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

by Bill Bernico

  Matt drove to the twelfth precinct and walked the familiar hallway to an office he knew very well. It was Lieutenant Eric Anderson’s former office. The name on the door now said Lt. Kevin Cole. Matt knocked and opened the door without waiting for a reply. When he looked in, he saw Lieutenant Cole behind the desk and a woman seated across from him. She looked to be in her early thirties.

  “Oh, excuse me,” Matt said.

  Kevin waved him in.

  “Lieutenant,” Matt said. “I’m Matt…”

  “Matt Cooper,” Kevin said. “I remember you. Come on in.”

  Matt stepped just inside the door and closed it behind him. “I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself, but it looks like that’s a moot point. I also wanted to know if you’ve heard anything about Andy Reynolds’ replacement. All I heard so far was that it was some guy named Jerry. I didn’t get a last name. I sure hope he’s as good as Andy has been all these years. Those are some tough shoes to fill. I just hope it’s not some kid fresh out of medical school.”

  Kevin held up one hand. “You might want to stop right there and pull that big foot out of your mouth.”

  “Matt’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”

  Kevin stood now and extended his hand toward the woman. “Matt Cooper, may I introduce you to our new medical examiner, Gerry?”

  Matt turned toward the woman, who was also standing now. She extended her hand. “Geraldine Winkler,” she said. “And I’m not fresh out of medical school and yes, Dr. Reyonlds’ shoes will be hard to fill, but I’ll try my best.”

  Matt’s ears were burning and his throat was dry. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. “I, I…” was all he could manage.

  Gerry had to smile now. “Don’t worry about it, Matt,” she said. “I get that all the time.”

  Matt released her hand, turned and walked out of Kevin’s office, waited a second and then returned. “Let me start over,” Matt said. “Hi, I’m Matt Cooper and you are?”

  Gerry laughed. “Good save, Matt.”

  Matt felt his left ear. “They’re starting to cool down now,” he said, smiling, and then added, “It’s just a lot of changes to get used to all at once.”

  Kevin sat again. “Matt, as long as you’re here let me ask you about that accident on the Hollywood freeway earlier this week. I understand you were right there when it happened.”

  “I was driving Mom to the dentist,” Matt explained. “I saw the minivan swerve from the middle lane and crash into the median barrier. That woman would have hit me head on if it hadn’t been for those barriers.”

  “Did you happen to see anything peculiar immediately before the crash?” Kevin asked.

  “Peculiar? Like what?”

  Kevin held out a piece of glass with a spider web design across the face. There was also another material smeared on it that Matt couldn’t identify. “Take a look at this piece of windshield. What do you see?”

  “I see a shattered piece of glass with a yellow stain across the front.”

  “Egg zackly,” Kevin said, emphasizing the first syllable.

  Matt shot a quick look at Gerry, who just shrugged. He turned back to Kevin and shook his head. “You just lost me, Lieutenant.”

  “It’s egg,” Kevin said. “We checked the rest of the windshield and it was smeared across the driver’s side of the windshield.”

  “Egg?” Matt said. “How do you get egg on a windshield, unless…”

  “Unless someone threw it from the overpass,” Kevin said. “We might not have noticed this at all except we got a call this morning from some irate motorist who called to say that an egg hit his windshield just as he was going under the overpass on the Hollywood Freeway at Santa Monica Boulevard. This guy was an experienced truck driver who was in his own car at the time and had the presence of mind to pull over as soon as he could, without turning on his windshield wipers.”

  “Kids?” Matt said.

  “Probably,” Kevin replied. “That doesn’t make them any less deadly. They might think this is a joke, but people could get hurt or even die, as you well know.”

  “Don’t I, though?” Matt looked puzzled now. “So, did you get an APB out to try to find these little brats?”

  “Politics,” Kevin said.

  “Excuse me,” Matt said.

  “Politics,” Kevin repeated. “The mayor’s riding the captain’s back and the captain’s riding my back about that rash of recent car thefts. Most of the department is cruising the neighborhoods looking for all those stolen cars. The captain apparently doesn’t think this egg case has a high enough priority to rate our personal attention. He’s still calling it mischief.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s where I could use your help, if you’re interested and if you’re available,” Kevin said.

  Gerry finally spoke up. “I think the lieutenant is right about this one, Matt. I’d hate to have one of these egg targets end up on my table, I mean Andy’s table. It won’t be my table for another ten days.”

  Matt shrugged and spread his hands. “I guess I’m your man,” he said. “Where would you like me to start?”

  “Start with the neighborhood nearest the overpass and work your way out,” Kevin said.

  “I’m on it,” Matt said, and left the office. Matt drove to Lexington and Western, parked his car and started canvassing the neighborhood on foot. He decided to have a look at the accident site from the overpass and try to put himself in the egg thrower’s shoes. There were two bus stop benches on the sidewalk on the south side of the Western Avenue overpass. Matt leaned over the railing, looked down then crossed the street to look over the railing on the north side.

