Matt, who was smirking now. Something about this whole situation struck Elliott’s funny bone and he couldn’t help but break out in laughter. Now Matt was laughing, too. Elliott handed the bulb back to Matt. “Put this away and let’s get back to work.”
“Okay, Sparky,” Matt said and then thought better of it. “I mean, okay, Dad.” Matt returned to his desk and turned on his computer. The screen hadn’t even come up yet when his phone rang.
“Cooper and Son,” Matt said. “This is Matt. Can I help you?”
“Matt, it’s Eric. You busy?”
“We’re swamped here, Eric,” Matt said, lying through his teeth.
“Well, then I guess you’re not free to make a few bucks then,” Eric said.
“Hold on there, Eric,” Matt quickly added. “Depends what you have for me.”
“I just need thirty minutes of your time at the station,” Eric explained. “We’re doing a lineup and we’re one man short. How’d you like to make an easy twenty bucks for trying to look innocent?”
“That shouldn’t be too hard, since I am,” Matt said. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll be right down.” Matt hung up and reached for his jacket on the coat rack. “Gotta go out for a little while,” he told Elliott.
“Eric’s got some work for me. I should be back within the hour.”
“What kind of job could Eric have for you that takes less than an hour?” Elliott said.
“I’m just filling in for one of his lineups,” Matt explained. “At least it’s something to do and it’s an easy twenty bucks.”
“Try not to look guilty,” Elliott said as Matt left the office. “And be sincere, whether you mean it or not.”
Ten minutes later Matt walked into the twelfth precinct and found Eric waiting for him at the front desk.
“Thanks for coming down, Matt,” Eric said. “We were getting desperate enough to stick one of our patrolmen in the lineup, but that usually doesn’t work out too well. The victim sometimes sees the familiar face of the cop and thinks he’s the criminal. We try to avoid that whenever we can.” He led Matt to a room down the hall. “You’ll be in the fifth position. Last guy on the right. Just stand there and turn when we tell you to turn and step forward if you’re called.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Matt said. “I’ll almost feel guilty about taking your twenty bucks.”
Sergeant Radcliff motioned to Eric, who turned to Matt and told him to take his place in the lineup. Matt and the other four men stepped up onto the low stage and took their places in line. They all turned facing the one way glass in front of them just before the bright lights illuminated the stage area.
Eric’s voice came over the speaker system. “Gentlemen, turn to your right.” The five men all turned to show their profiles. “Now turn to your left.” The five men made a full turn the other way to show their right profiles. “Face forward again.” Everyone turned and faced the glass again.
The woman on the other side of the glass furrowed her eyebrows, obviously confused. She turned to Eric. “It could be number three,” she said. “He looks familiar.”
“Are you sure about this?” Eric said. “I don’t want you to guess. Take a good look at all five men.”
The woman turned toward the glass again and studied the five faces. She turned back to Eric. “Could you tell number five to say, ‘Gimme your purse, lady’?”
Eric looked up at number five, Matt, told him to step forward, and instructed him what to say.
