by Bill Bernico
Elliott held up one hand. “Don’t go to any trouble for me. I’m actually here to talk to Jim Wainright across the street. I guess Matt figured I’d have better luck with the guy since we’re about the same age and went to the same school. He’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy this any more than he would have.”
“What are you going to say to him?” Chris asked.
Elliott shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just wing it and see where it leads.”
“Good luck,” Chris said. “He’s been pretty unreasonable so far.”
“Well, this isn’t going to fix itself. I’d better go on over and turn on the old Cooper charm.”
Elliott let himself out again and walked across the street to the Wainright house, which was one house to the south and directly across the street from Bert Grimes’ single-story ranch. Elliott knocked on the door and waited. A moment later the door opened and Elliott was looking at an older version of the person he once knew in high school.
“Jim?” Elliott said.
“Yes,” Wainright said, somewhat suspiciously. “What do you want?”
“Jim, it’s Elliott. Elliott Cooper. Hollywood High School, forty-seven years ago. I know it’s been a while and I wouldn’t expect you to remember me, but…”
Wainright squinted and looked Elliott over before recognition set in. “Of course, Elliott Cooper. Now that you say the name, I can see some resemblance. But what are you doing here?”
“Can I come in, Jim?”
Jim opened his door wider and invited Elliott inside. Before Jim shut the door, Elliott pointed across the street and one house over. “My son and his family live just across the street over there. Maybe you know them. Matt and Chris Cooper and their twins, Nicky and Veronica.”
Jim shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know too many of the newer neighbors around here.”
“They’re not that new,” Elliott said. “Matt bought that house about six years ago, right after he and Chris got married.”
“I don’t get out much anymore since Beth died,” Jim said. “She was the social one between us. If you knew the neighbors, you’d understand why I like to keep to myself. Please, come in and have a seat.” He led Elliott to the kitchen table and pulled out two chairs. The men sat across from each other, momentarily at a loss for words.
Elliott broke the ice. “Jim, the reason I’m here…”
“Did Matt send you over here?” Jim said.
Elliott nodded. “Indirectly. His neighbor Bert Grimes…”
“I might have figured it was Grimes,” Jim said. “So he’s pulled you and your boy into his troubles, eh? I suppose he told you I was a real son-of-a-bitch, too. Well, maybe I am, but damn it Elliott, that idiot stole my dog. I just know it. And he won’t admit to it, either. I had the cops talk to him, but they tell me they have no proof and that there’s nothing they can do about it.”
“Is that why you put the lights up on your roof, Jim?”
Jim smirked. “You heard about that, eh? I don’t know what else I can do and I was always pretty handy with electricity and lights and whatnot. Maybe he’ll finally get enough of it and give me my dog back, or at least tell me what happened to him.”
“Did you get along with Bert before all this?” Elliott said.
Jim shrugged and spread his hands. “Like I told you, Elliott, I’m not much of a socializer to begin with so, no, I didn’t chum around with him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“And what happens if you find out that Bert really didn’t take your dog?” Elliott could see Jim trying to work out that scenario in his mind.
“I don’t know,” Jim said. “What could I do after things have already gone this far?”
“If that turns out to be the case, I’d suggest a mediator to smooth things over.”
“You?”
Elliott held up both hands. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I’m a P.I. I’m no mediator.”
“A P.I.?” Jim said. “You’re a private eye?”
Elliott nodded once. “So’s my son, Matt.”
“Did Grimes hire you to come over here and spy on me—maybe try to talk me out of keeping my light display up on my roof?”
Elliott shook his head. “Nothing like that, Jim. I guess I’m mostly here on my son and daughter-in-law’s behalf. While they personally don’t mind your little light show, they do have two small children and they don’t want to have to explain the meaning of your light display to them.”
Jim was silent for a moment, absorbing what Elliott had just told him. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he told Elliott. “But if I take it down now, Grimes will think he’s got the better of me and I just can’t have that.”
Elliott thought for a moment and then offered, “Jim, tell me a little more about your dog.”
“Why?” Jim said, obviously puzzled now.
“What if I promise to look into the disappearance of your dog for you? No charge, of course. But suppose I ask around a little and do some digging on your behalf? Maybe I can find out what happened to the dog and at best, prove that Bert Grimes didn’t have anything to do with it. At worst, if I find out he did, well, then at least you’ll have something to take to the police. You got nothing to lose. What do you say? Should I give it a shot?”
“You’d do that for me?” Jim said. “What’s in this for you?”
“My grandchildren,” Elliott reminded him. “Remember?”
“All right,” Jim said. “What do you need from me?”
Elliott pulled out his notepad and pen. “What was the dog’s name?”
“It was Sunny,” Jim said.
“What kind of dog was he, or was it a she?”
“He was a mixed breed. I found him at the humane society a few months after Beth died. He was a real comfort to me on lonely nights.”
“And how old was Sunny?” Elliott said, writing down this new information.
“Let me see, Sunny was just six years old last October.”