  Matt decided that whoever dropped those eggs from the overpass had to have dropped them over the south railing. It was only from that vantage point that anyone dropping eggs could have eyed up their target. Dropping them from the north side would have been hit-or-miss, since they wouldn’t have been able to see the target vehicle until it had already passed under them. It also made sense from the standpoint that it would have taken any vehicle hit by an egg that much distance to react, and Matt first noticed the minivan coming toward him on the north side of the overpass.

  Matt walked a block south on Western Avenue and found a small food market on the corner. He stepped inside and found a clerk stocking fruit on a stand near the door. “Excuse me,” Matt said, tapping the young woman on her shoulder. Startled, the woman quickly turned toward Matt, her hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to know if I could ask you a few questions.”

  The woman let out a deep breath and nodded. “Who are you?” she said. “What would you like to know.”

  Matt produced his I.D. card and shield. “Matt Cooper,” he said. “I’m looking into the accident at the overpass earlier in the week.”

  “I didn’t see anything,” the woman said. “That overpass is almost two blocks away and I was working inside the store when it happened. I heard the sirens, but I didn’t see anything.”

  “Well, what I was wondering was if you remember selling a carton of eggs to anyone that morning.”

  “Eggs?”

  “Yes, eggs,” Matt repeated. “Do you remember if any younger people bought any eggs that morning? Or maybe someone that to you didn’t look like the typical customer who bought eggs?”

  The woman shook her head. “We ran out of eggs the night before and we didn’t get another delivery until noon.”

  “That would have been a couple hours after the accident,” Matt said, mostly to himself. He thanked the woman and left the store, walking south to Santa Monica. There was another market half a block east, but Matt could see from the sidewalk that this place didn’t sell any food except non-perishable cans and bottles. He didn’t bother going inside and continued east until he got to the Santa Monica overpass. He stopped halfway across and looked over the railings from both sides of the street.

  On the east side of the Hollywood Freeway, Matt could
make out a bakery and a small market both housed in the same small building. He checked inside the market and emerged a minute later with the same results he’d gotten from the first market. No purchases of a carton of eggs. Matt decided to walk back to his car and widen his search area.

  There were three overpasses in this nine square block area—Santa Monica, Western and Fountain. It would stand to reason that this must be the work of local kids. Matt reasoned that if this was the work of juveniles, that they’d had to have bought the eggs relatively close to where they threw them…unless. Matt drove south to Third Street and then west to LaBrea. There was a large supermarket on that corner and if Matt’s hunches were right, there’d have to be at least one person involved who was old enough to drive.

  Another thought occurred to Matt. Maybe whoever was doing this was not from the area but just doing these things in an area away from their home territory, so as not to be remembered by anyone who may have seen anything that day.

  The supermarket was several miles from the Hollywood Freeway overpasses where the accidents had happened. Maybe the perpetrators didn’t want to be remembered in their own neighborhood and decided to shop out of the zone. Matt parked in the supermarket’s parking lot and walked inside, hoping to find a manager or stock person he could talk to. He stopped the first clerk he found and asked to see the manager.

  “That would be Mr. Shussler,” the clerk told Matt. “You can find him in his office up those stairs.” The clerk pointed to a metal stairway that led to a second level in the back of the store.

  “Thanks,” Matt said, heading for the stairway. At the top of the stairs, Matt knocked and waited for the door to open. A man in a white shirt and tie covered by an apron, greeted Matt at the door. Matt held up his identification and asked if he could have a few minutes of Shussler’s time.

  “What’s this about?” Shussler said.

  “Mr. Shussler, I’m working with the Hollywood Police on a series of accidents that happened this week,” Matt said. “Perhaps you read about them in the paper. They happened near freeway overpasses.”

  “Yes, I did read something about those accidents,” Shussler said. “But how does that concern me?”

  Matt looked around the office. He and Shussler were alone. “Can I trust you to keep what I’m about to tell you to yourself, Mr. Shussler?”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is, believe me,” Matt said and then waited.

  “Absolutely,” Shussler said. “Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room.”

  “Good,” Matt said, “Because we believe those accidents were caused by someone or perhaps several someones dropping eggs from the overpasses onto vehicles’ windshields, causing those drivers to lose control of their vehicles. Would you know if anyone out of the ordinary had purchased any cartons of eggs this week?”

  “Out of the ordinary?” Shussler said. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “By out of the ordinary, I mean customers who wouldn’t seem like the type to buy eggs, or maybe customers who purchased only eggs. For example, you’d expect the typical housewife to buy eggs, even if that’s all she came in for. Or she might buy eggs with the rest of her groceries. The customers I’m referring to would be maybe, young guys, teenagers, perhaps.”

  “Funny you should mention teenagers,” Shussler said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Monday morning shortly after I opened I heard a clerk on the intercom request a cleanup on aisle one, near the dairy section.” Shussler checked a note that he had scribbled that day and posted to a cork board on his office wall. He plucked the note off the board and looked at it. “That was Monday, a few minutes past eight. I was a little busy at the moment, but later that day I decided to check the video of that department.”

  “You have surveillance cameras coving the store?” Matt said.

