On The Edge

by Daniel Cleaver

  “I’d call this stalemate, wouldn’t you, my old friend?” Cooper sneered.

  “Nah, I wouldn’t. And ya ain’t my friend.”

  “Aw, you’re going to hurt my feelings now. I thought we were pals: after all, we keep meeting like this.”

  “Ya should’ve have been jailed last time.”

  “Well, thank the diligent police officer who didn’t like the way the bust went down and I walked,” he said, grinning, then added, “Again.”

  “Snyder’s an incompetent fool.”

  “That’s the nature of the game.”

  “It ain’t a game.”

  “Oh, but it is to me. This little dance just adds to my fun, you act all moral and indignant and arrest me, then my lawyer frees me.” He chuckled at the thought.

  “Your lawyer is a scumbag just like you; worse, even. He knows full well that ya have committed these atrocities on children yet turns a blind eye so he can keep raking in your cash.”

  “He knows the rules better than you, that’s all. You keep catching me and he uses his superior skill to aid my freedom.”

  I sighed at the truth of it.

  Cooper sniggered and said, “My liar is superior to your liar. I’m afraid it’s as simple as that.”

  “Tell me, will ya ever change?”

  “Not anytime soon. I’m having too much fun. Does it make a difference?”

  “Oh yah.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m gonna kill ya, save everybody a lot of time and money.”

  He laughed. “If anyone else had said that I might be worried. But not you. You’re far too much of a straight arrow.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “And you’re forgetting I have the girl.”

  “Well, maybe she’d be better off dead.” I cringed as the girl cried upon hearing my statement.

  “I don’t believe you, come on, let’s get this round of the game over with: I’ll let you arrest me, until next time.” He moved out from behind the stairwell and placed his gun down on the floor in front of him. “A goodwill gesture. You can come out and arrest me and be the big hero, for a while at least.”

  “And my gun?”

  “What’s that?”

  “My gun, ya took it from me at your apartment.”

  Calvin Cooper smiled. “You can’t blame me for trying, can you?” He took the gun from the back of his pants and placed it on the roof in front of him. “Look, I’m being co-operative; I’ve handed over the weapons.”

  “Let the girl go.”

  “That’ll leave me without a bargaining chip, now wouldn’t it?”

  “Let her go.” I stood straight and moved toward them. “I’m unarmed, I won’t harm ya.”

  Calvin Cooper snatched her up in the air and held her over the edge of the building. The girl looked down and screamed in terror. “Stand back, cowboy, or I swear I’ll drop her.”

  “Let her go or I’ll kill ya.”

  “Then she’ll die.”

  “Yah, but you’ll be dead, too.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I thought ya were going to co-operate?”

  “I lied.” He held her out further, but his arms started to shake with the exertion. Sweat beaded on his brow. “Now step back or I’ll –”

  I had my 9 mm out of my boot in a flash and pointing at him.

  “I thought you were unarmed?”

  “I lied.”

  I heard cop sirens in the background, as did Cooper. He glanced over the parapet as the cop cars pulled up outside the building. He said. “I know this’ll sound crazy, but why don’t you just arrest me and wallow in the glory of being the big hero?”

  “Yah, that sounds crazy, all right.”

  “Why not?”

  “You killed my partner.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yah, that.”

  “That was an accident.”

  “Ya fired five bullets through the door at the police, what did ya expect to happen?”

  “Let’s call it collateral damage. Can’t we come to some sort of arrangement?”

  “Nah.”

  “So, what’re you going to do?”

  “Today, I’m gonna put ya out of your misery.”

  Calvin Cooper laughed at the absurdity. He started to swing the girl back and forth to get the momentum needed to throw her over the low wall.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  “Put her down.” I steadied my aim. I was pretty sure I could take him. I had a clear shot that’d leave the girl unharmed.

  “I’ll give you five seconds or I swear –”

  “I’ll give you three to drop her. One . . .”

  Cooper looked nervous, swung her to his full extent. “One, um, two...”

  I got a bead upon Calvin Cooper, timed that the child would be swung back into safety, albeit briefly. “Two. . .” I lowered my aim and shot him in the leg.

  Calvin Cooper was in total shock: his leg buckled and he released the girl who tumbled across the roof. Cooper staggered backward, limped back away from me. I walked forward, smirking. He backed into the low parapet wall surrounding the roof, stumbled and lost his balance. He fell over the wall but managed to grab on. He sniffled as he looked down at the one-hundred-foot drop below him and trembled. He looked at me with pleading eyes. “Help me.” He tried to heave himself, but his skinny, bony body did not have the strength. He pulled himself up and quivered with the exertion, almost made it but then sank back down. He trembled and jerked up again, but he was too weak. “Please help me,” he begged.

  I relented and held my hand out to him. He reached out and our fingers almost touched when he grinned at me, safe in the knowledge that he would walk free again. I saw the filth in his polluted soul, the worms and maggots that crawled just below the skin and I knew he would never change. I snatched my hand away, I lit a cigarette, folded my arms, and watched as his eyes registered the horror that awaited him. “No, no! Help me, you have to, please! It’s the law.”