Elliott jotted it down. “And lastly, do you have any pictures of Sunny that I could take along? Preferably one from each side, so I could identify him coming or going.”
Jim pulled a drawer open on his coffee table and pulled out a short stack of photos. He flipped through them, weeding out three photos of the dog. He had two full-body shots from the right and the left, as well as a straight-on head shot. “Here, these are copies. You can keep them.”
Elliott slipped the photos into his shirt pocket and stood. “I don’t suppose it would matter if Sunny was wearing a collar and tags, since that would be the first thing to go if someone stole him.”
“You really think there’s a chance that you’ll find him, Elliott?” Jim said.
“I don’t see why not. Stranger things than that have happened.” Elliott headed toward the door. “Give me a few days and I’ll call you.” He held out his notepad and pen. “Write your phone number down on here, would you, Jim?”
“Thanks, Elliott,” Jim said. “And I’m sorry about your grandkids having to be affected by all this.”
“I’m going back across the street and let my daughter-in-law know what’s going on, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I just hope you find out what happened to my Sunny.”
Elliott walked back across the street to Matt’s house. He briefly filled Chris in on what he and Jim Wainright had talked about and told her that he’d let Matt know about this, too, once he got back to the office.
Matt was already back at the office when Elliott returned. He was checking several internet sites for information about the personnel department at Porter Industries, a Los Angeles company that made computer components. He looked up when Elliott entered. “Hey, Dad, how’d it go at Wainright’s house?”
“All right, I guess,” Elliott said. “What about you? Did you pick up another client?”
“Sure did, and as far as I know, it’s a first for Cooper Investigations,” Matt said. “This woman wants m
e to tail a personnel manager from Porter Industries and find out what I can about him so she can use it as leverage to land a job there. And to top that, I got held up when I was in her house. A voice behind me said, ‘Hands up, mister.’ Turned out to be a cockatiel who likes to watch cop shows on TV.”
“Sounds more like two firsts,” Elliott said. “Was he armed?”
“Very funny, Dad, but no, Larry wasn’t carrying.”
“Larry?”
“Larry Bird,” Matt explained. “This lady also has a sense of humor.”
“I guess.” Elliott said.
“Did you make any progress with Jim Wainright?”
“I think so, and you know what? I think I have a first for Cooper Investigations myself. This whole feud with Grimes is because he thinks Grimes stole his dog.”
“So I’ve heard,” Matt said.
“Wait, it gets weirder. In an effort to try to stop the feud and not subject your kids to Wainright’s light show, I told him I’d look for his lost dog. I figured if I could prove Grimes had nothing to do with the dog’s disappearance that he’d have to take the lights down and try to get along with his neighbor.”
“Sounds like we’ve got a profitable week going, Dad.”
“Uh, yeah, about that,” Elliott said. “I kind of told Wainright I wouldn’t charge him to look into the dog thing. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it on my own time and at my own expense. I promised Chris I’d do what I could to bring back harmony to your neighborhood.”
“My, aren’t you a regular Henry Kissinger?” Matt said.
“It’s a gift. I couldn’t teach it to you. You’re either born with it or you’re not. I was.”
“Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, Dad,” Matt said sarcastically. “But thanks. I’ll be glad not to have to see that damned light display anymore myself.” Matt thought for a moment and then added, “So if you’re going to do this on your off time, what are you going to do for the rest of today?”
Elliott shrugged. “Beats me. Is there any room in your case for me?”
“I don’t think so, Dad. It’s a simple tail job that may lead to me having a drink with the personnel manager, if I can ever find out who he is.”
“What was the name of that company?”
“Which company?”
“The one with the personnel manager you’re trying to find out about?”
“Porter Industries,” Matt said. “Why?”
“I thought that name rang a bell when you first mentioned it, but I couldn’t place it,” Elliott said. “But I think I may know someone there. Let me make a quick call.” Elliott sat at his desk, pulled the Los Angeles phone book off the shelf and paged through it until he found the number for Porter Industries. He dialed the number and waited. A woman answered on the second ring.
“Porter Industries,” the woman said. “How may I direct your call?”
“Would you connect me with Angela Wordell, please?”
“One moment.” She put Elliott on hold momentarily.
“This is Angela Wordell,” the next woman said when she picked up the phone.
“Yes,” Elliott said. “I’d like to put in my order for a pair of size twelve bowling shoes, please.”
“Elliott Cooper,” Angela said. “Is that you? You old scoundrel. Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven’t seen you since…”
“Since your last night at the bowling alley,” Elliott said. “I heard you landed yourself a cushy job at some big company. What’s the matter, you didn’t like schlepping drinks to bowling leagues?”
Angela laughed. “Has it been that long? Hell, I left there almost two years ago. What about you? Are you still gumshoeing?”
Elliott laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. I retired a couple of years ago. That lasted three months until I couldn’t take the boredom anymore. I’m back in the office, working with my son, Matt now.”
“Good for you, Elliott,” Angela said. “But why did you pick today to call me?”
“I was wondering if you could tell me the name of your personnel manager.” Elliott explained.
“Why, you looking for a factory job?”
