The Cooper Saga

Featuring Six Generations of the Cooper Family

Stories 331-340

by Bill Bernico

On Guard

The note on John’s desk was from his father, private investigator Nick Cooper.  It was a short note telling John that he’d gone out on an interview of a potential client and that he’d check back in later.  John crumbled the note up and tossed it in his waste can.  He had nothing going this morning for himself and was glad to have some alone time to himself for a change.  He’d spend a little time updated the client database files, spend a little time reading Nick’s morning paper, dangle his feet for a while but most of all he was looking forward to calling his steady girlfriend, Abby.

Abby had started out with Cooper Investigations as a part-time secretary and file clerk.  Today was her day off and John was already missing her, even though they had gone out just the night before last.  Things were starting to get serious between the two of them and John could see the writing on the wall.  He hadn’t even asked her to marry him yet, but it was just a matter of time.  He was sure when that time came that she’d say yes.

Saturn Electronics was located on Sunset Boulevard just west of Tamarind Avenue.  They specialized in the sales of surveillance equipment and rentals of televisions, radios and recorders.  The owner, Ernie Bowden was the man who had called Nick, asking for his help.

Nick wasn’t exactly sure what kind of help Bowden wanted but he was just a minute from finding out.  He pulled to a stop in the parking lot behind the store and walked in through the back door.  He stopped the first clerk he encountered and asked where he could find Mr. Bowden.  The clerk led Nick to Bowden’s office and knocked.  He let Nick into the office and left to return to his station.

“Good morning,” Nick said.  “Mr. Bowden?”

Bowden said that he was and invited Nick to sit.  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” he said.  “Would you like something to drink?”

Nick waved him off and said, “Suppose we get right down to business.  I’m sure your time is just as valuable as mine.  What is it you’d like me to do for you?”

“Mr. Cooper,” Bowden began.  “Lately my electronics inventory has been off; just a little at first, but last night they made off with more than forty thousand dollars worth.  I realize that I could report this to the police, but I really don’t want to if I don’t have to.  You see, the man I hired as a night watchman was my sister’s kid, Jeff and if I accused him of any wrong doing, I’d never hear the end of it.  Oh, don’t get me wrong; if you can get me absolute proof that Jeff had something to do with the loss, I’d toss his sorry as in jail in a heartbeat.  I just have to be sure before I go down that slippery slope.”

Nick looked puzzled.  “And just what is it you’d like me to do for you, Mr. Bowden?”  Nick said.

“Well, first of all, I’d like you to see if you could recover the stolen inventory.  I’d also like you to find out who was behind the robbery.  And lastly, I’d like you to bring me indisputable proof of whoever did this, Jeff or otherwise.  Is this something you think you can handle, Mr. Cooper?”

Nick nodded.  “Well maybe not just me, but me and my son, who is also my business partner.  I think between the two of us that we should be able to help you with your problem.”  Nick laid out the details of how he’d go about the task, and also explained his fee, which didn’t faze Bowden in the least.  “I’d like to leave the task of questioning your nephew until last so I won’t spook him into making sure the inventory is never found.”

“That’s the other thing, Mr. Cooper.  If you can get my inventory back I won’t have to file a claim with my insurance company.  If I did that, they’d surely jack up my premiums and I don’t need that extra headache on top of everything else.”  He wrote Nick a check to cover the retainer fee, signed Nick’s contract and took his copy, thanking Nick again for his help and showing him out of the store.

Nick drove back to his office and filed his copy of the contract.  He turned to John and said, “You up for a little leg work?”

John immediately stopped working on the client database and clapped his hands together just once, rubbing them together.  “You bet, Dad,” he said.  “Give me the layout and tell me where I come in.”

“All right,” Nick said.  “You may want to take notes while I explain what the store owner told me.  Last night he got a call from the store’s night watchman, who also happens to be the owner’s nephew.  Anyway, the watchman called his uncle and told him that three men had broken into the electronics store, beat the crap out of him, tied him to a chair, gagged him and made off with more than forty thousand dollars worth of merchandise.”

John stopped writing and held up his index finger.  “Dad, if he was gagged and tied up, how could he call his boss?”

“Well, it wasn’t right away,” Nick explained.  He bounced around in the chair for a while until he fell onto his side and managed to scrape his tied hands on the cement floor until the rope frayed and he could slip out of it.  He pulled his gag off his mouth, untied his legs and got to the phone.  After he called his uncle, he just sat there and waited for him to get there.”

“Didn’t this idiot call the police?” John asked.

Nick shook his head.  “No, Bowden told him not to and that he’d be right there.  Anyway, Bowden got to his store shortly after midnight and was met at the back door by his nephew, Jeff.  Bowden could see right away that Jeff had been beaten pretty good.  He made Jeff promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone about this incident.  Well, the next morning he called me and I drove over to his store to get the story.”

John laid his pencil down and said, “And this is where we come in, I take it.”

Nick nodded.  “You take it correctly.  Now, the first thing we need to do is try to recover the stolen merchandise.  Bowden doesn’t want to have to deal with his insurance company if he doesn’t have to so that will be our priority; recovery of the stolen merchandise.  Once we have that we can go after the robbers.”

“Where do we start looking?” John said.  “It’s a pretty big city out there.”

“Well, we know the stuff still has to be in town,” Nick said.  “They’re surely not going to risk getting caught with a truck load of electronics.  My guess is that it’s stored somewhere around here.  Maybe they’ll look it all over first and decide if they want to fence some of it or sell some of it themselves.  How about if we start with a couple of our best informants and branch out from there?”

“Let’s go,” John said, slipping his jacket over the .38 caliber revolver in his shoulder holster.  He and Nick rode the elevator to the lobby and exited through the parking lot door.  They both got into John’s sedan with Nick sitting in the passenger seat to navigate while John drove.  John drove out onto Cahuenga Boulevard and headed south to Sunset.

Nick told him to turn left.  “I think I know where Joey will be this time of day.”  Joey was Joseph Fuller, one of Nick’s most reliable informants.  “Pull up here,” Nick said, gesturing with his chin at Lou’s Bar.  The two of them got out and let themselves into the dark tavern.  They both stood just inside the door for a minute, letting their eyes adjust to the low light.  A moment later Nick elbowed John and said, “That’s him over by the jukebox; come on.

Nick eased up behind Joey as he was busy deciding which song to play next.  He tapped Joey on his shoulder and the man jumped, startled.  With fists raised in front of him, he turned around to see Nick standing there.  “Nick Cooper,” he said.  “That’s a good way to get yourself beat up or shot.  Don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”

“I was just walking regular,” Nick protested.  “You were just too engrossed in the jukebox.  Anyway, come on and sit down and let me buy you a beer.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Joey said and just then noticed John watching the proceedings.  Joey stared at him and said, “What do you want?”

Nick held out his hand to keep Joey from pushing John.  “Joey, settle down; this is my son, John.  He works with me in my P.I. business.”

Joey’s face eased and he managed a forced smile, brushing off imaginary lint from John’s shoulder.  “Sorry kid.”

“Forget it,” John said and found and empty table for the three of them.  He and Joey sat while Nick went to the bar and ordered a tap beer for Joey and two glasses of Diet Pepsi.  Nick set the beer in front of Joey and sat, dividing the Pepsis between himself and John.

Joey took a long sip of his beer and wiped his upper lip with his finger.  “Man, that goes down painless,” he said and sipped again.  He set the glass down and looked across the table at Nick.  “All right, no one gets any beer for free.  What do you want?”

Nick took a sip from his Pepsi and said, “What have you heard about a heist from last night?”

“Go on,” Joey said.

“A heist from the electronics store just up the street,” Nick explained.  “I hear tell they got away with a pretty big haul.  What have you heard?”

Joey picked up his beer glass and chuckled.  “Now keep in mind I’m not saying I know anything about any heist, but if I did, information like that is worth more than one lousy beer.”

Nick opened his wallet, withdrew a twenty dollar bill and held it out for Joey to see.  Joey reached for it, but Nick pulled it back before Joey could grab it.  Nick tore the bill in half and handed half of the bill to Joey.  “That won’t do you any good without this other half, so spill.”

Joey snapped the half bill and leaned in closer to Nick.  “I heard about it even before they got the stuff unloaded.  Word on the street is that they’re checking into a couple of fences for the TVs and such.  I heard tell that they’re planning on unloading the surveillance equipment on the other side of the border.”  He reached for the other half of the torn twenty but Nick still held it just out of his reach.

“How is it you just happen to know so much about these kinds of things?” John asked.

Joey turned to look at John.  “Who’s talking to you?  I was talking to Nick so butt out.”

John was taken aback and decided to just let Nick do all the talking.  He held up both palms toward Joey.  “Well pardon me.”  He pointed his two upturned palms toward his father.

“Actually,” Nick said.  “I was just about to ask you the same question.  Where’d you hear about this?”

Joey sneered like Elvis and said, “I know some guys who don’t live so long asking questions like that.  Let’s just say that the neighborhood grapevine can sometimes take in more information in one night than you could gather in a week.  Now hand over that other half of the twenty and maybe I’ll tell you who was in on it.”

Nick wasted no time in giving Joey the other half of the bill.  “What did you hear?”

Joey leaned in even closer and said in a whisper, “The head honcho was a guy named Fowler, Vince Fowler.  I never heard the names of his three accomplices.”

“Three?” Nick said.  “I heard it was only three guys altogether.  I haven’t heard anything about any fourth guy.”

“Hey,” Joey said, holding the two pieces of the twenty together, visions of cellophane tape dancing in his head.  “You can take it for what it’s worth, but you mark my words, by the time you and Junior Sleuth here are finished, you’ll be dealing with four guys.  But that would be your job to find ‘em.”  Joey stood, shoved his chair back and stepped over to the bar with his newfound wealth.

“We might as well go,” John told his dad.  “Looks like Joey has the rest of his night mapped out.”

Back in their car, John started the engine but didn’t pull out into traffic.  He watched as Nick fired up his laptop and did an Internet search for Vincent Fowler.  Fowler turned out to be a two-time loser from Los Angeles who had just been released from his second prison stretch several weeks earlier.  His last known address before he was sent away was a rooming house in downtown L.A.  Nick doubted Fowler still lived there, unless the turnover was so great that a room became available by the time he was released.  It was worth a look so Nick instructed John to head for the downtown area.

They got there thirty minutes later and were glad that they were both wearing their underarm holsters.  The neighborhood sent shivers up John’s back and even Nick was feeling a little uneasy here.  John wasn’t even sure he wanted to leave his car here on the street unattended but didn’t have much choice.  He and Nick locked the car and headed up the stairs of the fleabag rooming house.  The web search listed room seven as Fowler’s place of residence.

The stairway was dark, save for a single light bulb that hung from a wire at the top of the stairs.  The Coopers took just three steps to the left before they realized that room number seven would be found in the opposite direction.  John and Nick stood on either side of the door as Nick knocked and waited for a reply.  They could hear movement inside but no one was coming to the door right away.

He knocked again and someone trying to convey a sleepy voice called out, “All right, all right, I’m coming; keep your shirt on.”  The door opened and a man wearing a strapped tee shirt and undershorts, with three-day stubble on his face said, “Yeah; what do you want?”

“Vince Fowler?” Nick said.

“Who wants to know?” The man said in a voice that did not exude friendliness.

Nick stared back at the man and said, “Are you Vince Fowler or ain’t you?”

“Yeah, so what,” Fowler said.  “Now state your business or blow.”

“Can we come in?” Nick asked as John stepped closer to the opening.  He flashed his badge and I.D. card, being careful to keep his thumb over the private part of the card before returning it to his pocket.

Fowler sighed and stepped aside wordlessly.

Nick stepped in with John close behind him.  Fowler closed the door and asked Nick what he wanted.  There was impatience in his voice.  “Are you here alone?” Nick asked.

Fowler didn’t answer so Nick nodded at John, who drew his revolver and started to check the bathroom, which was the only other room in this dump.  John tried the door knob.  The door was locked so he knocked and called out, “Come on out of there with your hands up; you’re covered.”

A few moments later John could hear the toilet flush and the lock click before the door opened and a dirty low life woman stepped out and took her place next to Fowler.  John looked at the woman with the dirty blonde, greasy hair and no makeup.  She was wearing only an equally dirty slip.  “Let’s see some I.D.,” John demanded.

She shrugged and spread her hands as if John should know she didn’t have any pockets in the slip.  She gestured toward a dirty pair of jeans draped over a chair and gave John a questioning look.

“Go get it,” John said, but if you pull out anything other than your I.D.”  He accented his sentence by waving his revolver in her face.  She pulled something out of the back pocket and handed it to John, who looked it over.  “Gail Sommers; is that your real name and is this address current?”

“The name is real, but I don’t live there anymore; I live here now with Vince.  You got a problem with that, cop?”

John let her go on thinking he was a cop so she’d be more apt to co-operate.  John and Nick exchanged a knowing glance and Nick pulled Vince over to one corner of the room while John took Gail to the opposite corner to question her.  When they had finished with their questions, John and Nick thanked the couple for their co-operation and turned to leave.  Nick looked back at Vince and said, “We may want to question you again so don’t leave town; understand?”  He and John left the room, feeling like they both needed a bath.

When they got back to the street, John saw two young men running away, carrying something he couldn’t identify.  Then he looked at his car and said, “Son of a bitch; they took my wheel covers.”

“Just be glad we weren’t in there much longer,” Nick said, “or your car would be sitting up on blocks and stripped.  Come on; let’s see what happens now.  Pull around the corner and wait.”

John parked around the corner where they could keep an eye on the rooming house entrance.  It wasn’t more than five minutes later that Vince and his girlfriend came down the steps and started walking east in a hurry.  Nick opened his door and said, “You follow them with the car but don’t let them see you.  I’m going to follow on foot and see where they go.”

Nick let Vince and Gail get half a block ahead of him before he fell in behind them.  It seemed like they had picked up their pace now and Nick had to hurry so as not to lose them.  They had gone just another block when they turned and entered another slum apartment building.  Nick hurried up to the front door but stayed out of sight, giving the couple a minute or so to find who it was they had come to see.  Nick let himself into the building and checked the name tags on the mailboxes, making a note of each name in his notepad before stepping back outside and looking up to see which light came on.  It was the last apartment on the right on the second floor.  He noted this information also.

He turned and saw John sitting in his car down the block and hurried to join him.  He slid in next to his son and told him what he had observed.  “Whoever they went to see was on the second floor on the right.  I got the tenant’s names, but I’m not sure which name goes with which apartment.  But at least now we have some place to start looking when we pay Steve a visit tomorrow morning.  Steve was Lieutenant Steve Stone of the Hollywood division of the L.A.P.D.  Nick figured he could mask his request to look up the names in his notepad and see if any of them had any connection to Vincent Fowler.  If so, they could be the accomplices in the electronics store burglary.

“But what if they suddenly decide to take off?” John asked.  “Shouldn’t we grab them before that happens?”

Nick shook his head.  “Are you forgetting that we are not the cops that those two assumed us to be?  Besides, right now we don’t have anything to go on except for Joey’s word, for whatever that’s worth.  No, I think we need to build a case before we go off half-cocked.”

John nodded acknowledgement and pulled away from the curb.  He made it back to Hollywood twenty minutes later and dropped Nick off in the parking lot to get his car.  “I guess I’ll see you in the morning, Dad,” John said and drove home.

The following morning when John came in to work, he found Nick on the phone, apparently talking to Lieutenant Stone.  A few minutes later Nick thanked Stone and hung up.  He turned to John and said, “Don’t take your jacket off; we have to stop in at the Twelfth Precinct.  I asked Steve if we could have a look at the statewide criminal database.  I told him it was for a case we were working on without mentioning Ernie Bowden or his electronics store burglary and he said sure.  I told him if it looked like the case was going to turn into a police matter that I’d fill him in later.  He was fine with that.  Come on; let’s get over there and take a look at Fowler’s record.”

Lieutenant Stone led Nick and John down the hall to an empty room with a desk and a computer with access to the statewide criminal database and told him to let him know when they were finished.  He walked back to his office, leaving the Cooper’s to do their searching.

It took Nick just two minutes to find Fowler’s prison record.  He clicked on the link for known accomplices and read a list of nearly a dozen names.  Nick withdrew his notepad from his pocket and flipped it open to the names he’d written down from the mailboxes the night before.  Beneath Fowler’s name Nick saw two names that also appeared in his notepad, along with another familiar name—Gail Sommers.  Nick circled the two names in his notepad and looked at John.  Now we’ve got four names and Joey told us there’d be four people involved in the burglary.”

John looked at Nick’s notepad and then up at the computer screen.  “Are you thinking that Vince’s greasy girlfriend was the fourth one?”

“I don’t see why not,” Nick replied.  “If you saw her dressed in those dirty jeans and some equally dirty jacket with a baseball cap on her head, you might take her for a guy.”

John shook his head.  “Boy, there’s one baseball cap I won’t want on my head.  Just standing that close to her in that rooming house was enough to take my breath away.  I thought for a minute there that I was going to puke.”

“So, in a word, you would describe her as breathtaking?” Nick said with a sly grin.

“Yeah, right, Dad.” John said.  “Now do we have enough to bring Steve in on this?”

“Not just yet,” Nick said.  “I think we need to find some of the stolen electronics items first.  We got what we need here.  How about if we start checking a few of the area pawn shops and then start asking some of the known fences?  They may not have tried to unload anything at the pawn shops, but I know of at least one pawn shop owner who can turn us on to a fence or two.”

Nick dropped his notepad back into his pocket and walked with John back to Stone’s office.  He knocked and stuck his head in just long enough to thank him for the use of the database and to tell him that it was a dead end.  He and John hurried back to John’s car—the one with the missing wheel covers—and drove off to the first pawn shop.

When they got to the pawn shop, they noticed it was closed.  Nick sighed and said, that’s right, all the pawn shops would be closed this weekend for the holiday so they couldn’t have gotten rid of any of the merchandise at any pawn shop.  That’s good for us; now we can concentrate on the other leads and I know right where I’m going to start.”  Nick looked at the two extra names on his notepad again and told John to drive to the first one’s address.  It was the same place where Nick had followed Fowler and his girlfriend the night before.

This time both Coopers got out of the car and walked up to the apartment building.  From seeing the front apartment lights come on the night before, Nick knew which apartment he was looking for.  The two names on the mailboxes downstairs that matched up with the two names from the L.A.P.D. crime database were Lee Burke and Mitch Cantrell.  Nick and John soft-footed up the stairs and turned right down the hall, stopping in front of apartment number three.  They took up their places aside the door and Nick knocked.

“Let me in,” Nick said, changing his voice.  “It’s Vince; hurry up.”

The ruse worked because a moment later the door opened and two dirt bags looked out to see two guns pointed in their faces.  Nick and John backed the two men into the apartment and closed the door behind them.

“Who are you and what do you want?” the taller of the two men said and dared take a step closer to Nick, who pulled the hammer back on his revolver, stopping the man in his tracks.

“I got ‘em covered,” Nick said to John.  “Take a look around.”

John slipped his .38 back into his holster and stepped past the two men.  It was a small apartment with just three rooms; the living room, one bedroom and a bathroom.  John started in the bedroom and stopped at the open doorway.  He whistled and then called back to Nick.  “Back here, Dad,” he said.

Nick gestured with his gun at the bedroom.  “Come on, you two; let’s go see what John found, shall we.”  Keeping the two men in his sights, Nick made then stand facing the wall while he looked into the bedroom.  It was stacked with boxes that had pictures of TVs on the front while other boxes featured pictures of radios, turntables, cell phones and other high-priced electronic merchandise.  He turned to look at John.

“Now do we have enough to get Steve involved?” John asked.

“You bet we do,” Nick said and then walked the two men back into the living room, instructing them to sit on the ratty sofa.  He stared at the taller of the two and said, “Let me guess; you would be Mitch Cantrell and your boyfriend there would be Lee Burke.  Well, you can thank your buddy Vince for ratting you both out.”  He was lying, but they didn’t need to know that.

“What that no good….” Burke said.  “Just wait until I get my hands on that rat bastard.”

John stepped in now with, “And let’s not forget about Gail.  She helped Vince finger you both.  You may not be able to get at her in the women’s prison, but you both can have a heartfelt reunion with Vince when you all go to prison.”

“Hey,” Cantrell protested. “This wasn’t our idea.  Jeff set the whole thing up.”

“Jeff?” Nick said.  “We don’t know about anyone named Jeff; just you four.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Cantrell said.  “Jeff Galloway, the security guard at that store, put this whole job together and that son-of-a-bitch had the nerve to take forty percent of the haul.  He left the other sixty for us other four to split.”

“Well,” John said, smiling.  “Now you can have a real riot in prison.  The three of you can give Mr. Galloway his forty percent beating when you see him.”  John couldn’t help but laugh at the ineptness of these amateur burglar wannabes.

Nick got on his phone and hit the speed dial key for Lieutenant Stone’s cell phone.

“Stone.”

“Steve, it’s Nick Cooper.  The funniest thing just happened.  John and I were on a case of our own when we came across two persons of interest in a fleabag apartment on the other side of town when we came across a stack of boxes with electronics labels on them.  I think we may have stumbled onto stolen merchandise and I just thought you’d want to know about it.”  He gave Stone the address and apartment number and told him he and John would wait there until he arrived with backup.  Stone thanked him and told Nick to sit tight.