  I leaned over and grabbed his wrist and he gave me his evil, skull-like grin as if he’d won again. I yanked him up hard, hoping to dislocate his shoulder at least, and turned my back on him while I took a deep drag on my Marlboro when I heard the chamber on his revolver click. I said, “You’d shoot me in the back?”

  “In the blink of an eye.”

  “After I just saved your life?”

  “Ironic, huh? If you hadn’t saved me you’d be free to live a long and happy life, but the do-gooder in you meant you had to save me whether you wanted to or not and now it’ll mean your own death.” He giggled. “It’s strangely funny, you’ve got to admit. You should have killed me when you had the chance, you are such a straight arrow! Say au revoir to this cruel world.”

  I took another deep pull on my cigarette and grinned as I heard the hammer of his gun click on an empty chamber, as I knew it would, as I had swiftly emptied it when he’d handed it over as a goodwill gesture.

  “Next time shoot first.” He fired on another empty chamber.

  “That’s good advice,” I said as I took the Glock from my waistband and pointed it at him and watched the color drain from his face when he knew it was the end, but I still emptied the remaining sixteen bullets into him. I made sure that no one bullet would kill him instantly: he needed to feel the pain of each one tearing through his flesh and organs. He staggered backward with the force of each hit until the last one tripped him over the parapet and I smiled in satisfaction as he fell to his death. . .

  Alleyway next to Fleapit, corner of Hollywood and Vine, CA 90028 – 17:45.

  The captain arrived in his unmarked car, one of the old dark blue Ford Crown Vics. The uniformed cops let his car pass as they taped off the area. He leaned from his window. “What’s happening?”

  “Calvin Cooper’s up on the roof. He’s snatched a kid again,” one of the uniformed cops told him.

  “Who’s that up there with him?”

  “Spooky Jackson.”
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  “Oh God, that’s all I ne –”

  Crash!

  Calvin Cooper smashed headfirst through the captain’s windshield, covering him with shattered glass.

  “Cheese and rice!” the captain yelled, making it rhyme with ‘Jesus Christ’. He jumped from the car as it rocked on its suspension from the impact.

  Five minutes later.

  The captain was apoplectic with rage. “How in God’s name did he end up with seventeen bullets in him?” he bellowed at me.

  “It would’ve been more.” I held out my hands wide as if that proved my innocence. “But I ran out of ammo.”

  “That’s not what I meant, seventeen bullets in self-defense is a tad excessive, don’tcha think?”

  “Who’s the splat?” George McGinty asked callously as he arrived at the scene.

  A ‘splat’ was a cop term for a jumper. It was department speak for a suicide from a high building, the splat being what was left of the jumper on the sidewalk. It wasn’t to disrespect the dead. It was a way of dehumanizing the situation. Gallows humor was rife in the department and it was needed. A dark remark, or joke, defused the moment. It was crucial, otherwise you’d be driven mad by the horror of it all. The captain’s glare went from me to George then back to me. “How do you explain the seventeen rounds?”

  “Please don’t say anything,” urged Sheldon. “Don’t tell him anything.”

  “I er, um. . .”

  “I er, um?” Elvis joined in. “That’s brilliant, man.”

  “I told ya, that’s all the ammo I had,” I said with a cocky grin, making George snort with laughter.

  “You are in such trouble, Spooky,” the captain snarled.

  “How so? I dispatched a child-molesting killer. Where’s the problem?”

  “Where’s the problem? You didn’t wait for backup, you used excessive force, and on top of all of that the child doesn’t back up your version of the events.”

  “She’s probably confused. He was about to throw her off the goddamned roof to her death. She should be backing me. I saved her life.”

  “You should’ve waited for backup.”

  “There wasn’t time.”

  “Well, you know the score from last time. No corroborating evidence, then you’ll be suspended while Internal Affairs compile their report and you’ll need to see the department shrink.”

  “Uhuh.”

  “It’s mandatory in a shooting. You know the rules.”

  I threw my hands in the air in defeat. “Ya know he killed Dobie Grayson? A cop. One of our colleagues?” It was falling on deaf ears. I couldn’t believe it. The captain should be shaking my hand, yet he was more concerned with covering his own ass. “I trapped Calvin Cooper, he could see there was no way out and he tried threatening the girl and then fired at me, tried to shoot me in the back, so I took him out. He’s dead. He’s nothing more than a splat. And the world’s better off without him.”

  “That’s not the point, I’ve got a –”

  “No, man. The point is that no more children will be abducted by him. No more kids raped and killed by him. I should be getting an award instead of being hounded like this.”

  We were interrupted by George McGinty shouting, “Get an ambulance! Cooper’s still alive!”

  “Maaan!” I shouted. Just my luck.

  Seventeen bullets, an one-hundred-foot drop and head first through a windshield and he was still breathing?!

  I was in deep trouble now. I kicked over a nearby trash can.