“Nothing like that. I just need to know who does the hiring there, or maybe the interviewing of potential hires.”
“Hold on,” Angela said.
Elliott could hear papers rustling on the other end of the phone before Angela came back on the line. “The guy you want to talk to is Clifford Dodd. Would you like me to connect you?”
“Not just yet,” Elliott said, writing the name on his notepad and handing it to Matt. “Let me do a little more digging on my end first. Can I call you back when I get to that point?”
“Any time, Elliott,” Angela said. “Maybe we could do some catching up over a drink sometime.”
“I’d like that, and thanks for your help. It was good to hear your voice again. Take care.” Elliott hung up the phone and smiled at his son. “And that’s how it’s done.”
Matt stared at the note and then looked back up at Elliott, obviously impressed. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Any time, Mr. Cooper.”
“Why did you tell your friend that you’d get back to her after you did a little more digging?”
Elliott scratched his chin. “I thought I might talk to your client for a few minutes and kind of feel her out. I’d like to know something about her before I recommend her to Mr. Dodd.”
“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of my client hiring me in the first place?” Matt said. “I was counting on two or three days of tailing the guy. That’s four hundred, at least. How much can I make if you just recommend her to this Dodd character?”
“I didn’t say I was going to call him right away,” Elliott explained. “We could let your client sit on this for two or three days before we send her over there to see Dodd, knowing all along that he’s going to be more receptive to her than if she just walked in off the street. You’d save a little shoe leather and still get your fee, she’d probably get the job and everyone’s happy. That’s called working smarter, not harder.”
“All right,” Matt conceded. “When did you want to talk to Gladys and Larry?”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “Larry can stay on his perch and mind his own business. I’ll settle for getting to know a little more about Gladys. You want to set up a meet between us?”
Matt picked up his phone and dialed. “I’m on it,” he said. A few minutes later Matt hung up the phone and turned to Elliott. “She’s coming here at four-thirty to talk to you. What are you going to ask her?”
“I’m not really sure,” Elliott said. “I just want to make sure that if I recommend someone that she doesn’t turn out to be some kind of nut. That wouldn’t do my reputation any good.”
“You really think you can get her a job with Porter Industries?” Matt said. “Does your friend have that kind of pull?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find out, though, won’t we?”
“Okay, so a couple of days from now I get back to Gladys, who will be expecting me to know something about Clifford Dodd that she can use during the interview. What do I tell her?”
Elliott thought about it for a moment. “Maybe Angela already knows enough about him and maybe I can get her to tell me and I’ll tell you and you can tell Gladys.”
“And then Winken can tell Blinken, Blinken can tell Nod, Nod can tell Barney and...”
“What are you going on about now?” Elliott said.
“Opie the bird man,” Matt said. “Never mind.”
“I get it. The Andy Griffith Show. Clever.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Dad.” Matt said. “Listen, how’d you like to take over this case? I can always find something else to do and you’d be earning some money in the meanwhile.”
“And what will you do while I’m schmoozing Gladys?”
“Well,” Matt said, “until something else comes along, I thought I could ask around about Wainright’s dog. You’ve
already broken the ice over there so at this point it doesn’t really matter which one of us looks for the dog. And I’ve already broken the ice for you with Gladys. It just makes sense for us to switch cases.”
Elliott spread his hands. “Fine with me.”
Matt headed for the door.
“I didn’t mean right now,” Elliott said.
“We don’t need both of us here when Gladys stops by. Besides, I have a little more at stake by finding out what happened to the dog. Let me have those snapshots of Sunny, would you? I’ll check in with you later.” Matt left the office and took the elevator to the lobby. He left the building out the back door and got into his car. He knew of one place he might start in his canine search. MacArthur Park was a well-known place for people to walk their dogs. Maybe someone there saw something or knows something.
Matt took Western Avenue south to Wilshire Boulevard and followed it east to the park. He found a parking space on Sixth Street and crossed over to the park. There were several people strolling along, enjoying the solitude, but not nearly as many as there always were in the summer months. Matt saw two couples, each going in a different direction and each walking a dog, neither of which resembled the dog in the snapshot Elliott had given him.
Matt approached the first couple, who was walking a Golden Retriever. “Excuse me,” Matt said. “Sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you might have see this dog?” He pulled out the photos of Sunny and showed them to the couple.
They looked them over and shook their heads. “Sorry,” the man said. “Is that your dog?”
Matt took the photos back. “No, I’m trying to help a friend find his lost dog. Thanks anyway.” He turned around and hurried to catch up with the other couple, who was walking some breed of dog Matt had never seen before. He stepped in front of the couple, with one palm held up. “I’m sorry,” Matt said. “I’m looking for a lost dog and I’m asking all the dog owners I can find if they might have seen him.” He showed the pictures to the couple, neither of whom could help him. Matt pocketed the photos again and then looked down at the strange dog. “What kind of dog is that, if I may ask?”
The woman patted the dog’s head and said, “She’s a Bouvier.” The woman seemed to take a certain pride in telling Matt the dog’s breed.