Nick disconnected the call and made another quick call to Ernie Bowden.  “Mr. Bowden, it’s Nick Cooper.  I just thought you’d want to know that we recovered your stolen merchandise.  You may or may not be glad to know that your nephew, Jeff was involved, so don’t let him out of your sight until the police get there.”

“Is that so?” Bowden said, turning to look at his nephew sitting at the front door of the store in his uniform.  “Thank you, Mr. Cooper.  I’ll look forward to wrapping this whole thing up.  Please, just send me your bill.”

“Just a minute, Mr. Bowden; don’t mention anything about my involvement in this case or the burglars may just walk on a technicality.”

Bowden agreed to keep this transaction to himself and hung up.

Nick disconnected the call and turned to John with a wink.  “Success,” he said, still keeping his gun trained on the two idiots.

Lieutenant Stone and two uniformed officers arrived several minutes later and John let them in.  He led them to the bedroom stash before they all gathered in the living room again.

“Darndest thing,” Nick said.  “John and I were on a completely unrelated case that led us here.  Talk about being in the right place at the right time.  They’re all yours, Steve.”

“I hadn’t gotten any reports about any stolen electronics in the last few days,” Stone said.

“Well, you probably will,” Nick said and then added, “So if there’s nothing else you need from us, we have to be going.  We’re still on our other case.”

“Sure, Nick,” Stone said.  “We can handle it from here and thanks for the assist.”

Nick and John left the apartment and returned to their car.  Nick turned to his son and said, “I guess you can’t make it any easier than that.  You want to head back to the office?”

“I’ll drop you off there,” John said.  “But I think I’ll stop home first.  Maybe it’s all my imagination, but I itch and I need to take a shower after being in the apartment.”

Nick had to laugh.  “You know, that’s not a bad idea.  How about dropping me at my place?  I think I could use a shower, too.”

Bonus Time

Nick Cooper looked across the room at his son, John and said, “I swear I didn’t know things were going to be this dull when I convinced you to join me here in the private investigations business.”

“What are you worried about, Dad,” John replied.  “You talk like you think I’m getting ready to bail on you.  Relax, Dad; I don’t have any such ideas.  All right, now that you’ve given me the big buildup, what’s the case you obviously have for me but are hesitant to give me?”

“I sure can’t put anything over on you, can I?” Nick said, getting up from his desk and stepping over to John’s desk.  He handed John a sheet that he’d torn from his yellow legal pad.  It had a name, address and telephone number written on it, along with one line describing the nature of the case—Insurance Fraud.  There was also a bust shot of the subject, obviously taken with a cheap camera and paper clipped to the sheet.

John took the paper from Nick, gave a quick once over and sighed.  “Let me guess,” he said.  “Some schmuck is claiming that he hurt his back at work and wants to sue their insurance company for enough money to retire on; am I right?”

“In a nutshell,” Nick agreed.  “Our client, or should I say, your client is a man named Dallas Taylor who is the president of Taylor Industries.  It’s a factory in the valley that makes pressed particle board furniture kits.  You know; the kind that comes in a box with some obscure instructions; insert dowel A into panel B, etc.  “Now all you have to do is tail the guy and…”

“…and get pictures of him using a jack hammer and wheeling a wheelbarrow full of cement across town,” John said, finishing the sentence for his father.  “Nothing special about this one, is there?”  He sighed heavily again and stood, plucking his jacket from the coat rack behind his desk and heading for the door.  “Don’t wait up for me, Dad,” John said and left the office without another word.  He walked to the end of the hall and rode the elevator to the lobby, exiting through the back door to the parking lot.

Nick stood at the south window behind the leather sofa and looked down at Hollywood Boulevard.  A minute later he could see John’s car rounding the corner from Cahuenga onto Hollywood and driving east.  He felt just a little guilty about pawning that boring job off on John but he suspected that he’d get over it soon enough and sat down behind his desk again with the morning paper.

At the corner of Hollywood and Vine, John sat waiting for the light to change and took the time to glance at the name and address on the yellow sheet again.  It held the name of Patrick Dennis Logan with an address on Fountain Avenue approximately nine blocks to the south.  When the light turned green again, John turned south onto Vine and continued on to Fountain Avenue, turning east again for two blocks and pulling over to the curb.  Logan’s address put him on the corner of Fountain and El Centro in a salmon colored apartment building with six units.  Logan lived in the ground floor apartment just north of the front door.

John just sat there for a moment, formulating his plan.  It only took him a minute to come up with a pretty good ruse and he got out of his car and stepped behind it, opening his trunk.  He pulled a visored cap; a shirt with “Leonard” stitched on the pocket and a clipboard out and closed the trunk again.  John slipped the shirt on over his polo shirt, set the cap on his head and walked up to the front door of the apartment building, holding his clipboard and a pencil at the ready.  He verified Logan’s apartment number on the bank of mailboxes in the lobby.  He also took note of another name of a man who lived down the opposite end of the hall and then walked down the hall to apartment number four and rang the bell.  When the door opened, John recognized the man from the photo attached to his yellow sheet that was now lying on the front seat of his car.

John started right in with, “Excuse me, but I’m looking for Jack Berger.  Do I have the right apartment?”

Logan shook his head and was obviously annoyed at having been disturbed.  “You got the wrong apartment, Mac.  Jack lives in the last apartment at the opposite end of this hallway.”  He pointed to the south and added, “Last door on the left.”  Without waiting for his visitor to reply, Logan closed his door and went about his business.

“Thanks,” John said, to the closed door and moved away down the hall.  When he got to the lobby he paused and just stood there, just in case Logan was watching out his front window.  After a few minutes, John left the building and got back into his car, which was parked around the corner.  It wouldn’t do to have Logan notice his car now and then possibly again later when John might have to follow the man elsewhere.  He returned the shirt, cap and clipboard to the trunk and slid in behind the wheel again and just waited.  He didn’t have to wait long.  Less than fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and Patrick Dennis Logan exited to the sidewalk and began walking north on El Centro and then west on Fountain.  From what Nick could see, this man wasn’t walking with a limp and didn’t seem the least bit bothered by a bad back.  In fact, it looked to John as if this guy was walking with a bit of a spring in his step; like a man on a mission with a purpose.

John started his car and slowly followed being Logan, being careful not to let the man see him.  After three blocks, Logan headed south at the corner of Vine and Lexington.  Logan continued walking for another block and a half before he turned into the front yard of a gaudy bright purple house that would have looked out of place in any neighborhood, with the possible exception of some circus back lot.  It was separated from the street by a three foot high wrought iron fence that matched the wrought iron bars on its windows.  John sat quietly in his car a safe distance away and watched as Logan slid the lock on the front gate aside and let himself into the yard.

Logan knocked on the front door and stood back, waiting for someone to answer.  John raised the binoculars to his eyes and studied Logan’s face when the door opened and a middle-aged blonde woman stood there smiling at him.  She held out both arms and welcomed her visitor into them before planting a kiss on his mouth and holding it for several seconds.

Nick had to smile at the friendly reunion unfolding at the woman’s front door.  He looked at his watch and made a note of the time on his yellow legal sheet and then just sat back and waited for Logan to come back out again.  He stayed inside for more than an hour before emerging with a satisfied look on his face.  The woman who had welcomed him inside earlier stood there at the door in her sheer nightgown, holding it closed in front of her.  Nick held up his thirty-five millimeter camera with the telephoto lens and snapped half a dozen pictures of the couple and the house, making sure to get the house number in the shot.  To Nick’s surprise, Logan didn’t leave the way he’d come, but rather stepped into the back yard and disappeared from sight for a minute.  When Logan reappeared he was carrying an armful of cut firewood and brought it back in through the front door before leaving for good a minute later.  John guessed that was the price Logan had to pay for his afternoon delight.

John got the whole encounter from the front door on video.  Now all he had to do was go and see Mr. Taylor and present the evidence to him and this job is done.  First he’d stop by his own office and print out the photos he took and then transfer everything to a jump drive for the client.  Nick was still sitting behind his desk when John walked in; all smiles.

“From that look on your face,” Nick began, “I’d say that you had a successful case.”  He curled his fingers inward toward himself and said, “Come on; details.”

John told his father about what he had witnessed and the evidence he had collected.  “I figure just the video of Patrick Dennis Logan walking into that house with his arms full of fire wood should be enough to discredit his disability claim.  I’m going over to see Mr. Taylor as soon as I print these photos out and make up an evidence jump drive for him.”  It took John just a few minutes to gather everything he’d need for this case.  “Wish me luck,” he told his father as he left the office.

Dallas Taylor was in his office when John arrived.  Taylor’s secretary announced John’s arrival and was shown to Taylor’s office right away.  Taylor invited John to sit across from his desk and asked what John had brought him.  John handed over the dozen or so photos and gave Mr. Taylor a moment to go through them before he stood and leaned over Taylor’s desk with his cell phone.

“What have you got there?” Taylor asked.

“I also got some video of Mr. Logan with an arm full of cut firewood,” John explained, letting the video run.  “He doesn’t seem to have any problem lifting and carrying that fifty pound pile of wood, does he.”

As the video played, Taylor took the phone from John’s hand and looked closer at it.  He turned to John and said, “Would you run that back ten or fifteen seconds for me; I think I noticed something else on it.”

John took the cell phone and ran the video back before handing it back to Taylor.  “What did you see?”

Taylor turned sideways and shared the video screen with John.  “Right there,” he said.  “Can you freeze that picture of the woman at the door?”

John tapped the Pause button and then looked back at Taylor, who was smiling a wide grin by now.  “What is it, Mr. Taylor?”

“I got him,” Taylor said.  “He might be able to talk his way out of the load of fire wood, claiming it was all light weight balsa, but just look at the face on that woman.”

John looked puzzled and then turned to Taylor.  “I don’t get it.”

“Mr. Cooper,” Taylor said.  “You not only got proof of Mr. Logan’s lie about being disabled, but you also got proof of him and that woman, who, by the way, just happens to be the wife of Logan’s foreman, Bob Abbott.  Yes, this will do very nicely; thank you so much.”

“Am I still missing something?” John said.

“Bonus time, Mr. Cooper,” Taylor said.  “As soon as I get Patrick Logan in here and present him with this evidence, he’ll not only drop his workman’s compensation claim against us, but he’ll do whatever I say from now on.”

John smiled and nodded.  “All part of the full service.”  Mr. Taylor wrote out a check for John’s services and included a healthy tip as well.  John thanked him for his business and left the office.

As soon as John was gone, Dallas Taylor called Patrick Logan at home and asked him to come to his office so he could settle up with his employee.  Logan smiled to himself, seeing dollar signs in his immediate future.  He made it into the Taylor Industries office half an hour later and asked to see Mr. Taylor.

“Go right in, the secretary told him.  “Mr. Taylor is expecting you.”

Patrick Logan let himself into Taylor’s office and found Dallas Taylor standing to meet him with a stern look on his face.  “You wanted to see me?” Logan said.

Taylor gestured toward the chair opposite his desk and invited Logan to sit.  “Mr. Logan,” Taylor began.  “I thought it was time that we put this whole workman’s compensation issue behind us and moved on.  I think I have a solution that will work for all parties concerned.”  He brought out the photos of Logan carrying the armful of fire wood and handed them to the man.  “What have you got to say about this, Mr. Logan?”

Logan dismissed the evidence, tossing the photos back onto Taylor’s desk.  “That was just a bundle of light weight balsa wood; it weighed practically nothing.”

“Let me ask you,” Taylor went on.  “Did you get along with your foreman, Mr. Abbott while you were working under him?”

“Bob?” Logan said.  “What does he have to do with any of this?”

Taylor produced the jump drive John had given him and inserted it into his laptop computer.  He turned the screen to face Logan and let the video run.  A minute later Taylor looked to Logan for a reaction.  “Mr. Logan, were you aware that the woman in this video is someone named Brenda; Brenda Abbott?  Hey, wait a minute, your foreman’s last name is also Abbott; what a coincidence.”

Patrick Logan’s ears were getting hot and he started to squirm in his seat.

Taylor continued with, “From what I understand, the Robert Abbott that works for me is a jealous man; a man who is also a martial arts expert.  What do you suppose he’d do if he found out about any of this?”

Logan exhaled deeply, stood and said, “Mr. Taylor, how about if we just forget all about this silly workman’s comp claim and I get back to work?”

“A splendid idea, Mr. Logan,” Taylor agreed and closed the laptop on his desk.

Patrick Logan stood now and headed for the office door, pausing to look back at Dallas Taylor.  “And I trust this will go no further than this office.”

“No one else needs to see any of this,” Taylor said.  Patrick Logan opened the door and just before he left he looked back and nodded at Taylor, who said, “Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Logan.”

“Yes sir?”

“You’re fired; now get out.”  Taylor had a security guard waiting outside of his office and instructed him to escort Mr. Logan off the property.

The office door closed and Dallas Taylor sat back down behind his desk, put his feet up on the edge, interlocked his fingers behind his head and smiled widely to himself.

Life was good.

In The Closet

Sergeant Mike Becker of the L.A.P.D. had just called in to the station to request a break for himself and his partner, Officer Eddie Solomon.  They had decided between themselves to grab a quick sandwich at one of the many outdoor stands situated around the Hollywood area.  The one that was closest to their present location was one called Pig on a Bun and specialized in pork chop sandwiches.

As the two cops sat at one of the outdoor picnic tables enjoying their meal, the police radio in Becker’s black and white squawked.  “One Adam Nine come in,” the dispatcher’s voice said.

Becker stepped away from the table and grabbed the mic through the open front window.  “This is One Adam Nine, go ahead.”

“One Adam Nine see the man about a dead body at the south entrance to Griffith Park.  One Adam Nine your call is code two.”

“Copy that, dispatch,” Becker said and then hurried back to the table where he picked up the remainder of his sandwich and told his partner that they had a call to go to.

“Where are we going?” Officer Solomon asked.

“South entrance to Griffith Park,” Becker said.  “Something about a dead body found nearby.”  He slid behind the wheel and drove east on Sunset until he came to Western Avenue and took that north.  Just north of Hollywood Boulevard, Western Avenue turned right and became Los Feliz Avenue.  The south entrance to Griffith Park was just up ahead a few hundred feet.

When they got to the entrance at Fern Dell Drive, Becker could see a man standing just off the drive, waving his hand when he saw the patrol car approaching.  Becker rolled down his window and pulled up next to the citizen.  “Are you the one who called into the station about a dead body, sir?”

“I sure did,” the man replied.  “I can take you right to it if you like.”

Becker unlocked the rear door and told the man to get in.  “What’s your name, sir?”

“William Baird,” the man replied, “But you can just call me Bill.”

They drove north on Fern Dell for a hundred yards when Bill Baird pointed over Becker’s shoulder and said, “Pull up right here; it’s over there just behind those bushes.”

The two officers and the man got out and started walking to the east with Baird leading the way.  Several yards further, Baird stopped and pointed down at a spot just a few more feet ahead of him.  “Right there,” he said, pointing to a bony hand sticking up out of the dirt.  He started to bend over, reaching for the bony hand when Becker stopped him.

“Mr. Baird,” Becker said, “Please step back away from the scene.  We can’t have you contaminating a possible crime scene.”

Baird took several steps back and let the police do their job.  A few other people started coming closer to see what the police were doing there.  Becker looked at Officer Solomon and told him to keep the curious onlookers back while he took a closer look at the scene.  Becker knelt down next to the bony hand sticking up out of the dirt and then noticed a large gathering of maggots squirming next to the fingers.  He stood up immediately and backed away, calling in to the station for the crime lab crew and the coroner, Dr. Adam Kline to meet him at the scene.

Two more vehicles pulled up behind the black and white patrol car several minutes later.  Two plain clothes men emerged from one of the cars and walked directly over to where Sergeant Becker stood watch over the scene.  “Right behind me,” Becker said and stepped aside.

Right behind the crime lab vehicle a white van pulled up and stopped.  The side of the van was lettered with Medical Examiner painted on the side.  Dr. Kline and two of his assistants got out and joined the crime lab and Sergeant Becker.  Becker watched with curious anticipation as the men from the crime lab knelt next to the hand and proceeded to brush dirt away from it with small brushes.

Sergeant Becker turned to Dr. Kline and said, “I noticed a couple of fingers sticking up out of the dirt but when I saw the maggots, I backed away.  I understand that they can sometimes tell you more about the victim and the time of death.”

“That’s right,” Dr. Kline said.  “They can sometimes establish a timeline for the approximate time of death.  I’d better take a closer look; excuse me.”  Dr. Kline knelt next to one of the crime scene techs and took a closer look at the exposed part of the hand and then looked down at the dozens of maggots squirming around.  He turned to the crime scene tech and asked to be notified when the whole body had been exposed.  He stood again and stepped over to the sergeant.

“Any ideas?” Becker asked.

“About what?”

“Time and cause of death,” Becker replied.

Dr. Kline just shook his head.  “I won’t be able to tell anything until I can see the entire body.  I guess we’ll just have to wait and let these guys do their part in all this.”

It took the crime scene techs nearly an hour to dig away the dirt so that Dr. Kline’s assistants could transfer the body into a body bag, onto their gurney and back into the van.  The flesh on the skull had been totally eaten away, as were both hands.  The rest of the body appeared fuller beneath the shirt, pants and shoes it was still wearing.  The torso wiggled with the maggot activity as the coroner’s men zipped up the bag, loaded it into the van and got back into the front seat with Dr. Kline.

“Would you let me know how this turns out?” Becker said to Dr. Kline

“Sure will, Mike,” the coroner said and then drove back to the morgue.

Sergeant Becker turned to the crime lab techs.  “Do you have much more to do here?”

One of the techs, a man named Phil Ryerson replied, “We’re just about finished here.  We should be done in twenty minutes or so.”

“That’s great,” Becker said.  “My partner and I have to get our witness back to the station, but I’ll have dispatch send another unit out to guard the scene after you leave.”

Bill Baird rode back to the Twelfth Precinct with the two cops and gave his complete statement to the stenographer before he was driven back to where Becker and his partner had picked him up.  They returned to the station half an hour later and decided to look in on Dr. Kline.

“Someone went to a lot of trouble with this one,” Dr. Kline told Sergeant Becker when he saw the two cops walking into the morgue.

“How’s that, Doc?” Becker said.

Dr. Kline motioned for the two cops to approach the autopsy table and then pointed to the body on the slab.  “Take a closer look and tell me what you see.  Notice anything unusual about this body?”

Becker and Solomon leaned over a bit and examined the remains.  “What am I looking for?” Becker asked.

Dr. Kline pointed to assorted body parts that had been removed and set aside.  “I don’t know about either of you, but I’ve never seen a human body that consisted of beef and pork scraps.”

“Come again,” Becker said.

“The meat that was stuffed into the clothing to fill it out looks to have come from some butcher shop dumpster.  Thus the maggots.  And that’s not all; take a look at the victim’s wrists.  They are connected to the arm bones with wire.

“Wire?” Officer Solomon said, totally confused by now.

“Wire,” Dr. Kline confirmed.  “But the clincher was right here on the back of the skull.  Go ahead; take a close look for yourselves.

The two cops stepped to the head of the table and looked where the coroner was pointing.  Becker read aloud, “Made in Japan?  What the hell is going on here, Doc?”

Dr. Kline, sighed and said, “Probably the most elaborate practical joke I’ve ever seen; and the most expensive.”

Officer Eddie Solomon furrowed his brow.  “How so?”

Dr. Kline peeled off his gloves and tossed them into a medical waste can.  “Whoever did this had to have spent at least two hundred dollars for this plastic one.  A real one could run more than two thousand dollars.  I don’t get it; what were they hoping to accomplish?”

Becker shrugged and spread his hands.  “Beats me; maybe they were just mischief makers out to have a little fun.  Does it really matter?  I mean if all of this is fake, then we don’t really have a crime here, do we?”

Dr. Kline licked his lips and replied, “How much do you suppose it cost the county in time spent for four police officers to look into this event?  Not to mention my time and the time of my two assistants.  And then there’s the crime lab techs’ time.  I dare say someone just wasted five or six hundred dollars of the taxpayers’ money with this little stunt.  And now I have a maggot mess to clean up and disinfect.  Gees, whatever happened to toilet papering trees or letting the air out of someone’s tires?”

“Well, I know our captain is not going to want to waste anymore of his men’s time looking into this mess, but I’ll ask him if you like,” Becker said.

“If nothing else, my lab may get a decent skeleton model out of all this,” Dr. Kline said.  “If there was a market for maggots, I’d be rich.”  The coroner paused and then said, “Sorry to unload on you, Mike.  It’s just been one of those days.”

“Think nothing of it,” Becker said and left the morgue with his partner.  Just as he suspected, Captain Tim Murphy didn’t want to assign any of his men to follow up on the skeleton prank and just wrote it off.

The following day, as Sergeant Becker was standing at the hot pretzel stand on the corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga, he ran into private investigator Nick Cooper.  Becker turned around and said, “Mr. Cooper, has the pretzel bug bit you, too this morning?”

“Oh, hi, Mike,” Nick said.  “Shouldn’t you be out somewhere patronizing a donut shop?”

“I don’t know where that whole cop-donut myth started but I’ve personally never had any craving for them,” Becker replied and then paid for his pretzel, stepping aside to let Nick get his order.  “So, how’s John doing these days?  Is he still going out with, what’s her name; you know, that cute little secretary that works for you.”

“Abby?” Nick said.  “Yes, she and John are still an item and still going strong.”