  “You almost have to these days,” Shussler said. “You’d be surprised how many people try to cause accidents within the store so they can sue the owners. We had one lady that we caught on camera in the salad dressing aisle. She was acting suspicious so I followed her around the store on the various cameras. She took a bottle of salad dressing and dropped it in her cart. I watched as she unscrewed to cap as she was walking to the next aisle. She looked around and waited until she thought no one was looking before she poured the salad dressing on the floor and stuffed the empty bottle behind some canned goods. Then she came back down that same aisle and slipped on the salad dressing that she spilled and went down on her back, yelling in pain.”

  “It was a good thing you had her on video,” Matt said. “That probably saved you a bundle from some phony lawsuit.”

  “That old bag still walked out of court with a twenty thousand dollar settlement,” Shussler said with a bit of disgust. “The system just doesn’t work.”

  “So what good is the video surveillance then?”

  “Because now when we see someone trying to pull something like that we stop them before they get to the falling part, call the police and escort them out of the store with a promise to prosecute them if they ever some back. And that seems to be working so far.”

  “So, getting back to Monday’s video,” Matt said, “What did you find?”

  Shussler cued up the video and let Matt see for himself. The video showed two young men in the dairy section. One of them pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator only to have them taken from him by the other youth, who promptly dropped the carton on the floor. They grabbed a fresh carton and hurried to the checkout with it. They were out of the store even before the spilled carton of eggs was cleaned up.

  “Yes, I’d call that strange,” Matt said. “Is there any way you can zoom in on their faces?”

  Shussler twisted a knob on his recorder and the two faces came into closer view.

  “Can you print that image out for me?” Matt said.

  “Certainly,” Shussler said. “I can print out another one taken from the camera over the checkout if you like.”

  “I’ll take all I can get,” Matt said. “Anything you have could make it easier to find those two.”

  Shussler gave Matt the printouts that he’d asked for and showed Matt back to the door. “I hope you find them,” Shussler said.

  “And remember,” Matt reminded him, “Not a word about this to anyone.”

  Matt left the supermarket with two goals now. One was to check the neighborhood around this supermarket and see if anyone recognized the two faces. The other was to do the same thing near the accident sites. But first, he was going to stop in and see Lieutenant Cole. Maybe these two were in his records somewhere.

  Matt called Kevin on his way to the twelfth precinct and Kevin agreed to meet with him. Once he showed Kevin the printouts, Kevin looked back at Matt and shook his head. “I don’t suppose you have any names to go with these faces.”

  Matt shrugged. “Sorry, Kevin, this was all I got. I don’t suppose your department has face recognition software.”

  “Yeah, right,” Kevin said sarcastically. “That didn’t make the budget this year. Instead they opted for bulletproof vests for the officers. You know how it is with priorities.”

  “Sorry I asked,” Matt said. “Is there any other way to find them in your records with just these photos?”

  Kevin shook his head. “Nope. Looks like you’re going to have to put in a little leg work in the neighborhoods. Maybe someone will recognize one or both of them. Bring me a name or two and I’ll see what I can find on this end.”

  Matt sighed. “Well, it was worth a try. Thanks anyway, Kevin. I’ll let you know if anything pans out.” He drove back to the neighborhood around the supermarket and started canvassing some of the other stores. No one recognized either of the two kids. Matt was sure it would be a waste of time canvassing the nearby houses and got back in his car. He’d try the nine-block neighborhood near the accident sites, starting at the Western Avenue overpass.

  Matt parked his car in a nearby parking
lot and began walking east on south side of Santa Monica Boulevard, making sure he stopped in every store and business. He showed the two sets of video captures to everyone he encountered with no luck. No one recognized either of the guys. Several blocks east Matt crossed the street and headed back the way he’d come, checking businesses on that side of the street. Still no one knew the two suspects.

  At the corner of Western, Matt walked north, across the overpass and three more blocks before crossing over to the west side of the street and trying the stores on that side. He’d almost made it back to Santa Monica when he spotted a bicycle repair shop set back from the sidewalk. He’d struck out everyplace else. He had nothing to lose by giving this place a try. Matt walked in and listened as the bell over the entrance tinkled. An old man came out from a back room, separated from the showroom by a brown curtain.

  “Yes, can I help you, young man?” the proprietor said.

  Matt produced his shield and I.D. card and let the man have a look at them. “My name is Matt Cooper and I’m working with the Hollywood Police Department and their investigation into those highway accidents earlier this week. I wonder if I might talk to you for just a couple of minutes.”

  “Oh, terrible,” the old man said. “Just terrible. One of them happened just up the block.” He pointed east.

  “That was the second one this week,” Matt explained. “I was there for the first one at the Western Avenue overpass. Listen, uh, I didn’t get your name.”

  “It’s Cheney, Lloyd Cheney,” the old man said.

  “Listen, Mr. Chaney, there may be no connection, but I have to ask. Do you recognize either of these two faces?” Matt held out the video captures and Lloyd took them, studying them carefully before handing one of them back.