  The look on the captain’s face said, ‘Now I’ve got you.’

  Pacific Coast Highway, Pacific Palisades, CA 90272 – 19:20 – present time.

  A car horn blared and brought me back to the present. I glanced over and got the ‘bird’ again by the guy in the yellow Porsche. Yellow? What a tool.

  Elvis said, “You got away with Calvin Cooper by the skin of your teeth.”

  “Yah, well, thankfully the suspect did the decent thing and died of his injuries.”

  “You always get off, you lucky s.o.b.,” Sheldon chided. “But I don’t condone your actions.”

  “I didn’t kill him as such. I defended myself, that’s all.”

  “Against a man with an unloaded gun.”

  “Was that my fault?”

  “Yes, and you emptied an entire clip into him,” Sheldon said, acting as my conscience.

  “He was a perverted, child-molesting murderer. I have no qualms about it.”

  Sheldon whined, “You should have followed procedure. You’re meant to capture the criminal and let the jury decide the punishment – not you.”

  “And we all know that juries can be manipulated by scumbag lawyers and that previous offenses can’t be introduced as evidence.”

  Elvis said, “You know the department quack’s going to hang you out to dry.”

  “Yah, I think so, too, but what can I do about it?”

  The lights turned red and I screeched to a halt. The yellow Porsche pulled up alongside and the tool revved his engine.

  Elvis butted in. “You know you’re going to have to kill the doctor if she’s on to you?”

  “I’m not gonna kill the Doc.”

  “Hey!” shouted the Porsche driver. “Who are you talking to, you jerk?”

  I judged when I thought the lights were gonna change and switched on the nitrous. I jumped through the red light and left the Porsche standing, making the guys laugh, that was easy.

  Point made, I slowed up and let the yellow Porsche overtake as I knew he would. The slick driver looked over and gave me the ‘bird’ again.

  “Now that was just unnecessary,” Sheldon said.

  “Hmm, you know,” said Elvis. “He looks kinda like one of those scumbag lawyers.”

  He overtook a truck and I overtook him on the wrong side of the highway, I swung in front, just avoiding a head-on with something fast and red heading in the other direction. He swung alongside me and then we overtook the next truck neck and neck and side by side. “Which way does this bend go?” I asked, as we headed into it at a breakneck speed.

  “Left,” said Sheldon.

  “Right,” said Elvis.

  “Thanks a lot, guys,” I said sarcastically, then made up my mind and said, “I’m going for it.” I booted the engine once more and overtook on a 50/50 chance we might have a head-on collision.

  “Slow down!” pleaded Sheldon.

  “Don’t do it, man,” Elvis said with a gulp.

  I gunned the engine, whizzed past the Porsche, rounded the bend, and squeezed in front of a Greyhound bus coming the other way. “Oh, maaan! That was fun,” I said as I looked in my mirror and noticed the Greyhound fishtailing down the highway. Slick had had his manhood challenged and stepped on the gas. We headed into a left-hand bend. I managed to inch ahead and then I overtook him. I then yanked down hard on the wheel and ditched the Porsche onto the shoulder: he wrestled with the steering, zigzagged but could not control the supercar and in a swirling cloud of dust he crunched into the crash barrier.

  I chuckled and high-fived my ‘friends.’

  CHAPTER 8

  Medical Center, 2018 Hollywood Boulevard, Hollywood, CA 90028 – 21:13.

  Mia and I stood outside the building where Doctor Ruiz had her practice. I said, “Ya sure ya wanna do this? We’re overstepping the line, ya know that, right?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Where are the CCTV cameras?”

  “There are two, one covering the entrance and there is another one outside her office monitoring the people going in or out.”

  She acted excitedly at the prospect of breaking the law. I said, “Are we agreed on this?” We’d gone to a nearby bar, the Code-Ten, a cop hangout, run by an ex-cop, for cops when our shift finished and made this bold, crazy decision. “It could mean our jobs,” I added.

  “We agreed; she was wrong not to hand over the information because of her job. Therefore, we’d be wrong not to jeopardize ours. It’s worth the risk to get the evidence to stop the
Hangman.”

  “Yah, sure,” I said. “I don’t care about my job; I was thinking of yours. I have I.A. crawling all over me because of the last creep like this. They’re on my case and the captain is on my case: it’s only a matter of time before my career is over. I’m more concerned about yours.”

  “I can’t think of a better reason, we’ve got to get those records.”

  We entered the building, both holding buff files above our heads to shield us from the entrance camera. We walked along the carpeted corridor, passing by a multitude of potted plants, turned the corner only to find a young nightwatchman sitting at a desk reading a comic. Mia said, “Leave it to me.”

  “You sure?”

  She smiled and said, “Trust me.”

  I shrugged and she marched purposefully up to his desk as if to pass it.

  He reluctantly lowered his comic and held up a hand. “Whoa! Where do you two think you’re going?”

  “Do you know who I am?” she asked with a strong Italian accent.

  I raised my eyebrows surprised and nearly blew her cover.

  “No, ma’am, but –”