Becker bit into his pretzel, chewed and swallowed before adding, “And if memory serves, you were seeing someone as well, weren’t you?  How’s that one working out for you?”

Nick looked down at the sidewalk and said, “It didn’t; we both decided that we didn’t have that much in common after all and called it a day.  Such is life, I guess; what about you; how’s your love life going?”

Becker almost choked on his pretzel, coughed and spit out the piece that had lodged itself in his throat.  Not wanting to get into his personal life, Becker changed the subject and said, “Boy, I tell you, we had one of the strangest cases I’ve ever seen in all my years on the force.”

“Clever,” Nick said.  “If you don’t want to share your love life with me, just say so.”

“All right,” Becker said.  “I don’t want to share my love life with you.  Now, do you want to hear about my strange case or not?”

Nick laughed, knowing he had hit a sore spot with the sergeant.  “Sure; what happened?”

Sergeant Becker explained what had happened with the meat-stuffed skeleton he and his partner had stumbled upon, ending with the Made in Japan printing on the back of the skull.

Nick had to smile now.  “Maybe the victim was Japanese.”  When Becker didn’t take the bait, Nick added, “Maybe not.  Did you ever find out to pulled that prank?”

Sergeant Becker shook his head.  “No, Captain Murphy doesn’t want to waste any more time on it and just told us to forget it, but I have to tell you, my curiosity is starting to get to me and I’d like to know who did this.”

“Why?”

“Just because it’s a loose end for me,” Becker said.  “I tell you, if I only knew of some private eye who was just as curious, I’d…”

Nick shook his head and held up one palm toward the cop.  “Oh no you don’t; I’ve got my own cases to worry about.  I can’t start chasing after pranksters just to soothe your curiosity itch.”

“Yeah,” Becker said.  “That’s why you’re down here buying yourself a pretzel.  Just how slow is business these days?”

Nick let out a deep breath and said, “What’s in this for me, assuming I’d even want to look into it for you?”

“Well,” Becker said, finishing off the last of his pretzel.  “There may be no actual fee involved, but how about if I buy you a hot pretzel every day for a week.”

“Oh yeah,” Nick said.  “Ten bucks worth of pretzels should cover my time.”

Becker paused in thought for a moment and said, “How about if I throw in five Pepsis to boot?”

“Now you’re up to fifteen bucks,” Nick said and waited for Becker to sweeten the deal.

“Hey,” Becker said.  “You know what a cop makes.  That fifteen bucks could make the difference between my kids not getting new shoes this month.”

Nick raised one eyebrow and replied, “But you don’t have any kids.  Hell, you don’t even have a love life to speak of.”

“All right, you drive a hard bargain,” Becker said.  “Five pretzels, five Pepsis and I’ll fill you in on my love life.  Will that do it?”

“Sold,” Nick said.  “It just so happens that I don’t have a case today.  Sure, I’ll take a quick look into it but with the understanding that if a real case comes my way, I’ll have to duck out.”

Sergeant Becker offered his hand to Nick.  “Deal.”

Nick shook the cop’s hand and said, “I have to get back to the office now.  I’ll stop in at the station in about an hour and you can give me what you have so far so I’ll at least have some place to start looking.  Catch you later, Mike.”  Nick returned to his office to find John standing at the south window looking down at the pedestrian traffic on the boulevard.

John turned toward the sound of the office door opening and looked at his wristwatch.  “Where did you have to go for that pretzel, Dad?  Sheboygan?”

“No, actually I met Sergeant Becker at the pretzel stand and he thinks he may have a case for me.”

“Just for you?” John complained.  “Not for me, too?”

“Don’t get your undies in a bundle,” Nick said.  “It’s not exactly a paying job, at least not with money.”  He explained the details to John.

“So you’re looking into a prank involving a plastic skeleton?” John asked.  “Was it in the closet?”

“What are you talking about?” Nick asked.

“Skeletons in the closet,” John said.  “Never mind, it wasn’t funny even as I was saying it.  When do you have to get started on this ‘case’?” John said, curling two sets of fingers in the air in the ‘quotes’ gesture.

“I told Mike I’d stop by the station in an hour or so,” Nick explained.  “Meanwhile, I thought I’d check what the web has to say about plastic skeletons.  You know; where they sell them, how much they cost, practical uses for them, etc.”

John furrowed his brow.  “Practical uses?”

Nick ignored his smart ass son and logged onto the Internet with skeletons in the search engine.

As Nick was surfing the web for information, something had occurred to John.  “Hey, Dad,” he said.  “While you’re at it, you might want to look up if doing what those pranksters did actually broke any laws, otherwise this could all be for nothing.”

Nick stopped typing and turned to John.  “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said.  “In fact, when you think of it, they didn’t steal the meat scraps that were stuffed into the clothes the skeleton was wearing.  All that most likely came from a butcher shop dumpster.  The clothes could have come from any second hand store and the skeleton itself could have been bought on the web.  Where’s the crime?”

John had to smile now.  “So you’re only doing all this work for a few free pretzels and some Pepsi?”

Nick hadn’t mentioned that Sergeant Becker was also going to fill him in on his current love life, but John didn’t need to hear that part.  “You know, when you put it that way, this turns out to be a real waste of my time; not that I need the money or anything, but still.”  He signed off the Internet and closed his laptop.  “I think I’ll just call Mike and tell him I got an actual case and won’t be able to take this one.”

“Good choice, Dad,” John said.  “What possible good could come from it?”

On the other side of town two men were busy hauling the body out of the trunk of their car.  They laid it down in the woods and returned to the car trunk for a pair of shovels.  They had the right size hole dug in just thirty minutes and rolled the body into the hole.  They had the body covered and the hole filled in just twenty minutes.  They had extra dirt left over and just evenly disbursed it among the trees.  One of the men returned the shovels to the trunk while the other man found a branch from a leafy bush and swept the area to make it appear natural again.

As they drove away, one of the men said, “You know, Chuck; that was pretty slick, the way you thought up that other prank.  You know; making sure that other body would be found.  And those maggots were a touch of genius.  What made you think of it?”

Chuck had to laugh; proud of what he’d done with the plastic skeleton.  “I read it on the card that came with the skeleton, Artie.  They had suggestions about how best to fool your friends with it and one of the suggestions mentioned the meat scraps, old clothes and leaving a couple of fingers sticking out of the ground so someone would be sure to find it and report it to the police.  That was two hundred bucks well spent if I do say so.”

Artie scratched the back of his head and added, “But you know, Chuck, sooner or later someone is bound to report Steve missing.  Then what do you suppose will happen?  Won’t the cops come looking for us for answers?  After all, the three of us were always thick as thieves.”

“Thick as thieves,” Chuck said.  “Nice choice of phrases, considering what the three of us just did.”  Chuck eased the car to a stop, still within the woods.

“What are you stopping for, Chuck?” Artie asked.

Chuck held his index finger in the air and said, “I was just thinking; are you sure we scraped off all the dirt from our shovels?  They have ways to determining where certain dirt came from and we don’t need the cops finding strange dirt of those shovels.  We’d better get out and take a closer look.”

Artie got out and walked around to the back of the car, lifting the trunk lid and grabbing the shovel he had used.  He turned to show Chuck the chunks of dirt that clung to the shovel blade.

Chuck pointed to a spot ten feet from the car and said, “Wipe it on that long grass over there and I’ll do the same with this one.”  Chuck followed Artie to the patch of long grass and when Artie bent down to wipe off his shovel blade, Chuck pulled the .38 revolver from his belt and leveled it at Artie’s head, pulling the trigger three times.  Artie fell right onto the patch of grass as Chuck picked up the dropped shovel and started digging Artie’s grave.

He looked down at Artie’s lifeless body and said, “Yeah, Chuck, I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking, whatever happened to honor among thieves.”  Chuck dug out the first shovel full of dirt and tossed it aside.  “You know; I never really cared much for old sayings like that—too corny.  And that haul we got from the bank job; well, I figure it’ll last longer if I don’t have to split it two ways.”  Forty minutes later Chuck patted the last shovel full of dirt over Artie’s body, tossed the shovel into the trunk and drove away.

Back at the Cooper Investigations office, Nick returned from the corner pretzel stand with two hot pretzels and two cups of Diet Pepsi.  He handed one of each to John and said, “Boy, I sure am glad I decided to pass on Sergeant Becker’s offer for the free pretzels.  I have a feeling I’d have just been spinning my wheels on a case as mundane as that one surely would have turned out to be.”

A Very Moving Tale

Nick Cooper had just helped his son, John lift the last box into the back of the moving van.  They stood back as the moving men closed the rear doors and turned to their customer.  “Well, that’s about it for now,” the driver told John.  “My partner and I are going to stop for lunch and then we’ll meet you at your new place.”  He verified the new address with John and checked his watch.  “Let’s call it two-thirty at your new house; see you there.”

John nodded acknowledgement and thanked the two men just before they drove off with all of John’s worldly possessions.  John looked at Nick and said, “Are you hungry, Dad?  We could always catch a little lunch ourselves before we drive over to the new place.”

Nick shook his head and patted his stomach.  “I had a big breakfast just an hour and a half ago.  I’m not really hungry yet.  How about if we drive over to your new house and see if there’s any last minute things that need to be taken care of before they start unloading all your stuff.”

“How about if you follow me in your car,” John said.  “When they’re all done unloading I thought I’d stick around for a while and try to figure out where everything should go.  Abby will be stopping by later to help with that part.”

Abby was John’s girlfriend, Abby Ross, who also worked part time as a secretary at the family business, Cooper Investigations.

John drove up the winding mountain road to the house that Abby had helped John pick out for his new residence.  It had a terrific view of Hollywood down below and the neighborhood was a lot quieter than the house John was leaving.  John drove into his driveway, leaving room for Nick’s car next to his.  The two of them got out and walked to the overlook behind the house.

“This really is a great view,” Nick had to agree.  “And you’re not that much farther from our office, either.  How did you two manage to find this place?”

John had to smile at the memory.  “Abby and I were just taking a leisurely drive one day and stumbled upon the For Sale sign that was lying in the ditch.  We might not have seen it at all but Abby was looking out her window as we drove and just happened to see it there, almost covered in weeds.  We stopped, wrote down the number of the realtor and called her.  We made an appointment to look at the property the very next day and fell in love with it.”  He sighed with contentment.

After a few minutes of enjoying the view Nick turned to his son and said, “Are you sure you made the right choice as far as movers?  I mean, some of the major movers would have more modern trucks and more employees to help.  How’d you manage to find these two guys?”

“I made several calls and got several quotes,” John replied.  “And then I remembered seeing a moving truck at the gas station down the block.  I drove over there and talked to a couple of guys who were filling up the truck with gas and having a tire replaced.  It turned out that these guys had the best rate of all of them.  They beat the next lowest quote by nearly half so I signed up with them that same day.  Besides, I thought the name of their company was pretty clever—Two Guys and a Truck.”

“Yeah, but money is not always the best way to choose a mover,” Nick said.  “Those major companies are bonded and insured in case one of the movers accidentally breaks something of yours.  Are your two guys bonded and insured?”

John frowned and thought back to the phone call.  “You know, I don’t remember asking them that question.”  He paused momentarily and then added, “I’m sure we’ll be just fine.  This whole ordeal will be over and done with in just a couple more hours.  Dad, I think you worry too much.”

After walking Nick through his new house and pointing out interesting features, John checked his watch again and realized that the movers should have been here by now.  He’d give them another fifteen minutes before he called the number on the card they’d given him.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and now even Nick was getting nervous.  “I think you’d better give those guys a call and see what’s keeping them.”

“They probably just got tied up in traffic,” John surmised.  “But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call them right now.”  He dialed the number on the business card and listened as it rung.  Three rings later the call was answered.

“TGT,” the man on the other end said.

“This is John Cooper; where are you guys?  I expected you to be here fifteen minutes ago.  Are you sure you wrote the address down correctly?”

The driver’s assistant looked at the slip of paper John had given him and read the address back to John.

“That’s not right,” John said.  “That address you read off to me is way on the other end of town.  What the heck is going on here?”

“Sorry, Mr. Cooper; I grabbed the wrong slip after we got done with lunch.  We can be there in thirty-five or forty minutes.  And to make it up to you, we’ll knock off an additional fifty bucks for your aggravation.”

John’s demeanor softened and he said, “That sounds reasonable and thanks for your co-operation.  I’ll see you then.”  He hung up and turned to his father.  “They were looking at the wrong address slip and ended up on the other end of town.  He said they’d be here in forty minutes.  You don’t have to wait around if you have something else you need to do.”

Nick shook his head.  “No, I got nothing else, but now I think I’ll just stretch out and relax for forty minutes if you don’t mind.”

Back in the moving truck, the driver’s assistant disconnected the call and looked over at the driver.  “That was a stroke of genius, Bud.  I mean, telling them we had to go to lunch bought us another hour.  And then the old address switch routine.  That bought us another hour.  By the time that simpleton figures out he’s been taken, we’ll be in Arizona with a truckload of furniture we can sell.  Hey, better pull over for a minute.  There’s something I forgot to do.”

Bud pulled the truck over to the side of the road.  He and his assistant, Stan got out and walked around to the right side of the truck, each of them taking hold of a corner of the sign and pulling.  The Two Guys and a Truck sign peeled right off.  They folded it up and threw it in the back of the truck along with Cooper’s furniture.  They did the same thing on the left side and then pulled the fake license plate that had been held on with magnets, exposing the right plate.  Within minutes, they were driving away with a plain, unlettered truck.  Forty-five minutes later as the truck sped through the mountains of Southern California, Stan grinned.  “Arizona here we come.”

It had now been fifty minutes since John had talked to the truck driver regarding their whereabouts.  This time when he called the number on the card, all he got was an ear-piercing screech followed by a recorded voice telling him that the number he had dialed had been disconnected.  He sighed heavily and turned to his father.  John’s face told the whole story.

“They disappeared, didn’t they?” Nick asked.  Your bargain quote doesn’t seem like such a bargain anymore, does it?”

“Don’t rub it in, Dad,” John replied.  “The last thing I need now is an ‘I told you so’ from you.  I’m really screwed now.”  He looked over at Nick, who was punching numbers into his own cell phone.  “Who are you calling, Dad?”

Nick didn’t answer but just waited while the phone rang.  “Steve,” Nick said.  “It’s Nick Cooper; did I catch you in the middle of anything important?”

Steve was Lieutenant Steve Stone of the L.A.P.D.  “Nope, just more of the same ol’ same ol’.  This damned paperwork never ends.  What’s up?”

“Steve, I’m up here at John’s new address in the mountains,” Nick began.  “We were waiting for the moving truck to bring all of John’s stuff over but they’re way overdue.  The last time John called them he got a disconnected message.  Steve, I’m afraid John has been scammed by two guys who took off with all his belongings.  Is there anything you can do to help us out?”

Steve thought about it for a moment and then said, “What was the name of the moving company and by chance did you get the license number of their truck?”

“Neither of us thought to look at the license plate number, but the company was called Two Guys and…”

“Two Guys and a Truck?” Steve said.  “Please tell me you didn’t fall for that old scam.  We’ve had several reports of these guys pulling the same thing in several other states around the southwest.   The last complaint involved a company called Two Guys, Inc. and the time before that they called their company Two Goys and a Truck and had a picture of some moving man wearing a yamaka.  When did you last hear from them?”

Nick checked his watch and replied, “A little better than an hour ago.”  He gave Steve a rundown of the timeline between John’s old house and now.

“It sounds like these guys may have at least a three hour head start on us,” Steve said.  “I’ll get out a statewide alert with a description of the truck, but I wouldn’t hold out much hope of ever seeing them or John’s possessions again.  Hey, I’m just being honest with you.  I don’t want to give you any false hope.  Leave your phone on; I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

Nick disconnected the call and turned to John.  He just shook his head and sighed.  “There’s no need to hang around here.  Come one; we can go back to my house or back to the office; your choice.”

“Let’s go back to the office,” John said.

“What about Abby?” Nick asked.  “Didn’t you say she was going to meet you later at the new house?”

“What else can go wrong?” John asked as he dialed Abby’s cell number.

“Hello,” Abby said.

“Abby, it’s John.  Say, listen, about meeting later at the new house; something’s come up and we’re going to have to postpone that for a while.  I’ll call you when I get our current situation taken care of.”

“Our?”

“Oh yeah, I’m with my dad and we have something we need to handle right away.  I’ll give you a call when we’re done with it.”

“Okay,” Abby said.  “Is your problem anything I can help with?”

“Thanks, but no.  I’ll catch you later.”  John disconnected his call and dropped the phone back into his pocket.

The two of them pulled into the Cahuenga Building parking lot and hurried up to their office on the third floor.  Nick went immediately to his laptop and fired it up.  John did the same with his.  They both started researching moving companies and stumbled upon several sites discussing Two Men and a Truck.  Nick found a site describing their services while John found a blog containing nothing but customer complaints.  This discovery hadn’t helped his overall mood and he finally had to close his laptop.

John stepped over to Nick’s desk and looked over his shoulder at what Nick had found.  None of it gave John any hope of ever seeing his furniture and belongings again and he flopped down on the leather sofa beneath the south window, wondering if he was ever going to see his belongings again.

Nick closed his laptop and took a seat next to his son, patting the top of his knee.  “Well, look at the bright side.  If nothing else, at least your household insurance will help you get all new stuff.”

John just hung his head.  “I didn’t get insurance for any of it.  I was going to do that once I had it all moved into the new place.”

The rest of that day crawled by slowly and by the time five o’clock rolled around, John had given up all hope and plucked his jacket off the coat rack.  He looked back at Nick.  “Are you comin’, Dad?”

“I suppose,” Nick said and stood facing the coat rack.  Just as he was about to pull his jacket off the coat rack the phone on his desk rang.  He wasn’t sure if he should just let the machine get it or just leave the office.  He turned and picked up his phone on the fourth ring.  “Cooper.”

“Nick, it’s Steve.  I’m glad I caught you.”

“What is it, Steve?”

“Is John still there with you?”

“Uh, yeah; why?”

“You want to tell him to get on the extension so I don’t have to repeat this?”

Nick gestured to his son to pick up line one and then spoke to Steve again.  “All right, John’s on; what’s up?”

“John,” Steve began.  “You’re not going to believe this but I think we got back all of your stuff.”

“What?  How?  I never thought I’d see any of it again.  Where did you catch up with those two crooks?”

“They’re here in Hollywood,” Steve said.  “We’ve got them down here at the Twelfth Precinct.”

“Really,” John said, amazed.  “What did they have to say for themselves?”

“They’re not talking,” Steve replied.

“Just give me five minutes with them,” John said.

Steve had to laugh.  “I could give you five days with them and they still wouldn’t talk.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re both D-E-A-D; dead.  We have them both in the morgue.”

Now Nick joined in.  “How’d you manage that one, Steve?”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Steve replied.  “It was our old friend, gravity.”

“Huh?”

“They never made it out of the state,” Steve explained.  “It looks like they got as far as the mountains before their brakes apparently went out and they took a nose dive over the side.  That’s why it took me so long to call you back.  It took hours for us to get a large tow truck over there and get that moving truck hauled back up onto the road.  I took a look in the back of it and recognized some of your furniture.  Hey, you may have a broken lamp or two and maybe a glass coffee table and some dishes, but I think most of your belongings survived the fall.  You’ll have to come down and identify the contents of that truck.  When can you make it?”

John jumped in.  “We’ll be there in five minutes.”  He hung up and hurried down the hall with his father toward the elevator.  They made it to the Twelfth Precinct in just four minutes.

Steve met the Coopers at the parking lot entrance and led them to the morgue, just down the hall.  There on two slabs lay the bodies of the two men, without their truck.  After all was said and done, John got his deposit back and was able to salvage more than ninety per cent of the truck’s contents.

This time he was taking no chances.  He went with a name brand moving company.

Gotcha

The urge struck again and Nick Cooper just had to go downstairs to the corner vendor and buy himself a hot pretzel and a Diet Pepsi.  He turned toward his son, John’s desk and said, “I’m going down for a pretzel; would you like me to bring one back for you?”

John looked up from his laptop screen and said with a bit of a scowl, “Really?  Dad, it’s not even nine o’clock and you’re already hungry.  What did you do; skip breakfast this morning?”

“So that would be a ‘no’ then?” Nick said sarcastically.

John just shook his head and waved his father off.  Nick slipped his jacket over his shoulder holster, left the office and rode the elevator down three floors to the lobby and exited out onto Hollywood Boulevard.  Herb was standing behind his hot pretzel cart and smiled when he saw Nick coming his way.  Without asking what he wanted, Herb picked out a big pretzel and wrapped it in waxed paper.  He was already ringing up the sale when Nick approached his stand.

“Ah, you know me all too well, Herb,” Nick said, pulling out his wallet and spreading it open to extract the two dollars.  Just as he did this, a young man, perhaps no more than twenty dashed past Nick, grabbed the wallet out of his hand and just kept running.  Nick immediately swiveled on his feet and lit out after the brazen thief who ran like the wind.

He had gone no more than a hundred feet when a man who had just exited from one of the stores on the boulevard looked at the young boy running past him being chased by an older man with an obviously angry face.  The man reached out and grabbed Nick by the arm and pulled him to a stop.  “Gotcha; I’m calling the police,” the man said.  “You just stay where you are, Mister.  Maybe they will be able to teach you not to chase after helpless kids.”  With one hand clamped onto Nick’s arm, he fished his cell phone from his pocket with the other.

As the man started to punch in 9-1-1, Nick reached into his jacket and withdrew his .38 caliber revolver and pointed it at the misinformed Good Samaritan.  “Take your hand off me…right now.”

The man released Nick’s arm and held both of his own arms up into the air.  “Don’t shoot, Mister,” the man begged.

“Put your hands down,” Nick instructed.  “Now you wait right where you are while I call the police.”  He fished his own cell phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial button for Lieutenant Steve Stone at the Twelfth Precinct, just four blocks to the south.  He told Steve that he was holding a man at bay on the boulevard in front of his building and would he send a car over right away.  Steve agreed that he would and Nick disconnected the call, turning back to his obviously embarrassed prisoner.

The man looked completely puzzled by this turn of events and said, “But I thought you…”

Nick interrupted the man’s train of thought and said, “Well, you thought wrong.  That kid, as you call him, who I was chasing, had just snatched my wallet out of my hands and I was trying to get it back.  And you had to come along and stick your nose into my business that was none of your business.  I hope you’re proud of yourself.  Break out some I.D.,” Nick said, showing the man his own badge and I.D. card.

The man’s eyes got wide and he nervously said, “Look, I didn’t know you were a cop when I interfered.”

“I’m not,” Nick said, holding the I.D. card even closer to the man’s face.  “I’m a private investigator and my office is just upstairs in that building.”  He gestured toward the Cahuenga Building with his gun hand.  Just then a black and white patrol car pulled up to the curb and two uniformed officers got out and walked over to where Nick and the Good Samaritan stood.

The first cop, a sergeant named Jeff Gasper said, “Hey, Mr. Cooper; what have you got here?”

“Hey, Jeff,” Nick replied, disappointed that he’d lost his quarry amid all this flurry.  “Looks like you’re breaking in another rookie.  Who’s that you have there with you?”

Sergeant Gasper tossed his head to one side and said, “My partner’s name is Richie Kohler.”

Nick nodded at the other cop and then looked back at Gasper.  “Some punk snatched my wallet right out of my hands and took off that way.”  He gestured with his chin west on Hollywood Boulevard.

Gasper smiled at looked at the man Nick was detaining.  “And you caught him already?  Gees, you’re in better shape than you look.”

Nick shook his head.  “No, this isn’t the wallet snatcher.  This idiot grabbed me by the arm as I was chasing the kid with my wallet.  The kid got away.  I had nearly two hundred dollars in that wallet.”

Gasper turned toward Nick’s detainee.  “Let’s see some I.D.”

The man had already plucked his wallet out of his pocket when Nick asked to see it.  He just handed his wallet to the cop.  Gasper didn’t take the man’s wallet and just told him to take the license out of it instead.  The man slipped his license out of the celluloid window and handed it to the cop.

“Bernard Armstrong,” Gasper said.  “Is that your real name and do you still live at this address?”

“Yes, sir,” Armstrong said, suddenly becoming a lot more polite than he’d been with Nick.

“You want to tell me what happened here, Mr. Armstrong?” Gasper said, writing down the information from the license onto his notepad and handing the license back to the man.

Armstrong replaced the license under the clear window and dropped the wallet back into his pocket.  He pointed to the entrance to one of the stores on the boulevard and said, “I was just coming out of that store when I saw some kid running past with this guy chasing him.”  He gestured toward Nick.  “I thought I was witnessing a crime in progress and just grabbed him by the arm so he wouldn’t hurt that kid.  How was I supposed to know that the kid was the crook?”

Gasper sighed with exasperation and put his notebook away before turning back to Nick.  “Nick, you have to admit that Mr. Armstrong’s intentions were honorable, even if the results caused you to lose the kid you were chasing.  I’m going to send Mr. Armstrong on his way, unless you want to press charges for assault.”

When Nick saw Armstrong’s pitiful and obviously remorseful face he returned his weapon to the underarm holster and said, “I suppose; but what about that kid and my wallet?  I don’t suppose I’ll ever see either one again.”

Gasper looked at Armstrong and said, “Beat it before Mr. Cooper changes his mind.”  Bernard Armstrong hurried away down the street as Gasper turned to Nick and said, “Can you give me a description of the kid? What was he wearing?  How old was he?  What color was his hair?  I gotta tell ya, Nick, I wouldn’t hold out much hope.”

“It all happened so fast,” Nick began.  “By the time I realized that he’d taken my wallet, all I could see was the back side of the kid running away.  Do what you can and let me know if anything develops.  Meanwhile, I have to get back up to my office and cancel my credit cards before that kid drains my account.  Thanks, Jeff.”  Nick walked back toward his office and kept going all the way to the corner to the pretzel stand.  “Guess I’ll have to hold off on that pretzel, Herb.”

“Yeah, I saw what happened, Nick.  That kid sure could run.”  He handed Nick the wrapped pretzel and said, “No charge; this one’s on the house for your troubles.”

Nick took the pretzel from Herb, thanked him and headed back to his building.  When he walked back into his office, their secretary, Abby had arrived and was sitting behind her desk.  John looked at the imaginary invisible wristwatch on his arm, held it up to his ear, tapped the crystal, held it back up to his ear and said, “This darn thing must have stopped.  I would have sworn you said you were just going down to the corner for…”

“Can it, smart ass,” Nick said.  “I’m not in the mood.”  He explained what had just happened to him down on the street and sat behind his desk, looking up the number for his credit card company.

“That’s terrible, Nick,” Abby said, adding her two cents worth.

Several blocks west and one block north, the wallet snatcher slowed to a stop and ducked into a doorway to inspect the contents of Nick’s wallet.  He smiled widely when he saw the two hundred plus dollars looking back at him.  He was busy counting the bills when another man walked up to him and held out his hand.  The thief looked up and sighed with relief when he recognized his partner, Bernard Armstrong waiting for his cut in this well choreographed charade.  Armstrong had done his part by detaining the wallet’s owner, giving his partner a chance for a clean getaway.

“How’d it go?” Bart Swanson asked.

“It could have gone better,” Armstrong said.  “It was just my luck that the guy whose arm I grabbed was carrying and he pulled his piece and held me until the cops showed up.”

“What did you do?” Bart said.

Armstrong used the same pitiful and remorseful face he’d used on Nick.  “Works every time,” he said and took his half of Nick’s hard earned money before taking the wallet from Bart and tossing it on the ground behind a garbage can.

It had been two days since Nick’s encounter with the Good Samaritan on Hollywood Boulevard.  He managed to cancel all his credit cards but he was still pissed about losing that much money to some street punk who just happened to be swift on his feet.  Soon after he had opened his office that Wednesday morning, there came a knock on his office door and the visitor quickly let himself in and scanned the room.  His eyes fell on Nick, since Nick was the only one in the office at the time.

Nick stood now and faced his visitor.  “Yes, sir, may I help you?”

The man looked to be in his mid-sixties and was dressed similar to some of the street people Nick had seen panhandling on the boulevard.  The man held something up in his hand and Nick immediately recognized it.  “My wallet,” Nick said.  “Where did you find it?”

The man tossed his head in a westerly direction and replied, “About three blocks away from here behind a trash can.  I figured you might want it back so I brought it over.”  He stepped closer to Nick’s desk and handed the brown bi-fold wallet to Nick, who immediately pulled his handkerchief out before accepting it.  He still held out a glimmer of hope that there might be fingerprints on it.  He opened it and found just exactly what he had expected—nothing.  The man was quick to add, “Uh, it was empty when I found it, honest.”

Nick didn’t doubt him for a minute but wondered what the man would have done if Nick’s money and credit cards had still been in it.  “Thank you so much, Mr….”

“Chambers,” the man said.  “Randolph Chambers.  Well, I’d better get going; the soup kitchen is only open until ten this morning and if I miss it, they won’t open again until noon and I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”

Chambers turned to leave but Nick stopped his with, “Just a minute, Mr. Chambers; please take this with my thanks.”  He held out a ten dollar bill and Chambers didn’t hesitate for a minute to accept it.

Abby had been watching the exchange and picked up her purse, fishing a five dollar bill from her wallet and handing it to the old man.  “Here you go; just in case you miss your breakfast.”

Randolph Chambers smiled and nodded sheepishly at Abby.  He could see a bottle in his future—a bottle and a warm corner of some alley where he could enjoy it in peace.  “Thank you both and especially you, Mr….”

“Cooper,” Nick said.  “Nick Cooper.”  He shook the man’s hand and walked him to the door.  “You take care now and thanks again for your efforts.”  As soon as he had closed the door, he hurried over to the sink in the alcove and pumped four squirts of liquid soap on his hands and rubbed them together vigorously, rinsing them afterwards and drying them on the towel that hung alongside the sink.  He smelled his hands and stepped back over to his desk where he picked up his phone.

“Stone,” the voice on the other end said.

“Steve, it’s Nick Cooper.  Did I catch you in the middle of anything important?”

The L.A.P.D. lieutenant replied, “Not really; what’s on your mind this morning?”

“Steve, I just had a visitor here in my office,” Nick began.  “Some old street guy found my wallet from the other day and brought it up here.  Of course it was empty of my cash and credit cards, but still I figured the crime lab may be able to lift some prints from it.  Yeah, I know it’s probably a long shot, but at least it’s someplace to start.  What do you think; can I bring it over?”

“Sure thing, Nick, but you know it’s going to have that old man’s prints all over it,” Stone remarked.

“All we need is one stray print to go on,” Nick replied.  “I can be there in five minutes.”  He hung up and caught John just coming in to work that morning.  “I’ll be right back,” Nick told his son.  “I got my wallet back and I’m running it over to the crime lab for prints.”  He didn’t wait for a reply from John but just kept walking out the door and down the hall to the elevator.

Nick held the wallet between the folds of his handkerchief and held it out to Phil Ryerson in the crime lab.  He explained how the old man had brought it to him earlier that morning and said he realized the old man’s prints must surely be all over it.  “Just let me know if anyone’s print other than that old man’s or mine shows up on it; would you.”

“Can do, Nick,” Ryerson said.  “You just want me to call you after I’m done inspecting it?”

“How long do you think?”

“Oh, give me an hour or so to lift the prints and run them through the system,” Ryerson said.  “I have your number.”

Nick patted his on the shoulder.  “Thanks a lot, Phil; I really appreciate it.”  Nick left the way he’d come and got back to his office a few minutes later.

John looked up from his laptop when Nick walked into the office.  “So fill me in on this latest development.”

Nick told John about the old man’s visit and how he returned the empty wallet.  “I gave him ten bucks for his troubles.  That’ll be gone before lunchtime rolls around, but it might turn out to be a well-spent ten bucks if I can get any leads from Phil Ryerson at the crime lab.”

“Keep your fingers crossed,” John said and went back to surfing the web on his laptop.

An hour and fifteen minutes later Nick got the call from the crime lab.  “Nick, it’s Phil; I think I have something for you.”

“That’s great, Phil; what did you find.”

“Get this,” Phil said.  “Naturally we found your fingerprints on it and we also found another complete set that wound up belonging to the old man you described.  Turns out he has a record with the department for vagrancy and public drunkenness; big surprise there, eh?”

“That’s it?” Nick asked somewhat disappointed.

“Not quite,” Phil said.  We found partials from two other individuals who both had records here also.  One of them belongs to a man named Bart Swanson, who has a sheet longer than your arm, including purse snatching, burglary, assault; you name it, he’s done it.”

“What about the other one?” Nick asked.

“That’s the funny part,” Phil explained.  “I showed my results to Lieutenant Stone and he compared them with Sergeant Gasper’s notes from a couple days ago in his encounter with you on the boulevard.  Those second set of prints belonged to none other than Bernard Armstrong.”

“My Good Samaritan?” Nick said, surprised at the results.  “So those to schmucks were in on it together, eh?”

“Looks like it, Nick,” Phil agreed.  “You might want to check with Lieutenant Stone if you want any updates on his progress.  Gotta run; catch you later, Nick.”

“Thanks a lot, Phil,” Nick said and disconnected the call.  He turned to John and started to speak before John held up on palm toward his father.

“Yeah, I heard,” John said.  “And from your end of the conversation, I gathered that the guy who grabbed your arm on the street was the accomplice.”

Nick nodded.  “Exactly; that’s a new one on me.  Steve will take it from here, thought I doubt I’ll ever see my two hundred bucks again.  Why don’t you keep an eye on things around here for a while?  I think I’ll go pay Stave a little visit.  I won’t be gone very long.”  He didn’t even wait for a reply before he left the office and drove the four blocks south to the Twelfth Precinct.  He looked for the lieutenant in his office but was told by Stone’s secretary that he might be in the break room.  Nick thanked her and headed off down the hall.

Steve Stone was just coming out of the break room by the time Nick made it that far down the hall.  He smiled when he saw Nick and said, “Nick, I was just going to call you.”

“Yeah,” Nick said.  “I just spoke to Phil Ryerson at the crime lab.  It sounds like he might have good news for both of us.”

“I just assigned Sergeant Gasper and his partner to the case,” Stone said.  “They’re out looking those two up right now.  I should hear something before the day is up.  Would you like me to call you if I hear anything?”

“I sure would,” Nick said, a wide smile covering his face.  “Thanks, Steve.  If you don’t reach me at my office, try my cell phone.”  Nick left the station and drove back to the Cahuenga Building.  John was gone by the time he got back to his office but John had left him a note saying that he had gotten a call from a prospective client and that he was going over to interview the man.

Nick settled in behind his desk and for the first time in a little more than two days, he was beginning to feel hopeful about his troubles from two days earlier.  No one else called for the rest of that morning and Nick was beginning to get restless.  He opened his laptop and did a global search for Bart Swanson and Bernard Armstrong.  Nick began reading one article that was about Armstrong when the overhead light in his office suddenly went out, causing Nick to automatically look up at the fixture.  It was then that he noticed his mini refrigerator had suddenly stopped humming as well.

Nick stood up and walked over to the south window and looked down at the street below.  The traffic lights on the corner were all out, as were all the electrical signs on the stores up and down the boulevard.  “Oh great,” he said to himself.  “Another power outage; now what is it; another raccoon crawling inside one of the generators on one of the poles?”

Nick returned to his laptop and saw that the screen was still displaying the last thing he had looked at and quickly realized that his laptop was now running on its internal battery.  He also knew that his battery would only be good for another hour or two at the most so he signed off the Internet and shut down his laptop, in case he needed it for something later that day.  He locked up the office and walked down the hall to the elevator where he pressed the button before realizing that the power outage also affected the elevator.  He took the stairs to the lobby and exited to the street.

There was a cop in the intersection directing traffic.  Nick looked up the block and saw other cops directing traffic at those corners that were controlled by traffic lights as well.  The street looked like gridlock and he was glad he was on foot at this particular time.

Cell phones were still working and as Nick turned to go back into the Cahuenga Building, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.  “Cooper,” he said.

“Dad, it’s John.  Did you find my note?”

“Yeah, I did; how’s the interview coming along?”

“I finished it ten minutes ago and I was heading back into town when the blackout happened,” John explained.  “The streets are a mess, especially in the intersections where there were traffic lights.  Everybody wants to claim the right of way and nobody seems to want to yield to anyone else.  As soon as I can, I’m getting off this main street and taking the side streets back to the office so it may take me a while longer than usual.”

“Did you get the client’s business?” Nick asked.

John sighed and said, “No, this guy was really out there with his assumptions.  You know the type; he’s seen every Marlowe movie and still thinks private eyes get twenty-five bucks a day plus expenses.  It didn’t take me long to feel him out and get the hell out of there.  What did you find out at the Twelfth Precinct?”

“Phil Ryerson at the crime lab was able to lift several prints from the wallet thief plus another surprise print—the guy who stopped me on the street.  It looks like he was in on it but Steve checked their rap sheets and got their addresses.  I expect he’ll be bringing them in later today but I’m sure I can kiss my money goodbye.  Listen, we can talk some more when you get back; see you later.”  Nick disconnected the call and took his time climbing the three flights of stairs to his floor.  As luck would have it, the minute he stepped out of the stairwell into the third floor hall, the lights came back on.  If he had just waited five more minutes he could have ridden the elevator and spared his aching muscles.

When John got back to the office, he found Nick on the phone talking to Lieutenant Stone.  Apparently he’d come in at the tail end of Nick’s conversation.

“Thanks, Steve,” Nick said.  “I’ll be over a little later to sign the papers.  John just walked in and I want to fill him in first.”  He hung up and turned to John.  “You’ll never believe it; Steve’s officers picked up both men and caught them with another wallet that they had apparently just lifted from some unsuspecting victim on the street.  They hadn’t even had time to empty it and throw it away before the officers showed up.  And that’s not the best part.  Get this; they still had my two hundred on them and were in the process of adding to their stash at the time of their arrest.  They told Sergeant Gasper that they were saving up to buy a used car so they could leave town.”

“So will you get your two hundred dollars back?” John asked.

“Eventually, after the trial, but for now it’s evidence in Steve’s case, so I guess I’ll just have to be patient.”

“And from what I understand, you’re only out the inconvenience of having to cancel your credit cards and get new ones,” John surmised.  “Did you get your replacements yet?”

“The lady from customer service promised I’d have them no later than tomorrow,” Nick said.

“Well, let’s just hope you don’t need to make any purchases between now and then,” John said.  You cash is tied up and you have no cards yet.  Looks like you can’t even make one of those nine hundred number calls for kicks.  You can’t even order a pizza or use a parking meter in town.”

Nick just rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Kids,” under his breath.

EBF

Private Investigator John Cooper had been keeping steady company with his office secretary, Abby Ross for a little better than a year now.  The two of them seemed like a perfect match from the start and John was grateful every day for having her in his life.  Abby started out as a part-time secretary and having spent so much time around John in the office, sparks just naturally flew between them.

John’s father, Nick, however had not been so lucky in his love life ever since the death of his wife, Shelley all that time ago.  The two of them had been on a case when the suspects had driven up behind Nick’s car, overtook it and sprayed the back driver’s side door with a hail of bullets.  The bullets entered the sedan at a forward angle, catching Shelley Cooper in the back before the assailant’s car drove off, leaving Shelley to die right there in the front seat, next to Nick.

But Nick was happy for his son for having found his significant other.  He liked Abby, too, right from the first day he’d hired her.  She had that kind of outgoing personality that endeared her to whomever she crossed paths with.

And here it was, Friday afternoon once again and the end of another long week for Cooper Investigations.  John and Abby were looking forward to a long, relaxing weekend together.  It didn’t matter what they were doing, whether it be a night on the town or just stretching out in front of the TV in John’s living room.  As long as the two of them were together, they were happy.

On their way from the Cooper office to John’s house, Abby’s cell phone rang.  She fished the phone out of her purse and answered the call.  It was her best friend, Rose Boone, whom she had known since the eighth grade all those years ago.  “Rosie,” Abby said when she recognized the name on her caller I.D. screen.  “I haven’t heard from you for so long that I thought you might have moved away.  Where have you been keeping yourself?”

“Hi Abby,” Rose said.  “I’ve been meaning to call you now for the past two months but the time just got away from me.  You know how that goes.  Are you and John Cooper still together?”

Abby turned toward John behind the wheel and smiled before turning back and replying, “Yes I am; as a matter of fact he’s sitting right here next to me in the car.  We just got off work and we’re heading home.”

“Home?” Rose said.  “Did you finally move in with him?”

“I sure did,” Abby replied.  “And it’s working out better than I could ever have imagined.  So tell me, what prompted you to finally pick up the phone and call me?”

Rose went silent for a moment and then cleared her throat.  “Well, I, uh, that is; oh hell I might as well just come out and say it.  Paul was released yesterday.  I think it was in the paper; did you see it?”

She was referring to Paul Cain, Abby’s former boyfriend who had gone to prison for three years for aggravated assault.  He ended up serving the full three years plus an additional six months for none other than aggravated assault on one of the prison guards.

“Are you kidding me?” Abby said.  “Did you see it in the paper; and which paper would that have been in?”

Rose licked her lips and replied, “Actually, Abby, he called me, asking about you.  He told me that he went to your old place looking for you but you had apparently moved and he naturally assumed that I could tell him where you went.”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“Hell no,” Rose assured her.  “I told him that we’d lost touch over the past year and a half and that I didn’t know what had become of you.  I think he believed me, but who knows?  I just thought I should give you a heads up in case you see him out and about and want to avoid him.”

“Well, thanks for that, anyway,” Abby said.  “Listen, can we get together soon if for no other reason than to catch up since we last saw each other?”

“I’d like that,” Rose said.  “Call me when you’re free and we can set up a date.”

“Thanks for the call,” Abby said and disconnected the call.

“I take it that was Rosie,” John said.  “What’s up with her?”

“It can wait until we get home,” Abby said.  “I don’t want you driving when I tell you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re less than a minute from home,” John said.  “I don’t think I could stand much more suspense than that.”  He pulled into his driveway and killed the engine.  He and Abby got out and walked up to the front door.  They were no sooner in the door when John flipped on the light switch and asked again about that phone call.

“Can I at least get out of my coat and settle in?” Abby asked.  She hung up her coat, laid her purse on the kitchen counter and took John by the hand into the living room, settling him down on the sofa.  She sat down next to him and said, “Rose just called to tell me that she had heard from a mutual acquaintance of ours.  You know John, before I started working in your office and got to know you, I had been going out with a couple of other guys.”

“Yeah,” John said, “I figured that much out on my own.”

Abby laid her hand on John’s forearm and continued.  “A couple of years before I met you I was going with this guy named Paul Cain.  We had been dating for about a year when he was arrested and sent to prison.”

John sat up straight now and looked Abby in the eye.  “And I’m just now hearing about him.  What was the big secret about?”

“There was no big secret,” Abby said.  “I just wanted to try to forget about Paul and put that part of my life behind me.  I never thought I’d see him again so I just never mentioned him.”

“And now?” John said.

“And now Paul’s been released from prison and I just wanted you to know about him in case he tries to come back into my life.  Believe me, it was over with him years ago and I have no interest whatever in getting back together with him.  You’re the only one I love now so there’s no reason for you to be jealous of Paul.”

“Jealous?” John said.  “I don’t get jealous; jealous is for chumps.  I can handle this; no problem.”

Abby frowned.  “But what if he tries to force his way back into my life somehow?”

John opened his jacket and patted his underarm holster.  “I’m packing,” he said and then rolled his eyes.  “Suppose we don’t worry about that eventuality unless or until it happens.  In the meantime, how about if we just keep going on the way we have been.”  He leaned over and gave Abby a kiss, patting her shoulder afterwards.

“Okay,” she replied and kissed him back.

The following Monday morning back in the office, Abby began filing case folders while John checked his answering machine for new messages.  The red light was blinking and the screen showed that three messages had come in over the weekend.  He pressed the Play button and listened to the first message.  It was a man inquiring about Cooper’s availability and rates for the coming week.  The second call was one where the caller hadn’t left any message.  It was the third call that got John’s attention.

“Cooper,” the message began.  “You’d better grow eyes in the back of your head ‘cause one day I’ll be there when you least expect it.”  The caller chuckled with a throaty growl and hung up.

“Well, that was certainly a strange call,” John began.  “If I didn’t…”  He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the look on Abby’s face.  “What’s wrong?”

“That voice,” Abby replied.  “That sounded like Paul.  It’s been a while since I’ve heard it, but there’s no mistaking that voice.  Oh, John, I don’t like this.  However did he find out about you; about us?”

At that very moment John’s father, Nick walked into the office, looked at Abby and said, “Find out what?”  When all he got was a questioning look from Abby he clarified by adding, “I could hear you all the way out in the hall.  How did who find out what about you two?”  Neither John nor Abby responded but just looked at each other with a worried expression.  Nick hung up his jacket and turned to his son.  “Come on; out with it.  If it’s going to be a problem for this business, I think I should know about it.”

Abby spoke first and gave Nick the condensed version of her past association with Paul Cain, ending with the message on the answering machine.  Nick walked over to the machine and pressed the Play button.  He listened to the first message, heard the non-message of the second entry and then listened closely the gruff man’s veiled threat to John.  Nick removed the memory chip from the phone machine, dropped it into his pocket and replaced it with a fresh chip.  “I think I’ll pay a visit to Steve and play the message for him.  Let’s see what he suggests.  I’ll be right back.”

Steve was Lieutenant Steve Stone from the Twelfth Precinct just four blocks south of Cooper’s office.  He made it there in just a couple of minutes and knocked on the lieutenant’s office door.  He took a seat across from the cop and handed him the memory chip.  “Would you listen to this and give me your impression, Steve?”

Steve inserted the chip into a slot on his laptop and listened as the first message played.  He turned to Nick and said, “I suggest you call him back and…”

“No, not that one,” Nick said.  “And you can skip the second one, too.  It’s the third message that has me concerned.”

Steve listened to the third message and then looked back at Nick.  “Do you know who that was?”

Nick shook his head.  “I didn’t recognize the voice, but Abby seems to think it was her ex-boyfriend; a guy named Paul Cain.  It sounded like he is the jealous type and I’m worried that he may try to get back together with Abby and if John is standing in his way, I’m concerned that there may be real trouble brewing.  Can you at least look this guy up in the system?  From what Abby told us, this Paul Cain was just released from prison.”

Steve held up one index finger, swiveled around in his seat and opened his laptop program for criminal records.  He typed in Paul Cain in the search engine and slid sideways in his chair so that Nick could read the results from his screen.  When Nick had finished, Steve said, “This guy doesn’t strike me as the brightest bulb on the tree.  He served three and a half years of a three year sentence.  Apparently this guy doesn’t learn his lesson.  What would you like me to do, Nick?”

“I don’t know, Steve.  What can you do at this point?  He hasn’t really done anything yet, but I sure don’t want to wait around until he does.”

“How about if I put out a bulletin on him so my patrolmen can keep an eye on him?  I can send a black and white to this Paul Cain’s address to have a talk with him, if that’ll make you feel better.  Aside from that, I don’t know what else I can do until he gets out of line.  I’m sure he’s got to be out on parole and if he breaks any of the terms of that parole, we can send him back to prison.  And we’ll be sure he knows that.”

Nick stood now and offered his hand to the lieutenant.  “Thanks, Steve; I’ll rest easier knowing you and your men are on the alert with this anger management dropout.”

“Say hi to John when you see him and tell him not to worry,” Steve said as Nick left his office.

Nick hurried back to his office to find just Abby there, still working on her files.  “Where’s John?” Nick asked.

“He called the man back who had left that first message this morning and agreed to meet him at his house,” Abby explained.  “He said he’d call when he was finished with the interview.”

John looked at the address he had written on his notepad and made it to the man’s address fifteen minutes later.  The interview took him twenty-five minutes.  He got the man’s signature on one of his contracts and collected a two day deposit for the job before he left.  He had told the client that he’d get started on his case right after lunch that same day and drove back to his office to lay out his strategies for the case.  John pulled back into the Cahuenga Building parking lot and got out of his car, carrying the contract for his latest client.  Before he had made it to the parking lot entrance, John felt something hard pressing in his back.

A gruff voice that John had heard earlier that day on his answering machine said, “I take it you would be John Cooper.”

John swallowed hard and said, “I, uh,…”

“Don’t talk, just listen,” the gruff voice said.  “Stay away from Abbey Ross; understand?  I ain’t gonna tell you twice.  Next time I have to tell you, you won’t wake up.”

“But I…,” was all John could answer before he felt the hard object come down hard on his head.  He blacked out and fell just this side of the entrance.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out but when he finally came to again, he could hear the insistent ringing of the cell phone in his pocket.  He tried to move but the pain was too much and he just lay back down again as the phone kept ringing in his ear, exacerbating the pounding in his head.

“He’s not answering,” Nick told Abby.  “But then again we usually turn our cell phones off while we’re interviewing potential clients.  Nick disconnected the call, took a seat behind his desk and suddenly felt the rumbling in his stomach.  He turned to Abby and asked if she wouldn’t mind going down to the corner for a couple of hot pretzels and a couple cups of Pepsi.

Abbey agreed that she would but declined Nick’s offer to treat her as well.  “I had a good breakfast,” she explained.  “Maybe a little closer to lunch I might be hungry.  Thanks anyway; I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll try John’s phone again,” Nick said as Abbey left the office and headed for the elevator.

Abby stepped off the elevator just as Nick had dialed John’s phone again.  Abby was about to walk toward the front entrance when she heard a muffled ringing coming from the area near the rear entrance.  She stopped and listened more closely before stepping over to the back door.  As soon as she opened the door, the ringing got louder and she immediately saw John lying there on the asphalt.  She quickly knelt by his side and plucked the phone from his pocket.  She could see that it was Nick calling and quickly answered John’s phone.  “Nick,” almost yelled.  “It’s John; he lying here at the parking lot door.  You’d better come down here right away.”

Stay right there,” Nick replied.  “I’m coming right now.

Abby disconnected Nick’s call and dialed 9-1-1, requesting an ambulance at this location.  As soon as she disconnected that call, Nick appeared at the back door and knelt next to his son, whose eyes were beginning to open as he moaned.  “John, what happened; who did this to you?”

Abby lifted John’s head and cradled it in her lap.  She laid her hand on the back of John’s head to help his sit up.  That’s when she felt something warm and wet.  When she pulled her hand back, she could see blood on it.

Just then the ambulance appeared in the parking lot and two attendants in white got out to examine the prone man as Abby stepped out of their way.  “What do we have here?” one of the attendants asked.

“That’s my son, John,” Nick said.  “It looks like someone hit him on the head from behind.  Abby here found him unconscious with a gash to the back of his head.”

The attendant wrapped John’s neck in a white plastic brace while his partner prepared a bandage and wrapped John’s head in white gauze.  Once they had John prepped for transportation to the emergency room they loaded him into the back of their wagon.  Before they closed the door, Nick stopped them and told them that he’d be riding along with John.  Before the wagon doors closed he told Abby to keep an eye on the office while he was gone.  She agreed and returned to the office to wash John’s blood off her hand.

John’s wound looked worse than it really was and after a thorough examination by the attending doctor, John was allowed to leave with Nick helping him out of the hospital.  It wasn’t until they two were standing outside the emergency room that Nick realized he’d ridden here in the ambulance and needed a ride back to his office.  He dialed Cooper Investigations and listened as the phone rang nine times, ten, eleven before he hung up and looked at John.

“Abby doesn’t answer,” Nick said.  “Maybe she was in the bathroom when I called.  I’ll give her another minute and try her again.”  He gave her two minutes and called again with the same results.  He looked at John.  “Something’s not right here; we’d better get back there right away.”  He called for a cab and made it back to his office building fifteen minutes later.  When the two of them got back to the office, they found it empty.  They also found an uncharacteristic mess on Abby’s desk.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Nick said to John.  “Do you remember anything about your attack in the parking lot?  Did this guy do or say anything before he hit you?”

John thought back and hour and a half and said, “Some guy with a deep voice told me to stay away from Abby and when I tried to answer him, that’s when he hit me.  Dad, it sounded exactly like the same voice from the answering machine.  It’s got to be Paul Cain; no two ways about it.  You’d better call Lieutenant Stone right now.”

Nick dialed the number and waited.

“Stone.”

“Steve,” Nick said in a frantic voice.  “I think it’s Paul Cain.  He slugged John and now Abby is missing; we’re pretty sure he took her.  Can you come over here right away and would you send out a couple of units to find Abby, please?”

“I’m on it, Nick,” Stone said.  “Sit tight; I’ll be right there.”

Lieutenant Stone showed up several minutes later and questioned John before looking at the bandage on the back of his head.  “You say this Cain fellow used to be Abby’s ex-boyfriend?”

John nodded his head and said, “It was a surprise for me, too.  I just heard about him today.”

Stone pulled out his notepad and wrote EBF (ex-boyfriend) on the blank page and kept writing down what John was telling him.  “He can’t get far,” Stone told John.  “I sent a unit to his apartment; they’ll call me with any updates.  Just don’t you try to go after this guy.  He’s my problem now.”

John reluctantly agreed to stay out of it but he ached to know where Abby was at this moment and what was happening to her.  Nick turned to Stone and said, “There must be something I can do to help you with this one, Steve.”

Stone laid his hand on Nick’s forearm and said softly, “Not this time, Nick.  It’s just a matter of time before we catch up with Cain.  Let us handle it, please.”

Nick exhaled deeply and nodded in agreement as Lieutenant Stone headed for the office door.  “I’ll keep you posted on any progress.”

Nick and John nervously paced their office floor, anxious to hear something; anything from Stone.  Three hours had passed and they were about to lock up the office and call it a day when they heard footsteps coming down the hall toward their office.  They both held their breath and waited as the door opened and Abby stepped in, sporting a black eye, a cut lip and scrapes on both of her palms.  Her hair was a mess.

John’s eyes got big as saucers as he looked over Abby’s battered face.  He hurried up to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight for a moment before releasing her and stepping back for a better look.  “Are you all right?” He asked.  “What are you doing here; how did you get away from Cain?”

While John was questioning Abby, Nick was busy dialing Steve Stone’s cell phone.  He filled Steve in on these latest developments and asked if there was any trace of Paul Cain yet.

“Nick,” Stone began, “My men found Cain in a stolen car but he was alone.  He outran our patrol car and he’s still on the loose.  I’m glad to hear that Abby managed to get away from him.  All of you stay put; I’m coming back there right away.  Is she all right?”

“She’s got one hell of a shiner and a cut lip, plus a few other abrasions, but all things considered, she’s in relatively good shape,” Nick explained.  “We’ll take several pictures of her face before we get her cleaned up and bandaged.  We’ll hold off with the questions until you get here.  I’m sure she doesn’t want to have to relive this whole ordeal more than once.”

Stone made it back to the Cooper office twenty minutes later and found Abby and the two Coopers sitting on the leather sofa beneath the south window.  Nick got up but told Abby to stay where she was.  Stone pulled the client’s chair away from John’s desk and slid it in front of Abby before he pulled out his notepad and pencil.  Even before he began with the formal questions, Stone asked Abby is she was all right.

“I’ll live,” Abby said.

“How did you manage to get away from Cain?” Stone asked.

Abby squeezed John’s hand and then looked up at the lieutenant.  “He stole some car off the street even before he caught up with John in the parking lot and slugged him.  Then he came up here and told me he had talked to John and had agreed to leave me alone and get on with his life.  Then he said that John was downstairs waiting for me.  Looking back, I suspect that he told me that so I would come quietly with him to the parking lot.  As soon as I saw John lying there at the back door, I tried to run but he grabbed me and hit me in the face before he half dragged, half carried me to that stolen car and drove off.”

Stone wrote feverously to get all this information down and then said, “Go on, Miss Ross.”

Abby took a deep breath and said, “He drove out of the parking lot and then went east on the boulevard for a while.  He took me to some apartment building and told me to co-operate unless I wanted another black eye.  I calmed down a little and walked with him inside the apartment.  After a while I told him that I needed to use the bathroom and he agreed but stood outside the bathroom door the whole time.  I yelled through the door at him that I needed a little privacy.  When I heard his step away from the door, I slid the bathroom window up and crawled out, dropping to the ground below.  That was when I hit my face on the window sill and cut my lip.”

“So he didn’t do that to you?” Nick asked.

“No, just the black eye,” Abby explained.

Stone nodded, jotted down this new information and asked her to continue with her story.

“I just ran as fast as I could between a few houses for a minute.  That’s when I heard Paul yelling after me.  I ducked into the nearest garage I could find and stood still and quiet until I heard him run past me.  I waited a few minutes to make sure he wouldn’t come back that way and then I eased myself back out of the garage and just kept running back to this office.  That’s about all there is to tell.”

“Thank you, Miss Ross,” Stone said, closing his notepad and dropping it back into his shirt pocket.  He slid John’s chair back over to his desk and just stood there, not sure what to do next when his cell phone rang.  “Stone; uh huh.  Good work; no don’t bring him here, just take him back to the station and I’ll meet you both there.  Give me about ten minutes.”  He disconnected the call and turned to Abby.  “We got him; well, my men got him.  He was still driving around in that stolen car when they pulled him over.  He gave up without a fight.  It’s over, Miss Ross; you can relax now; Paul Cain is going back to prison for a long, long time.”

Upon hearing the news, Abby broke down and cried, burying her head in John’s chest.  John looked up at Stone and silently mouthed, “Thank you.”

“Well,” Stone said, “I’d better get back to the station and help process our prisoner.”  He patted Abby on her shoulder and said, “I’ll need you to stop in at the station and give us your formal statement.  Maybe you could do that later today or first thing tomorrow morning.  Don’t worry, you won’t have to face Cain again; at least not until his trial.”  Stone left the office and walked down to the elevator.

On the last day of the month Paul Cain’s trial began.  It lasted just two days and he was found guilty of assault on John as well as the kidnapping of Abby Ross.  The jury was out for just four hours and came back with guilty verdicts on all counts.  He’d be going away for at least twenty-five years this time.

Abby and John could breathe easier now.  Their life could only get better from here on out.

Someone You’d Least Suspect

It was a bright sunny morning in Hollywood and the sidewalks were bustling with tourists, most of whom had their eyes riveted on the stars’ names on the sidewalk.  Stars of movies, television and radio had their names immortalized on a brass star.  These stars covered the sidewalks up and down Hollywood Boulevard as well as on a portion of Vine Street.  As if cell phones weren’t enough of a distraction for pedestrians as they traversed the famous Hollywood thoroughfare, they also had these stars to contend with.  More than one pedestrian had been struck down in traffic as their attentions were diverted elsewhere.

That’s probably why no one noticed when the little girl with the flowery backpack innocently walked into Bob’s Coffee Shop half a block east of Cahuenga Boulevard on the south side of the street.  She looked like someone you’d least suspect of any wrongdoing.  However, everyone noticed thirty seconds later when the front windows of that coffee shop exploded and blew out into the street with enough force to shower the opposite side of the street with window glass, blood and flesh particles.

As it happened, just about that same time, private investigator Nick Cooper had been standing at the south window in his office on the northeast corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga when the blast had occurred.  It startled him and he recoiled in horror upon seeing the death and destruction, falling back onto his butt.  He had let out an involuntary yelp and even his son, John, at the next desk over nearly fell out of his chair.

“Dad,” John said.  “What in the hell is going on out there?”

Nick got up off the floor and hurried back to the window.  By now John was also staring out at the carnage of what used to be Bob’s Coffee Shop.  Both men stared incredulously at all the pedestrians now running for their lives and screaming.  Off in the distance they could hear the scream of several sirens getting closer.  The first emergency vehicle to arrive was a black and white patrol car from the Hollywood branch of the L.A.P.D. whose precinct house was a mere four blocks to the south.

Two cops emerged from the cruiser and immediately got to work, diverting traffic and pedestrians away from the explosion location.  Soon afterwards several more police cars filled the streets.  Their occupants set up barricades and crime scene tape around the entire area.  Two fire trucks arrived shortly after, along with several ambulances.  The entire block east of Cahuenga had been shut down and traffic on the boulevard had come to a complete halt as police tried to divert the vehicles back the way they’d come.

Nick and John locked up their office and hurried down three flights to the street to get a closer look at this terrible event.  A terrorist attack was the first thought that came to John, while Nick figured it could have been a ruptured gas main.  As they both got closer to the intersection, they recognized two of the police officers directing traffic.  One was a sergeant named Kenny Nolan and the other was his partner, a rookie named Ted Brewster.

Nick called out to Sergeant Nolan.  “Kenny, do you know what happened here?”

Nolan looked back and recognized Nick from having interacted with him in the past.  He waved him off and yelled back, “We’re not sure at this point; we may not find out for another couple of hours.”

Nick waved back, above the din of the crowd.  “Thanks anyway.”  He and John couldn’t get any closer and decided to return to their office where they had a much better view.

Across the street and half a block east of the explosion, two men looked out the window of a third story apartment.  They could easily see ground zero from where they stood.  One of the men smiled wryly and said to his companion, “And that’s how it’s done, Sid.  You can bet that ol’ Doug Bender didn’t make it through that blast.”

Sidney Doyle and his cohort, Larry Bullock had done their job well.  Douglas Bender had been scheduled to testify in court in three days concerning the illegal activities of Sid and Larry’s boss, Arthur Chase.  Larry had been the one with his finger on the detonator while Sid watched through his binoculars as the little girl with the backpack had entered the coffee shop.  The little girl’s backpack had been rigged with three pounds of plastic explosives with a video transmitter on the front straps.  Sid was able to watch and listen in as the little girl walked up to Douglas Bender and verified who he was before he nodded to Larry, who simply pressed the button on the black box in his hands, silencing Bender forever.

It was too bad for the kid, though, Sid thought.  But she was what they had considered collateral damage in order to get the job done.  No one, including Douglas Bender would have suspected the innocent looking little girl of being the harbinger of death.  The ten dollars they had given the kid to approach Bender would never get the chance to be spent on candy or ribbons.  In fact, even if the girl had made it out alive, she couldn’t have spent just half of a ten dollar bill.  Sid had the other half of the bill in his pocket and had promised the little girl that she’d get the other half after she spoke to Doug Bender.  That was a safe bet, Sid thought.

Larry packed up the detonator and the transmitter and cocked his head toward the door.  “Come on, Sid, we gotta get out of here.  The cops will be crawling all over these building soon enough.”

Sid took his binoculars with him, leaving an empty room with not so much as a single fingerprint behind.  They hurried down to their car, which had been parked behind this building, ready for a fast getaway.  They both had to report back to Chase with the detailed results of their efforts.  Chase had promised both assassins a bonus for a successful job and had arranged to meet them in Griffith Park for the payoff.  Doyle and Bullock made it to the park twenty minutes later and parked where they had been told.  A minute later Chase’s limo pulled up behind them and Arthur Chase’s driver got out and approached the two men.

“Did you bring the detonator and the transmitter?” the driver asked.

Bullock got out of the car and showed Chase’s driver the two pieces of equipment.  He was instructed to lay both pieces on the front seat of chase’s limo.  Doyle did the same with his binoculars.

“Wait right here while I get your pay from Mr. Chase,” the driver told the two men.  He stepped to the rear of the limo and waited as the back window came down and Chase handed his driver something the other two men couldn’t see.  The driver returned to the two men and said, “Mr. Chase said to thank you both for a job well done; and he even included a bonus for you both.”  With that he produced a .45 caliber automatic with a silencer on it and put one bullet each into the two men’s chests.  When both men were lying on the ground, he put one more bullet into each of their heads and returned the gun to Arthur Chase through the back window.  He got back behind the wheel and drove out of the park again.

“Well done, Jackson,” Chase told his driver and instructed him to drive back to his gated mansion.

Cleanup at the coffee shop had taken the rest of that day and soon traffic on the boulevard was moving again.  Cleanup inside the coffee shop would continue for the next six days as evidence was collected and bodies were slowly identified.  The final body count stood at nineteen, including customers and employees.  They were also able to identify the remains of Douglas Bender through dental records.  Identifying the little girl proved to be the most difficult, since she had no criminal record or even dental records to refer to.  They would eventually get around to filling in the name on her toe tag but for now, authorities were more focused on the remains of the backpack she had been wearing when she entered the coffee shop.

Jack McMasters and his partner, Phil Ryerson from the crime lab were able to isolate certain chemical traces from the inside of the backpack.  There was enough plastic explosive residue left to catalog it and from there, finding bits and pieces of the explosive device itself soon fell into place.  They were also able to find just one half of a ten dollar bill that the little girl had on her when she died.  It had been neatly folded and stuffed into her shoe for safe keeping.

Captain Tim Murphy and his lieutenant, Steven Stone visited the crime lab later that day.  Murphy was in a foul mood, what with the mayor and the governor breathing down his neck, demanding results.  Murphy approached the two crime lab techs and looked at Ryerson.  “Phil,” Murphy said.  “Tell me that you found something we can use to get this case moving in the right direction.”

Before Ryerson could answer, Stone’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket.  “Stone,” he said.  “Is that right; where and when?  Bring them in to the morgue; I’ll meet you there.  Call me back when you get in.”  Stone turned to his captain and said, “Looks like we might have out first break in the case, Captain.  A couple from Glendale stumbled upon two bodies in Griffith Park.  Both were shot twice and left there as if someone wanted them to be found.  They’re bringing them back to the morgue.”

“And just how does that connect to the case we’re working on now?”

“Phil,” Stone began.  “You said in your earlier report that you found half of a ten dollar bill in that little girl’s shoe?”

Ryerson nodded.  “I have it right here.”  He produced a plastic evidence bag with a torn half of a ten dollar bill and held it up for Stone to examine.

Stone took the bag from Ryerson and showed it to the captain.  “The first officers on the scene went through the dead men’s pockets and found a ten dollar bill torn in half.  What do you want to bet it matches up with this half?”

The captain took in all this new information and said, “Call that officer back and tell him to bring that half a bill directly to the crime lab when they get here with those bodies.”

“Yes, sir,” Stone said and plucked his cell phone from his pocket.

Fifteen minutes later, the two bodies were lying on slabs in the morgue and the officer, a cop named Glen Carmichael stepped off the elevator and saluted his captain when he saw him.  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes,” Murphy replied.  “I want to see that half a bill you collected earlier.”  Carmichael handed the captain a plastic evidence bag containing half of a ten dollar bill.  Murphy held it up alongside the one he’d gotten from Ryerson.  They looked to be a perfect match.  He turned to Ryerson and said, “Get these two halves under the microscope so we can confirm that they are a match.”

A minute later, Ryerson summoned the captain over to his microscope and told him to have a look for himself.  Murphy took a look and stood up again.  “No question about it; they match.  Now we have some place to start looking.”  He turned to Carmichael.  “Good work, Officer.  You can join your partner again.”  He turned to Stone and said, “Come on; let’s get down to the morgue and see what we can learn about those two men.”

Doctor Adam Kline was bent over one of the corpses, examining the two bullet holes when Captain Murphy and Lieutenant Stone walked in.  He looked up and said, “Captain, this is a rare treat.  I almost never get to see you anymore since you were promoted to captain.  I suppose you’re here to look into these two men that were just brought in.”

“What can you tell me, Dr. Kline?” Murphy said.

“No need to be so formal,” Kline said.  “Just call me Adam if you will; and may I call you Tim?”

Tim agreed that he could and got back to the issues at hand.  “What did you find so far?”

Adam pointed to one of the two bullet holes in this first victim before handing over the two slugs he had found inside.  “They look to be .45 caliber slugs.  I haven’t opened the second man up yet but it’s a sure bet that his bullets will match these.  What do you make of it, Tim?”

Tim slipped into a pair of surgical gloves before taking the slugs from Adam.  He bounced them on his palm for a second or two and said, “These are slugs from a .45 all right.  I’ll take these back up to the lab and run them through ballistics for a match.  Put the slugs from that other corpse aside; I’ll send the crime lab down to get them later.  Thanks a lot, Adam; you may have just helped solve this one.”

Murphy and Stone left the morgue and returned to the crime lab on the second floor.  Murphy left the slugs with Phil and asked to be notified as soon as they had a match from the database.  Before the two cops left, Phil said, “Uh, Captain, before you leave I think you might want to have a look at this.”  He led Murphy and Stone over to another table that held bits and pieces from the little girl’s backpack.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Murphy asked.

Phil help up one small shard of plastic and said, “This is part of a video recording unit, Captain.  We recovered it from the backpack that little girl was wearing on her back.  The recording device was packed in with the explosive charge so there wasn’t much left of it to examine.  It would appear that the camera and microphone were integrated into the backpack’s straps.”

Murphy snapped his fingers and pointed at Phil.  “So that’s how they did it.  From whatever vantage point the killers were hiding at they could see what the girl saw and knew exactly when to detonate the bomb.  That poor kid must have thought she’d get the other half of that ten spot when she finished talking to Bender.  She never even got a chance to see daylight again.  Those bastards blew her up along with everyone else in that coffee shop.”

Captain Murphy returned to his office and told Lieutenant Stone to stay with it and to let him know if he turned up anything else.  Stone agreed that he would and left the captain to take care of business.  Stone decided to check in with some of his snitches and see if any of them knew anything that he could use.  As he was heading out the back door of the Twelfth Precinct to the parking lot he ran into Nick Cooper, who was just coming in.  “Nick, what brings you here?”

“Curiosity more than anything else,” Nick replied.  “Are you having any luck on that bombing case?”

Stone had no particular place to start looking for his snitches and decided he could spare a couple of minutes bringing Nick up to speed on the case.  “I was just heading out to check in with a few of my more reliable informants to see if any of them could shed some light on this mess.  You know, Nick, sometimes you and John seem to dig up more than most of my snitches.  Suppose I just start with you; have you heard anything through your connections?”

Nick thought about it for a moment and shook his head.  “I wish I could say I had something you could use but no, I haven’t heard anything that would help you.  I can ask John when I get back to the office.  I’ll have him call you if he hears anything.  So, what’s the latest on the bomb case?  Are you any closer to finding the killers?”

“Maybe just a little,” Stone said.  “We think we have the actual killers on slabs in the morgue, but you know, the more we dig into it, the more it seems that those two guys were patsies set up to take the fall.  What we need to do now is find the person who hired them.  Oh, and Phil in the crime lab found traces of some recording device in with the remains of the backpack.”

“Backpack?” Nick asked.

Stones sighed heavily.  “We also discovered that the bomb came into that coffee shop in the backpack of some poor little girl.  And get this; more pieces of recording equipment were also found in the backpack straps, so that means that someone was monitoring that little girl’s progress and knew when to set off the bomb.”

“I’ll mention this to John when I get back,” Nick said.  “I’d better let you get back to your job.  Good luck with it.”  The two men parted ways in the parking lot and each drove off in different directions.

Nick was back in his office several minutes later and found John on his laptop, transferring some pictures from his phone onto the hard drive on his laptop.  “What are you up to?” Nick asked.

John finished what he was doing and then looked up at his dad.  “I’m just saving some more pictures from my last case onto my hard drive as a backup.  You know; in case I ever need to refer back to them in the future.”

Nick took a seat behind his desk and just sat there, lost in thought.  After a moment he looked back at John and asked, “What happens when you fill up your hard drive?  You won’t be able to save any more pictures after that.”

John had to smile at his father’s old fashioned ideas of technology.  “Dad, have you ever heard of that new technology called the cloud?”

“How’s that; you daydreaming again about what you see in the clouds?”

“Not that kind of cloud,” John said.  “It a storage location out there somewhere in cyberspace where you can keep copies of important documents or videos or pictures.  You really should look into it and get your head out of the nineties.  If you don’t keep up with the latest technology has to offer, you’re gonna be left behind.  If you like, I can show you how it works.”

Nick waved him off and said, “Some other time; right now I can’t think of a thing I’d even want to store in some cloud.  But you’ll be the first to hear about it if I do.”

John went back to his laptop and wondered why he even bothered to try to teach his old dad new tricks.

Nick sat there, lost in his daydream for a few more minutes when an old sixties tune from the Rolling Stones popped into his head.  Suddenly he heard Mick Jagger singing, Hey, hey, you, you get off of my cloud and that led him to thinking about what John had just told him about external storage sites.  He stood up and stepped over to John’s desk now and stared down at his son.

John looked up and said, “Did you want something, Dad?”

Nick wagged his index finger at John and replied, “Tell me a little more about this cloud storage system.  Not the whole ball of wax, but just the essentials.”

John explained how the system worked and by the time he had finished, Nick waved him off and said, “Thanks, I think I have enough to go on for now.”  He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.  “I won’t be long; I’m just going over to talk to Phil Ryerson at the crime lab.”

Phil Ryerson was still examining particles and pieces of what was left of the recording device he’d found earlier.  He looked up when Nick walked in.  “Nick,” Phil said.  “You look like you’re lost.  Who are you looking for?”

“Actually,” Nick said.  “I was looking for you.  Lieutenant Stone was telling me about the evidence you found in that backpack, or what was left of it anyway.”

“And?”

“And I know you probably can’t retrieve anything useful from it but how about this?”  Nick went on to explain what John had told him about this cloud storage system and it didn’t take Phil long to see where Nick was going with this new information.

Phil’s eyes lit up when the reality of what Nick was telling him hit him.  “I’ve heard a little about this cloud system to mentioned, but I’m afraid I’m not very well versed on the subject.  How can I use it to get what I need?”

Nick held up both palms toward Phil and had to admit that he didn’t know much more about it either.  “But I do know some whiz kid at the computer store who might be able to shed some light on it for you.  His name is Jason and he’s helped out with some of our technical needs on more than one occasion.  Can you spare a few minutes to come with me and ask him for yourself?  I’ll introduce you to him.  He works just a few blocks from here on the boulevard.”

The two men left in Nick’s car and parked around the back of the computer store.  They entered the store and Nick immediately found Jason tinkering with a desktop computer setup near the rear of the store.  Jason smiled when he recognized Nick.

“Mr. Cooper,” Jason said.  “Good to see you again; what brings you here today?”

Nick and Phil took Jason aside and briefly explained what they wanted to do.  “Is that even possible?” Phil asked.

“Anything’s possible,” Jason said.  “But you’d have to narrow it down a bit for me before I would even know where to start looking.  I would need the user’s name at the very least.  A password would be helpful but not necessary.  Whose account will I be looking for?”

Phil Ryerson produced a folded piece of paper from his pocket and read off both names of the men at the morgue.  “Either one of these men could have the account, but what if this is all I have to go on and the account actually belongs to a third party?”

“Then it could be a little trickier,” Jason said.  “Did you manage to get a serial number off the recorder?”

Phil shook his head.  “We were lucky to find what we did.  There wasn’t any piece large enough to hold a serial number.  Suppose we try both of these names first and see where that leads us.”

“Come with me,” Jason said and led his two guests into a back room where he had his own computer setup running.  “Read me that first name.”

“Sidney Doyle,” Phil said and waited.  When Jason couldn’t find anything with that name he tried Larry Bullock and got a hit.

“Here we go,” Jason said.  “Larry Bullock is the owner of record of a particular cloud address.”  He tapped a few keys and came up against a brick wall.  Not one to give up he tried a few of his computer geek tricks and said, “It looks like I’m getting close.  It’s asking for a password, but I know a way around that.  Hang on; let me try something else.”  He tapped a few more keys and two minutes later he smiled widely and clapped his hands together.  “Got it; I’m in.  Now what do you need?”

“See if he has any videos stored in his account,” Phil said, crossing his fingers and holding his breath.

Jason found a directory with a list of six files whose dates began three weeks earlier and ended with one from the same day as the explosion.  He started with the most recent and opened it onto his screen and hit the Play button.  The video showed the stars on Hollywood Boulevard from the three foot height level and the video was moving slowly forward.

“That has to be the video from the front straps of that little girl’s backpack,” Phil said.  The video continued until the wearer of this unit turned and pulled a door open to a coffee shop and stepped inside.  There were a dozen people milling about inside as the video advanced toward a man sitting in one of the booths.  He could hear the voice of the little girl saying, “Hey mister, are you Mr. Bender?”

The video showed Douglas Bender smiling at the little girl and telling someone off screen, “How cute is that?”  Doug Bender never got to say another word before the screen was filled with static and the video went dead.

Phil turned to Jason and said, “Can you transfer a copy of that onto a jump drive so I can take it back to the crime lab?”

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Jason had transferred a copy of the death video to a jump drive, along with the other five videos in that directory and handed it to the crime lab tech.  “No problem,” Jason said.  Do you need anything else from me; otherwise I have to get back out on the floor before my boss discovers me missing.”

“Thanks a million,” Nick told Jason and handed him a twenty dollar bill for his time.  He and Phil left the store and headed back to the Twelfth Precinct crime lab, stopping along the way to look for Lieutenant Stone.

“He’s still out,” Stone’s secretary told Nick.  “I don’t expect him back for at least another hour.  Can I give him a message for you when he comes back?”

Nick shook his head and thanked her anyway.  He turned to Phil and said, “Come on; we can go and see Captain Murphy instead.  I’m sure he’ll be anxious to see what we’ve uncovered.”

Captain Murphy was in his office, sitting behind his desk when Nick knocked and let himself and Phil Ryerson in, closing the door behind them.  “Captain,” Ryerson said.  “You have to see this.”  He held up the jump drive.

“What is it?” Murphy asked.

“Nick Cooper here came to see me in the lab and suggested I look into something called the cloud,” Ryerson began.  When he saw the look of confusion on the captain’s face, He went on.  “Long story short; the cloud is a storage facility for computer files.  As it turns out that encounter at the coffee shop and the subsequent explosion was recorded with a device in that little girl’s backpack and a copy of that recording went to this cloud location.  It’s all right here on this recording.”  He handed the jump drive to the captain, who slipped it into one of the USB slots on his laptop.

The video played on the captain’s laptop and a minute later ended with static.  The captain looked back up at Ryerson and said, “Uh huh; it shows what we suspected all along, but we already have Larry Bullock’s name and I didn’t hear that little girl call out any other names besides Douglas Benders.  How does this help find Bullock’s boss?”

The blank look on Ryerson’s face told the captain that this video wouldn’t be much help to him.  He was about to remove the jump drive when he noticed five other files on it and decided to see what they held.  He looked at Ryerson and asked, “Have you looked at any of these other files yet?”

Ryerson shook his head.  “Not yet, Captain.  I just wanted to get that first file over to you a fast as I could.”

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” Murphy said.  The first file on the list consisted of nothing more than the camera operator saying, “Test, test, test” over and over and moving the camera around to make sure it was recording.  It ended after fifteen seconds.  The second video showed a full frontal shot of Larry Bullock, signifying that Bullock’s partner, Sidney Doyle must have been operating the camera.  They could hear Doyle telling Bullock, “Say something, Larry; I want to check the sound levels.”  Larry waved his arms around and repeated the test vocals again before the video stopped and turned sideways on the screen.

Nick turned his head sideways and remarked, “It looks like Doyle set the camera on its side without shutting it off.”  All they could see from this angle was the baseboards of the room the two men were testing from but couldn’t see either man in the shot.  They could, however still hear what both men were saying.

“Mr. Chase is gonna like what we did with this video setup,” one of the voices, probably Bullock’s, said.  The other voice, undoubtedly Doyle’s replied, “Oh man, he’s sure to give us each a bonus before this is done.”

Captain Murphy smiled now.  “We got him,” he said.  “We got his sorry ass.  That has to be Arthur Chase they’re talking about.  What a knucklehead, not to make sure that none of the video got stored anywhere.  He probably thought he was home free.”  Murphy picked up his intercom phone and told his secretary to locate Lieutenant Stone and tell him to come back immediately.  She said she would and hung up.

Lieutenant Steve Stone made it back to the Twelfth Precinct twenty minutes later and let himself into the captain’s office.  He looked puzzled when he saw Nick Cooper and Phil Ryerson sitting there with the captain.  “You wanted to see me, Captain,” Stone said.

“Yes, I want you to pickup Arthur Chase right away and arrest him for mass murder,” Murphy said.  “I’ll explain everything later when you bring him back here.  Better take some backup with you.”

“Right away, sir,” Stone said and left the captain’s office again.

Murphy turned to Nick and said, “Nick, I can’t tell you grateful I am that you got involved with this case.  We might not have put it all together without your help.  You can be sure that if I come up with any work for you that I’ll keep you in mind.  Tell John thanks, too, for filling you in about the cloud.  You can bet that from now on, my men and I are going to educate ourselves on the latest technology.  You never know when it could come in handy.”

“You’re certainly welcome, Tim,” Nick replied.  “I can’t wait to get back and tell John just how helpful he’s been.  And I’ll tell him about your compliments.”  Nick left Ryerson there in the captain’s office and returned to his own office.  He had a lot to tell John and he was eager to get started.

No Alibi

It was Private Investigator Nick Cooper’s day off so his son and business partner, John was running the office for the day.  Nick hadn’t had a day off for more than six weeks, not counting Sundays and he just needed to get away and clear his mind of all the excess baggage that had accumulated during that time.  He decided to leave his cell phone off and just get away from everything and everyone and just spend some quality time alone with his thoughts.  Griffith Park seemed like the perfect place to help him accomplish this task.

Nick had brought his MP3 player and a pair of headphones along with him and decided to just relax in the park and listen to one of his favorite Lawrence Block audio books.  He drove deep into the park until he found an area with no other people around so he wouldn’t have to hold up his end of a conversation that someone would inevitably want to start with him.  He had found the perfect spot back in the trees where he could lay out his blanket, stretch out in the shade and listen to Block’s Hit Man stories from the first novel.

He parked his car off the road and walked the hundred or so feet where he unfolded his blanket, shook it out and spread it out on a patch of soft grass.  He had brought a small pillow with him that had originally come with his hammock and set it down at the head of the blanket.  Once he had settled in and had gotten comfortable, Nick turned on his MP3 player, slipped the headphones over his ears and laid back to enjoy the first of the Keller stories, Answers to Soldier.

Watching from a distance stood two men, both dressed in casual clothes and both fascinated with the man lying on the blanket.  The first man lifted the binoculars to his eyes and zoomed in on the man with the headphones on the blanket.  He smiled when he recognized a familiar face from Hollywood.  He passed the binoculars to his partner and said, “Take a look, Virgil; it’s him all right.  I’d know that smug face anywhere.”

Virgil rolled the focus wheel until his subject’s face came in clear and replied, “Yup, that’s Cooper.  Gees, Bob, this is perfect.  What a setup; he’d never be able to explain his way out of this one.  Come on; let’s bring Louie over.”

Bob and Virgil turned and walked back to the car they had parked nearby and opened the trunk.  Lying inside, bound hand and foot with duct tape over his mouth and eyes laid Louie, the man these two had been hired to kill.  The two men eased him out of the trunk and carried him to their observation point before removing the tape from his ankles and wrists and letting him walk the rest of the way.  When they got within thirty feet of Cooper, Virgil twisted up the length of duct tape that they had recently removed from Louie’s ankles and fashioned it into a thin rope of sorts.

While Bob held onto Louie’s arms, Virgil positioned himself behind their prisoner and looped the tape rope around Louie’s neck and tightened it ever tighter as Louie tried in vain to yell.  All that came out from behind the tape were muffled sounds that continued until the life had been squeezed out of him and he fell to the ground.  Virgil removed the tape rope from Louie’s neck and then peeled the tape from his mouth and eyes, making sure to wipe any tape residue from those areas with the moist packaged mini towels they had brought for just this purpose.  Satisfied that Louie would never tell anyone anything anymore, Virgil and Bob left him lying there and returned to their car.

Bob slid behind the wheel and drove out of the park, eventually pulling over somewhere on Western Avenue.  Virgil pulled out a recently purchased disposable cell phone and called the Twelfth Precinct to report a murder in Griffith Park and described the approximate area where they claim to have seen the crime happen.  Before the police could question him further on the event, Virgil disconnected the call, removed the battery and sim card, opened his door and discretely dropped the pieces down a storm drain beneath their car, along with the duct tape garrote that had been used to silence Louie forever.  Virgil drove away, satisfied with the job he and Bob had just done.  “Let’s see him try to talk his way out of that one,” Virgil said to Bob.

Bob smiled wryly and replied, “Two birds with one stone.  Louie’s taken care of and so will Cooper once the cops get to the park.”

Nick had listened to most of that first Keller story but managed to nod off before it concluded.  The next thing he knew, he was being jostled awake by a heavy hand on his shoulder.  “Come on, get up,” a serious sounding voice said and then shook the shoulder again.

Nick opened his eyes and pulled the headphones off his ears.  It was then that he looked up to see a uniformed police officer staring down at him.  “What’s going on?” Nick asked and then noticed the cop’s partner reaching down to help him to his feet.  Nick stood now, blinked several times and looked around his blanket area.

“Let’s see some I.D.,” the first cop, a man named Swenson said.  Swenson’s partner wore a name tag that identified him as someone named Karns.  Nick noticed that Officer Karns’ hand was resting on his sidearm.

Nick slowly and deliberately plucked his wallet from his hip pocket and opened it to the driver’s license window.

“Would you take it out of the wallet, please,” Officer Swenson said and stood with his hand out.  He examined Nick’s license and handed it to Karns, who wrote the information on his notepad before handing it back to Nick.

Nick slipped the license back into his wallet and said, “Now, would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

Swenson and Karns each stepped to one side so that Nick could get a look at a body thirty feet away, lying on the grass.  “Would you care to explain that?” Swenson said.

Nick took a closer look at the corpse lying near where he’d been napping and then looked back at Swenson.  “I never saw him before.  He wasn’t here when I first got here.  And I had nothing to do with that.”  He pointed to the body to emphasize his point.

“All right,” Swenson said.  “Turn around and put your hands behind you.”

Nick knew better than to resist and just did as he was told.  As he was being led back to the black and white cruiser parked near the road, another unit arrived, followed closely by a plain black car with two crime technicians.  Nick had already settled into the back seat of the patrol car before the other authorities had taken up their positions around the corpse.

Fifteen minutes later Nick was led in through the back door of the police station and placed in a holding cell.  He had been relieved of his personal possessions, had the cuffs removed and was told to just sit there and be quiet while they catalogued and stored the evidence box with Nick’s things in it, including the blanket, the MP3 player and the headphones.

“When do I get my call?” Nick called out to the jailer.

“Just sit there and be quiet for now,” the jailer replied.  “We’ll get around to you as soon as we can.”

Nick sat back on the bottom bunk in his cell and wondered what he’d done to deserve this kind of treatment.  All he wanted was a quiet day to himself and this is what he got for his troubles.

Half an hour later two ambulance attendants wheeled Louie’s corpse into the morgue, got their paperwork signed by Coroner Adam Kline and left again.  Dr. Kline and his assistant, Ben Turner started undressing the body and preparing it for autopsy.  They automatically rolled his prints and sent them to the crime lab for analysis.  The results were sent to Lieutenant Steve Stone’s office as a matter of procedure.

It took the police another forty-five minutes before one of them returned to Nick’s cell with a phone on a long cord.  The jailer passed the handset through the bars and asked Nick what number he wanted.  Nick recited his office number and waited as the jailer punched it in.  The phone rang four times before the answering machine picked it up, telling the caller to leave a message.  Nick remembered that it was also Abby’s day off and didn’t want this call to count as his one and only call, so he just told the jailer that there was no answer and gave him an alternative to call.

“Cunningham and Delany,” the receptionist said upon picking up the call.  “How may I direct your call?”

“Yes, this is Nick Cooper; I’d like to speak with Mr. Delany, please.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Delany has a client in his office,” the receptionist said.

“What about Mr. Cunningham,” Nick said.

“Hold on while I connect you.”

“Martin Cunningham,” the man who answered said.

“Martin, it’s Nick Cooper.”

“Nick, how are things at…?”

Nick interrupted him.  “Listen Martin, I’m being held in the Hollywood jail for suspected murder.  I need you to come down here right away.  I tried calling my son, John, but he must be out on a case this morning.”

“Sit tight, Nick,” Cunningham said.  “I’ll be right there.  Don’t say a word to anyone until I get there; do you understand?”

“I understand,” Nick replied.  “Please hurry.”  He handed the phone back to the jailer and thanked him before sitting back down on his bunk, trying to play out this strange scenario in his mind.  Who would want to set him up for a crime like this; and why?  He had been so engrossed in his Lawrence Block audio book that he wouldn’t have been able to hear anyone approaching him, and someone must have known that and had taken advantage of the situation.

Thirty-five minutes later Nick could hear more than one set of footsteps coming his way and he stood waiting for them.  It was the jailer and he was leading attorney Martin Cunningham, who was carrying his chocolate brown briefcase with him.  The jailer opened the door and allowed Cunningham to enter, closing the cell door behind him.  Nick sat back down on the bunk and invited his lawyer to join him.

“How did this happen?” Cunningham began.  “And can I assume that you are completely innocent?”

Nick sighed heavily and started with, “I was just enjoying my day off in Griffith Park and was lying on my blanket with my headphones on.  I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew I was being jostled by a couple of cops.”

“What about the dead man?” Cunningham asked.

“I didn’t even know he was there until those same two cops pointed him out to me,” Nick replied.  “Obviously someone saw me lying there and decided that I’d make the perfect patsy for their murder.  I swear I had nothing to do with that man’s death.”

“I believe you Nick, but you have to admit with no one else even close to that area, that you’d be the only suspect.  I stopped by the coroner’s office on my way over here and found out that the body had been dead no more than half an hour before those two officers found you lying there.  What does that tell you?”

Nick sat up a little straighter now and said, “It tells me that he was probably killed close by right about then and dropped right where he was found.  They left him close enough to me to implicate me but not too close as to chance waking me up.”

“My thoughts exactly,” The attorney concurred.  “The first thing we have to do is get a bail hearing for you and get you out of here as soon as possible.  You just leave that part to me; I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything.  Is there anyone you’d like me to call for you?”

“Do you have a slip of paper and a pen?” Nick asked and waited as Cunningham produced both and handed them to Nick.  He wrote down his office number and John’s cell number and was about to hand the slip back when he changed his mind and added Abby Ross’s cell number.  “That last one is my secretary’s cell number but it’s her day off so try John first.”

“I’m on it, Nick,” Cunningham said and rose from the bunk.  He called to the jailer to let him out and then turned back to Nick.  “Be patient, Nick.”

John had just returned from interviewing a potential client that he’d gone to see earlier that day.  His efforts didn’t result in a new client, since what the man was asking turned out to be something that the police could handle for free.  As soon as John pointed that fact out to the man, the interview was over and John left shortly afterwards.  When he got back to the office he checked the answering machine but there were no new messages.  However, when he checked the caller I.D. history, he noticed that he had gotten a call from his father, who hadn’t left any message.  John figured it couldn’t have been important or Nick would have left one.  John had no sooner hung up his jacket and taken a seat behind his desk when his cell phone rang.  “Cooper.”

“Mr. Cooper, this is Martin Cunningham.  I’m your father’s attorney; I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”

“I think you’re right,” John agreed.  “What can I do for you today Mr. Cunningham?”

“I’m calling for your father,” Cunningham began.  “He asked me to call to let you know that he’s being held in the Hollywood police jail for suspicion of murder and he’d like you to stop in and see him as soon as you can.”

“Are you kidding me?” John said.  “Who in their right mind would accuse Dad of killing anyone?”

“I’m afraid it’s true,” the attorney replied.  “He assures me that he’s innocent and I totally believe him, but in the meantime, you’d better get down there and talk to him.”

“Thanks for the call, Mr. Cunningham,” John said.  “I’m leaving right now.  What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to arrange his bail and get him out of there.  Tell him I’m working on it.”

“Will do,” John said and disconnected the call.  He slipped back into his jacket, covering the .38 that hung under his arm.  The Twelfth Precinct was just four blocks south and he made it there in just five minutes.  He checked his gun with the jailer and was led down to Nick’s cell.

The jailer opened the cell door and let John in.  “Just call out when you’re ready to leave,” he told John and returned to his desk.

Nick gave his son a hug and let out a sigh of relief.  “Boy are you a sight for sore eyes.  I take you spoke to Attorney Cunningham.  What did he all tell you about this?”

John said, “Not much; just that you’re here for suspicion of murder.  Dad, what the hell happened?  I thought this was supposed to be your day off to just relax.”

Nick spent the next few minutes bringing John up to speed on what had happened up to this point.  “And, well, here I am.  I don’t know any more than that.”

“What would you like me to do, Dad?”

Nick leaned in closer so he wouldn’t have to talk so loud and said, “First stop by the coroner’s office and see if you can get the victim’s name so you’ll have some source of reference when you check his background.  Once you get that, maybe Steve will share some of his history with you.”

Steve was Lieutenant Steve Stone.

“He really doesn’t have to, you know, and most likely he will insist that you stay out of it, but you know how that goes.”  Nick paused for a moment and then added, “Just step lightly and don’t act too eager to know about the guy.  If Steve won’t help you, just try and find out what you can about him on the web and take it from there.  You know the routine.”

John patted Nick’s shoulder and stood now.  “Don’t worry, Dad, we’ll get to the bottom of this mess.”  He called out to the jailer and left the police end of the building.  The coroner’s office and morgue were situated on the far end of the police building and he found Dr. Kline working in the morgue when he got there.  “Hey, Doc,” John said as he approached.

Dr. Kline turned and gave a half-hearted smile when he recognized John.  “I’m a little busy at the moment but I guess I can spare a minute or two; what’s up?”

John tossed his head toward the body on the slab.  “Is that the guy that they claim Dad killed?”

Dr. Kline just nodded wordlessly and sighed.

“What was the cause of death?” John asked.

Kline pointed to the ligature marks on the victim’s neck.  “He was strangled, no doubt.  Nick doesn’t strike me as the strangling type.  If he had to kill someone I’d have to guess that he’d use his gun.”

“Could be,” John agreed, “But this was not anyone who interacted with Dad, I can guarantee you that much.  I just talked to Dad a few minutes ago and he was napping on a blanket listening to his audio book with headphones at the time.  This whole thing stinks of setup.  What else can you tell me about this guy?  Did you get his name?”

Dr. Kline nodded and glanced at his clipboard.  “Victim’s name was Louis Finch; that’s all I have so far.  The crime lab might be able to tell you more about the man.  If you will excuse me, I have a lot more work to do on him before I can post the body.  Good to see you again, John.”  And with that, Dr. Kline returned to the business of removing and weighing the internal organs.

John left the morgue and knew that the crime lab was not about to share any further information about Louis Finch with him.  He left the Twelfth Precinct and drove back to his office.  On his way there, he called Abby on her cell phone and got her right away.  “Abby, it’s John; did I catch you in the middle of anything important?”

“More important that you?” she said cheerfully.  “What’s up?”

“Listen,” John began.  “I know it’s your day off and all, but something important has come up and I need to know if I can count on your help with it.”  He explained about Nick’s predicament and that he was currently cooling his heels in the county jail.”

“Oh no,” Abby said.  “Poor Nick; of course you can count on me.  What can I do to help?”

“Stay there,” John said.  “I’ll pick you up in a few minutes and we can get started looking into this mess.”  He made back to his own house, which he currently shared with Abby and parked in the driveway.  Abby was waiting at the kitchen door when he let himself in and sat her down at the kitchen counter.  “I don’t think we’ll be able to count on the police or the crime lab to co-operate with us so we’re on our own.  Would you bring your laptop over so we can see what we can find on this Louis Finch on the web?  The court site is usually a good place to start.”

Abby started up her laptop and signed into the circuit court site where she entered Louis Finch into the search engine.  There were several entries for the name, mostly having something to do with jail sentences and the reasons he had spent so much time behind bars.  Abby looked up at John and said, “Do you see this?  It says here Finch was implicated in murders of three tourists way back when but he never served a day for his part it those murders.  It says he was brought in for questioning about his two accomplices but he never named anyone else.  Do you suppose those two had anything to do with Finch’s murder?”

“Hey,” John said.  “If I was one of those other two guys, I’d be a little nervous knowing that the next time Finch was picked up for anything that the police might be able to make him talk.  I’d want to make sure he never got that chance.”

Abby looked puzzled.  “But what can we do about any of this?”

John thought about it for a moment and then said, “You know, I think we may not have any choice but to let the police in on it at this point.  Come on; we’ll go and see Lieutenant Stone.”  The two of them left the house and drove straight to the Twelfth Precinct.

“I’m glad you decided to let me in on this,” Steve Stone said after having talked to John and Abby for just ten minutes.  “Now I have something solid to go on and some place to start looking.  But promise me that from here on out, you two will stay out of this and let us handle it.”

“But what can we do about Dad?” John said.  “You have to know he didn’t have anything to do with that man’s death.”

Stone nodded.  “Yeah, I figured as much, but after all, he was our only suspect and we had to bring him in; you understand.”  He looked from John to Abby and back to John again.  “Don’t worry, as soon as my men bring in those other two men we should have no problem getting at least one of them to drop the dime on the other.  Then we can eliminate Nick as a suspect and get him out of jail.  Just be patient for a little longer and you’ll see; things will work out all right.”  Steve Stone walked with John and Abby back to John’s car.  “I promise I’ll call you as soon as this case breaks, and thanks for your help.”

John and Abby drove off, back to the Cooper office on Hollywood and Cahuenga.  John pulled the ‘Back At’ sign off the outer door and put it back in his desk drawer.  He and Abby dropped down onto the brown leather sofa beneath the south window, exhausted.  John wrapped his arm around Abby’s shoulder and pulled her close.  She rested her head on John’s shoulder and sighed.  By the time the two of them had left the office for the day, they had calmed down considerably.

Early that next day as they both came into work, John’s phone was ringing.  “Cooper Investigations, John speaking.  Yeah, Abby and I were just talking about that earlier this morning.  That’s great news; when do you suppose we could…”

John didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence when the office door opened and Nick stepped in, looking none the worse for wear.  “Never mind, Steve; he just walked in.  I’ll talk to you later.”  John hung up the phone and hurried over to greet his father.  “Dad, they sprung you; what happened?”

Nick stepped closer to the sofa and replied, “Just let me sit first; I’m beat.”  John and Abby each sat on either side of Nick.  Nick started by turning to John with, “Steve tells me that you two helped uncover the identities of two guys who, as it turned out, were the ones who actually killed that guy in the park.  They picked them both up, separated them and laid it on thick, promising each of them a sweet deal if they turned on their partner.  The first guy to roll over was some thug named Virgil Larson.  He sold his partner, some guy named Bob Klaus, down the river for the promise of five years being knocked off his sentence.  Both men are now taking up space in the same cell where they had held me.  How’s that for irony?”

Nick paused long enough for John to give him a good once over to make sure he hadn’t been abused.  John was about to say something when the knock came on the office door and Attorney Martin Cunningham let himself in.  His eyes settled on Nick sitting on the leather sofa and it made him smile.  “I see you’re still all in one piece, Nick.  How do you feel?”

“Like I could crawl in bed and sleep for a week,” Nick replied.  “Which is just what I intend to do once I get a ride home from someone.”

John and Abby stood now, both volunteering to drive Nick back home.  Cunningham held up one palm toward John and said, “Don’t bother; I’m going that way anyway.  I can drop him off.”

“Thanks, Martin,” Nick said and then turned to John.  “While I’m gone would you two go down to the police impound lot and bring my car over to my house for me?  I’d sure appreciate it.”

“Don’t give it a second thought, Dad,” John said and walked with his father as far as the elevator.  “You just take it easy and come back when you’re good and rested.”  The elevator closed and Nick and Cunningham rode it to the lobby.

It had been nearly eight weeks since Nick’s ordeal in the park and he’d all but forgotten about it when the paper came that morning.  There inside on page eight was a small article about two murderers who had been sentenced just a week earlier for their part in the murder of one Louis Finch, 47 from Hollywood.  Nick looked for more information on the subject but found none.  He folded the paper and laid it on his desk.  He sighed once and then was startled somewhat when his desk phone rang.  “Cooper Investigations, Nick speaking.  Oh, hi, Steve.  Yeah, I just read it in this morning’s paper.  Are you kidding me?  When did this happen?  Say, that is good news.  I can’t wait for John to come in this morning so I can bring him up to date.  Thanks for the heads up, Steve.”  Nick hung up the phone while a wide smile crept onto his face and stayed there.

“Morning, Dad,” John said, slipping out of his coat and hanging it on the hook.  “What’s with the smile?  Did you get lucky last night?”

“Better than that,” Nick said.  “Sit down; I’ve just heard some great news.  You remember those two yahoos who framed me for that murder in Griffith Park”

“Vernon and Rob something or other?” John replied.

“Virgil and Bob,” Nick corrected.

“What about ‘em?”

“Do you remember what happened when the police questioned them separately?  Virgil ratted out Bob and supposedly got five years knocked off his sentence.”  The smile on Nick’s face got wider as he continued.  “Anyway, once they were on the inside, Bob managed to get Virgil alone in the laundry and stabbed him twenty-eight times with a makeshift knife.  I guess he really did get a lot of time knocked off his original sentence; about twenty years.  He left prison this morning in a pine box.”

“And what about Bob?” John asked.  “Does he have to pay for killing his partner?”

“I doubt it,” Nick said.  “According to what Steve heard about the incident, another inmate smacked Bob in the head with some blunt, heavy object.”

“Dead?”

“Might as well be,” Nick explained.  “The blow didn’t kill him, but he’ll never be anything more than he is right now—a damned vegetable.  He’s getting out of San Quentin and being transferred to a mental health facility to serve out the rest of his life as a carrot.”

“Maybe we’ll see his name on the hospital menu.” John said, laughing.  “Oh, that reminds me of a good one I just heard.  Some guy was sitting in a Chinese restaurant, thinking about how duckling means little duck.  So, he canceled his order of dumplings.”  When John didn’t get the reaction he was after he added, “Oh, come on, Dad; that was funny and you know it.”

“I suppose,” Nick said, “But not as funny as what happened to those two idiots.”

John couldn’t argue that one.

No Laughing Matter

It was Sunday and the one day for sure when Private Investigator Nick Cooper didn’t have to concern himself with anyone else’s problems.  It was the one day of the week that he could just unwind and worry about no one but himself.  Everyone else’s problems would have to wait until he got back to work the following morning.  Today was all about visiting his parents—at the cemetery.

Nick’s father, Matt was one of the lucky ones.  He led a full and productive life right up to the end.  He didn’t have to linger on life support or live a diminished lifestyle in some nursing home.  He had come back to his old office to visit his son, who had taken the business over from him, becoming the fifth generation to run the P.I. business from that same office since right after World War II.  When Nick offered to go down to the hot pretzel stand that morning and bring one back for Matt as well, he couldn’t have imagined what he’d find when he got back.  Matt had felt a little tired and had lain down on the leather sofa beneath the south window and there he just peacefully passed away with no fuss and no fanfare.

Nick’s mother, Chris, was no so lucky.  A man had broken into their house and had forced Chris to swallow two dozen sleeping pills under the threat of harming Chris’s grandson, John.  He had lulled her into a false sense of security, saying that after he left, that she could call for help and have her stomach pumped.  She never got the chance and just fell into the permanent sleep that took her life.  What was originally suspected to be a suicide was later discovered to have been a murder.  Although it couldn’t bring Chris back, it turned out to be somewhat of a comfort to Matt to know that his wife hadn’t taken her own life after all.

Nick divided the handful of flowers he’d brought and laid half on each side of the headstone.  “Here you go, Mom,” he said and arranged that half of the flowers in some semblance of order.  “I know these are the kind you liked.  Dad didn’t care one way or the other about flowers, but I still gave him half of yours.  I hope you don’t mind.”  Nick also arranged the second half of the flowers on Matt’s side and then stood back up to take in the full effect.  It would have to do until his next visit somewhere down the road.

Nick had just mumbled some personal comments to his parents when he heard a mumbled reply and stood erect, his eyes wide open.  He was sure he was hallucinating but then he heard another mumble of indiscernible words.  It was then that he turned to his right and had just now noticed a woman approximately his own age standing at the grave of space to the right of the Cooper plot.

The woman, suddenly aware that she had been speaking loud enough to disturb this stranger, turned to look at Nick.  “Excuse me, sir,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Nick held one palm up toward the woman and replied, “Not at all; you weren’t disturbing me.  I just stopped by to put some fresh flowers on my parents’ grave.  By the way, my name is Nick Cooper.”  He stepped closer and offered his hand.

The woman shook it and said, “My name is Evelyn Wilson.”  She automatically and unconsciously gestured toward the headstone and said, “And this is my husband, Brian.”  Suddenly she realized what she’d just done and blushed with embarrassment.  “I’m sorry, I’ve been introducing Brian to everyone for twenty-three years; I guess I just slipped out.”

To help alleviate the woman’s embarrassment, Nick gestured toward his parents’ headstone and said, “And this is my Father, Matt and my mother, Christine.”

That made the woman less uncomfortable and she managed a smile.  “How long have your parents been here,” she asked and then looked at the dates carved into the marble.  “Oh, it has been a while, hasn’t it?”  She turned to her husband’s marker and said, “But as you can see, my Brian has only been here for five days.”  She sighed and hung her head.

“Brian Wilson,” Nick said aloud.

Evelyn looked at her visitor and said, “I know what you’re thinking, but he was no relation to that other Brian Wilson.”

“So there’s no Beach Boys connection at all?” Nick said.

“Excuse me, but I was referring to the Brian Wilson who sold cars at that Dodge dealership in the valley and he didn’t have any boys and didn’t care much for the beach, either.”

Nick managed a weak laugh and said, “Sorry, it’s a bad habit of mine when I hear a name that’s the same as someone famous.”

“That other Brian Wilson wasn’t really that famous, either,” Evelyn said.  “Oh I caught his commercials on TV a couple of times, but that only made him famous around here and then only if you caught his commercials.”

Nick gave up trying to connect this Brian Wilson to the world famous singer/composer from the sixties.  He turned back toward Evelyn and asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what did your Brian die from?”

Evelyn’s face fell and she sighed even heavier this time.  “They say he died from a heart attack.”

Nick caught the look in Evelyn’s eyes and said, “Somehow I get the feeling that you don’t share that opinion.  Would you care to tell me about it?  They tell me I’m a good listener.”

Evelyn waved him off.  “Oh, you don’t want to hear this, do you?”

Nick turned and gestured toward a marble bench that sat just three graves to the right and invited Evelyn to sit.  The two of them sat and turned toward the woman and said, “Tell me about what you think might have happened to Brian, where he was found and by whom.”

Evelyn licked her lips and said, “Mr. Cooper, I know I don’t have any hard evidence to back up my theory, but I think that my Brian was scared to death; literally.”

“Really,” Nick said.  “That’s interesting and altogether possible as my father, Matt,” he gestured with his outstretched arm toward Matt’s grave, “And his father, Elliott learned first-hand on one of their cases.”

“One of their cases?” Evelyn said, somewhat confused by now.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Nick said producing one of his business cards and handing it to Evelyn.  “I guess I neglected to tell you that I’m a private investigator, as were my father and grandfather before him.  Anyway, as I was saying, Dad and Grandpa had been looking into a case of several victims who had literally been scared to death and the perpetrators might have gotten away with all those murders had Dad not looked into it a lot closer than the police had.”

Evelyn took Nick’s card and studied it, looking back at him when she finished.  “So, it is possible,” she said.  “But how could I ever prove it and help catch whoever was responsible?”

Nick laid one hand over Evelyn’s and said, “I suppose I could look into this for you, if you’d like.”

Evelyn caught Nick’s gaze and forced a smile.  “Could you?  I mean, do you think it would change anything?”

“Stranger things than that have happened in all my years as a P.I.,” Nick said.  “These days I run the business with my son, John and he’s about as sharp as they come.  I’m sure that between the two of us we could get to the bottom of this for you.”

Evelyn looked again at Nick’s card and the smile fell off her face.  “But I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to afford your fees, whatever they are.”

Nick could really relate to this woman’s plight, since he’d lost most of his own family to tragedy.  He patted her hand again and said, “Evelyn, I’d take on your case for free; it wouldn’t cost you a dime.  And you’d be welcomed to help me and John out on it, if you like.  I’m sure you’d have a lot of answers to the questions we’d be sure to ask.  What do you say; want to give it a try?”

Evelyn’s other hand clamped down on Nick’s hand, creating a hand sandwich and she smiled for the first time since she’d lost her husband.  “All right,” she said.  “When do we start?”

Nick gestured toward the card in Evelyn’s hand and said, “How about if you come to my office tomorrow morning?  You can meet my son and we can all get started on solving your case.”

The two parted company at the cemetery.  Nick drove back home and got settled in on his sofa with his father’s scrapbook.  Matt had kept a scrapbook of some of his more colorful cases over the years, including the case he and Elliott had taken concerning those victims that had been scared to death.  Nick made notes as he flipped through the pages, making sure to remember to ask Evelyn about Brian and what he might have been afraid of.

Nick slept soundly that night, looking forward to seeing Evelyn again in the morning.  He wondered if she might be a kindred spirit to him since they had both lost their spouses and both seemed to be wandering through this world aimlessly.  He wouldn’t let himself think that far into the future.  For now, all he should be concerning himself with is the case involving Evelyn’s late husband.  Nick nodded off, sniffing his hand where Evelyn had touched him and it made him smile.

John was already seated at his desk the following morning when Nick came in, looking a bit surprised.  Nick looked at his watch and then over at John.  “What are you doing here so early?”

“Just trying to get a jump on the day, Dad,” John explained.  “I have a feeling that today’s going to be different; I don’t know why, I just do.  What about you?  What brings you in this early?”

Nick pulled John’s client’s chair away from the desk and sat across from his son.  “I went to visit my parents yesterday at the cemetery.  It was just supposed to be a relaxing, enjoyable visit and a little alone time.”

“But…”

“But I met a woman at the next grave over who was visiting her late husband’s grave.  We got to talking, the way people in these situations do, and long story short, she’s coming here this morning to explain what she wants us to do for her regarding her husband’s untimely death.”  Nick explained about Evelyn’s theory about her husband actually having been scared to death.

John frowned and scratched the back of his neck.  “Now why does that scenario sound familiar?”

“Because my dad and grandfather worked on a similar case way back when,” Nick explained.  You remember; I pointed that one out to you in grandpa’s scrapbook a while back and you thought it was fascinating; remember?”

John snapped his fingers and pointed at Nick.  “Of course; I remember now.  To me that was one of the most interesting cases I’d ever heard about.  And it was pretty clever, too and they might have gotten away with it if they had paid just a little more attention to the small details.”

Before Nick could respond, he heard the knock on his office door and stood.  The door opened and Evelyn Wilson stepped in.  She smiled when she saw Nick and then turned her attentions to the other man.  “Evelyn, this is my son, John.  John, I’d like you to meet Evelyn Wilson.”

The two shook hands before Nick inviter the woman to have a seat on his leather sofa beneath the south window.  “Would you like anything to drink?” Nick asked.  When Evelyn waved him off, Nick said, “Well, then suppose we get right down to business then.”  He reached over to his desk and pulled his yellow legal pad toward himself and then withdrew his pen from his shirt pocket, clicked it open with a flourish and said, “So, Evelyn, won’t you tell us more about Brian?  The more we know about him, the easier it could be for us to get to the bottom of your suspicions.”

“All right,” Evelyn agreed.  “What kinds of things do you need to know about Brian?”

“Well, first and foremost, for someone to be literally scared to death, they’d almost have to have some sort of phobia or irrational fear,” Nick explained.  “Do you know what Brian feared most?”  Evelyn paused and Nick saw something in her eyes that gave her away.  “What is it, Evelyn?  You know you can tell us anything.  It can’t hurt Brian anymore and it can only help us get to the bottom of this.”

“Okay,” Evelyn said, “But you have to promise not to laugh or think any less of Brian once I tell you.”

Nick held up one palm toward Evelyn.  “We promise.”

Evelyn looked back and forth and then leaned in closer toward Nick and said in a low tone, “Brian was deathly afraid of clowns.”

Nick and John exchanged a quick, knowing glance but held their comments.

“I know,” Evelyn continued.  “Most people think it’s stupid or made up for attention.  Well, I can assure you that Brian’s fear of clowns was real, Mr. Cooper.”

John got on his cell phone and punched in ‘fear of clowns’ and got an immediate response.  He spoke up now and said, “I believe they have a name for such a phobia.  It’s called coulrophobia and it says here that there are fewer than eight percent of the people are affected by it.  If that’s so, that means that there would still be something like twenty-four million people in this country alone that are afflicted.”

“Thank you, John,” Nick said and gestured for him to put his phone away.  He turned to Evelyn and said, “See, your Brian wasn’t alone with his fears.  It’s just too bad that he couldn’t have been able to manage those fears before this happened.”

“He was getting help, Mr. Cooper,” Evelyn went on.  “He’d come home from his sessions with less anxiety and he’d seem much calmer for a while until something else triggered another event.”

“Like what?” Nick asked.

Evelyn wrung her hands in her lap, licked her lips some more and finally said, “The employees in his office arranged a birthday party for the little boy of one of the office girls.  They arranged to have little Billy brought to the office at the end of the day.  The surprise was going to be for both Billy and his mother, Sandy.  Before everyone was supposed to go home for the night, they brought Billy in and took him to his mother’s desk.  Then someone wheeled in a birthday cake with five candles on it.  As Sandy was cutting the cake, the elevator doors opened and some guy dressed like a clown stepped out and over to where Billy was eating his cake.  The kid got a big kick out of it, but Brian said that he suddenly felt terrorized.  His hands got sweaty, his mouth dried up, he got shaky, his heart rate shot through the roof and he fainted dead away right there on the office floor.  One of his co-workers called me to come and get him.  Brian was better by the time I got him home, but after that he found it hard to even look me in the eye.  He was embarrassed, Mr. Cooper, because I had never known about his phobia until that very day.”

“What did Brian have to say about it later at home?” John asked.

“We sat down and had a long talk about it,” Evelyn said.  “I signed him up for therapy the very next day and it seemed to help for a while.  Poor Brian; he never went back to that job.  He called the very next day and told them that he was taking another job.  I guess he just couldn’t face his fellow co-workers after that incident.”

“I think we’re making real progress here, Evelyn,” Nick said.  “And the suspect pool just got a little smaller as well.  I mean, unless a person knew about Brian’s phobia, they couldn’t very well use it against him.  Can you think of any of his co-workers who might have had a reason to want Brian dead?”

Evelyn looked confused now and shook her head.  “Brian got along with everyone there at work.  As far as I knew everyone liked him.”

“Let me go back a little way,” Nick said.  “You said that Brian quit that office job the very next day.  How long did it take him to find another job and what did he end up doing?”

“That was a difficult period for him,” Evelyn replied.  “It took him nearly three weeks of steady searching until he found another job in his field, but he managed to land another office job like the one he had left.”

Nick scribbled more notes onto his yellow legal pad and then turned back to Evelyn.  “Could you give me the name of that place where Brian found the new job?”

“Why?”

“Think about it,” Nick said.  “If you’re sure that all the people at his former job liked him, maybe there was someone at the new job that didn’t, and that would be a place for us to start looking for suspects.”

“He had just started at Consolidated Insurance and was just beginning to feel at home when this happened,” Evelyn explained.  “But Brian never complained or told me that there was anyone in the new office that he didn’t get along with.”

“Dad,” John interrupted.  “Can I say something?  How does this fit the scenario?  What if Brian came across something in the records that he wasn’t supposed to see.”

“Like what?” Nick said.

“Oh, I don’t know; maybe a sensitive record about some person, any person at all.  And then suppose that the person in that record found out that Brian had been asking about the people in that particular record.”  John shook his head.  “Never mind, it sounded dumb even as I was telling it.”

Nick waved him off.  “No, go on; I think you might be onto something here.  Talk it out some more.”

John took a deep breath, let it out and turned to Evelyn.  “Did Brian mention anything to you about having found anything unusual in the company records?”

Evelyn shook her head.  “Never; Brian never discussed anything work related with me, but you know, now that you mention it, there were nights when he’d come home obviously upset about something that had happened that day.  It must have eaten away at him, not being able to share whatever it was with me.”

“And now we may never know what it was that Brian stumbled upon, since the company is most certainly not going to let anyone outside of the company look at their files.”  John sat back in his chair and sighed.  Then an idea came to him and he turned to Nick.  “Dad, what if Abby was to apply for a job at Consolidated Insurance.  Then she could get a look at those files.”

Evelyn looked puzzled.  “Who is Abby?”

“She’s our secretary,” John explained, satisfied with himself for thinking of it.

Nick shook his head.  “No good; even if  she got the job and even if she found what Brian had found, she wouldn’t legally be able to share any of that with us or the authorities.  Keep thinking.”

John drew a blank.

Nick raised an index finger and said, “Suppose we tackle this problem from another angle.  How about if we check at some of the costume shops in town and see if anyone rented any clown outfits around the time of Brian’s death.  I know; it sounds like a long shot, but if we find such a person and can connect them with Consolidated Insurance, we may have something to go on.  What do you think, Evelyn?”

“Let’s do it,” She agreed.  “We’re certainly not getting here just talking about what we can’t do.”

John accessed his laptop and looked up costume shops in the area and wrote down the names and addresses of four such shops and then handed the list to Nick.  “If we split up and each take a shop we can cover more ground faster.”

Nick ripped a strip off the bottom of the list and handed it to John.  “Here; you cover this one.”  He ripped the next to last address off and handed it to Evelyn.  “You can try this place and I’ll try the first two on the list.  We can keep in touch by cell phone.”

The three of them left the office together but split up in the parking lot, each one driving off in a different direction.  John stopped at a costume shop just six blocks away on Sunset Boulevard.  It featured two giant display windows with fake police blue uniforms, nurse’s white uniforms, oversized animal costumes, including a horse that required two people to operate it.  There was a giant bunny suit, constructions worker getups and finally, several different clown costumes.

The overhead bell tinkled as John walked into the shop, looking for the manager or at least a clerk.  This appeared to be a one-man shop and within ten or twelve seconds, a man emerged from behind a curtain that apparently separated the main store area from the stock room in the back.  “Good morning, sir,” the man said.  “How may I help you today?”

John produced his badge and I.D. card and said, “My associates and I are working on a case that involves someone who had been dressed as a clown.”  He pulled out his notepad for effect, looked at the date of Brian Wilson’s death and said, “Can you tell me if you sold or rented any clown costumes between the first and second weeks of September?”

“I’m not sure,” the man said.  “Give me a minute and I’ll check my records.”  He stepped behind the counter, pulled out a ledger book and flipped pages back to the time period John had asked about.  He looked up from the book and said, “It doesn’t look like it, sir.  The last rental or sale of any clown-related paraphernalia goes back more than two months and then not again until just yesterday.  Does that help you?”

John closed his notepad, thanked the man and added, “Not really, but thanks for your time anyway.”  He was back in his car in just a few minutes and called Nick’s cell with the results of his quest.  Nick told him that he was still on his way to the first address on his list but that John could now handle the second address.  He gave John the address of his first stop and told him he’d meet him there.

John pulled up behind Nick’s car and walked into the costume shop across the street.  He found Nick inside talking with a clerk, who himself was dressed like a clown.  John wasn’t exactly sure why, but he felt a little uneasy around the clown-attired clerk.  He could get a feeling for the way Brian Wilson must have felt but he was still in control of himself.  He stood silently, letting Nick finish his interview before he approached him.

Nick turned away from the clown clerk and walked John back outside.  “Not this place,” Nick said.  “No one’s rented or bought any clown costumes from this store for at least five weeks.”  He looked at the second address on his list and turned to John.  “Come on; we’ll go and check this one out together.  I wonder if Evelyn’s having any luck with the shop she’s checking out.”

“I’ll follow you in my car, Dad,” John said and gave Nick a few seconds to pull away from the curb before he followed.

Evelyn stopped in front of a costume shop on Melrose Avenue and stopped in front of the business to study the front display window before she went inside.  The window held the usual assortment of fantasy wear, face masks, costumes and other accessories to complete the ensemble.  This was a bigger store and had at least three employees that Evelyn could see.  There may have been more that were working in the back but three was all she saw from where she stood.

One of the clerks approached Evelyn with a genuine smile and asked if she needed any help.  Evelyn checked her notes on the death of Brian Wilson and asked if any clown costumes had been sold or rented just before then.

“Let me take a look at our records,” the clerk said and pulled out her Smartphone, swiping the screen several times before announcing, “Must be a good month for clown events; we’ve sold one and rented three.  Can I ask why you want to know?”

Evelyn didn’t want to give away her real reason for asking but instead said, “My car was hit in the parking lot downtown a couple of weeks ago and the car just drove away.  I couldn’t see the license plate number, but I’ll never forget that driver.  He or she was dressed up like a clown with full makeup and everything.  Could you tell me the names of those four people so I can at least eliminate them from my search?  Otherwise, the insurance company will just keep stalling with their payment.  It would save me a lot of grief.”

“Certainly,” the clerk said and stepped over to the counter where she hit a few buttons on her laptop computer and printed out the list of four customers, handing it to Evelyn.

“Thank you so much,” Evelyn said.  If one of them is the one who hit my car; that is the only name I’ll have to tell my insurance adjuster about.  The other three need never know that I was asking about them.”  And with that Evelyn left the shop and returned to her car.  She didn’t start the engine but instead punched in Nick’s cell phone number.”

“Cooper,” Nick said, out of habit.

“Mr. Cooper, it’s Evelyn; I think I may have some more leads to follow.  This place gave me a list of four people who bought or rented clown outfits recently.  How did your stops pan out?”

“They didn’t,” Nick replied.  “John’s shop had nothing to report for more than two months and mine had nothing for at least a month.  John and I went to the third place on the list and struck out there, too.  Where are you now?”

Evelyn read the address off the costume shop’s front door.  “Do you two want to meet me here?  We can split up this new list and keep trying.”

“Sit tight,” Nick said.  “We’ll be right there.”

John and Nick pulled up behind Evelyn’s car fifteen minutes later and found her standing outside, leaning on her car.  The three huddled alongside Evelyn’s car and looked over her list of clown costume customers.  Nick pointed out the last two names on the list and noted that they both rented a clown outfit on the same day.  “That’s a little curious,” he said.  “Let’s save those two for last; meanwhile how about if we all go to that first address together.  Come on; you two leave your cars right here; we can all go in my car.”

The first address belonged to a seventy-one year old man from Hollywood who had just rented that particular clown costume for his great-grandson’s birthday party.  They could tell after just a minute with the guy that he was not the one they needed to look into and moved on to the second name on the list.  The second name was that of a semi-professional clown who had actually purchased a new costume when the one he had literally wore out from all his personal appearances over a six year period.  They discounted him as a suspect as well and moved on to the two who had rented costumes on the same day.

Back in Nick’s car, he looked at John and asked him to search the web for both of the names.  He did an extensive search and noticed that both men were employed by the same company—Consolidated Insurance.  Nick and John exchanged a knowing glance and then looked at Abby.  “I think this is the connection,” Nick said.  “Sorry, Evelyn, but I’m going to have to insist that you let me and John take it from here.  It could get a little dangerous.”

Evelyn complained at first but soon realized that Nick was just looking out for her safety and conceded.   She slid out of the car and got back into her own, driving back home after promising John to meet him there when he and Nick had finished.

John continued his search of the two men and eventually ended up on the circuit court site.  Both men had run afoul of the law on several occasions, including intimidation, jury tampering and assault.  “This is where we split up,” Nick told his son.  “We can’t have one of them tipping off the other after we see him.  You take that first guy and I’ll go see the other one.  Let me know what you find out.”

Nick slid out of the car and returned to his own vehicle.  Both men drove off in search of the two wannabe clowns.  The man Nick was looking into was a guy named Rufus Thomas, 55, from Glendale.  His house was a non-descript single story ranch house with a postage stamp-size yard that looked to be in need of attention.  Nick slid out of his car, removed the .38 revolver from under his arm and tucked it in his waistband behind him before walking up to the man’s front stoop and ringing the doorbell.

The front door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman in a flowery dress.  “Yes?” she said to her visitor.

“Mrs. Thomas?” Nick asked in his professional voice.  She said that she was and Nick added, “Would Rufus be at home?”

The woman shook her head and replied, “Rufus is at work; is there something I can do for you?”

“My name is Nick Cooper and I work for the costume shop where Rufus rented a clown outfit.”

That brought a smile to the woman’s face.  “Oh my, that was a special day.  Our grandchildren got such a big kick out of seeing their grandpa dressed as a clown, even though they didn’t know it was him at the time, what with all the makeup and everything.  Why do you ask about it?”

Nick produced his notepad and flipped the pages over to a blank page and said, “We don’t show any record of the costume having been returned.  Do you still have it here?”

The woman waved Nick off.  “On no, Rufus returned it that very next day; I’m sure.”

“If you could just take a quick look so I can tell my employer that I at least asked,” Nick suggested.

The woman held up her index finger and said, “Wait right here; I’ll go take a look in the closet.”  She left Nick standing there and retreated to their bedroom.

Nick looked around the room, not exactly sure what he was looking for but didn’t get much of a chance when the woman returned a few minutes later, shaking her head.

“Nope, nothing in the closet, Mr. Cooper; like I told you, I’m sure Rufus returned that costume the next day.  You’ll just have to tell your boss to take a closer look at his inventory.  So, if there’s nothing else.”  She waited as Nick returned the notepad to his pocket and left the way he’d come.

John stepped up to the front door of the man he’d gone to see, a man named Paul Norton.  Norton turned out to be in his early fifties with an unassuming face and demeanor.

“What is it you want?” Norton told John upon seeing him on his porch.

Nick and John had agreed on what story they’d each tell their guy.  John told Norton almost the same thing Nick had told Rufus about the costume shot not getting back their clown outfit.

“That’s ridiculous,” Norton complained.  “I took that stuff back the next day.  In fact, another guy I work with took his back at the same time, so he can vouch for me.”

John pretended to note his on his notepad and then looked at the man again.  “Can you tell me why you rented that costume, Mr. Norton?  I know it’s not part of my inquiry, but a guy like me is just curious.”

“If you must know,” Norton said, “That other guy I was just telling you about and I dressed up like clowns for his grandson’s birthday party.”

“Very well,” John said and turned to leave when he thought of one more question.  “Was the party held at that other guy’s house or someplace else and do you remember the time that party was held?”

Anxious to get rid of this pest, Norton said, “We held it one of our company’s warehouses from noon to three, so if there’s nothing else.”  He held his front door open and waited as John left, thanking the man for his time.

John hurried back to his car and called Nick’s cell number.  “Dad, what did you find out?”  Nick told John of the grandson’s birthday party and John acknowledged the same from his guy.  “Dad, my guy said they held that party at one of their company’s warehouses from noon to three.  Chances are if this is the place we’re looking for, the scare job would have to have taken place later that same night.  You know that has to be our next stop.”

Nick checked his laptop for additional property owned by Consolidated Insurance and found just one warehouse that had been used for vehicles and larger insured items.  It sat on the far side of town and they made it there in half an hour, parking their car alongside the warehouse and getting out to look for a door or some windows.  The only door they found, besides the overhead garage door, was locked but there were windows on either side of it.

“Over here, Dad,” John said, gesturing toward one of the windows.  “This one’s not locked; give me a boost, would you?”

Nick interlocked his fingers as John stepped into the makeshift step and eased himself up to the window, pushing it open and easing inside.  He lowered himself to the floor and hurried over to the door, unlocking it to allow Nick access.  They both turned on their pen lights, split up and began looking around on the floor.  Closer to the back of the building, Nick spotted two snort lengths of rope tied to one of the beams and called John over for a closer look.

“What do you make of this?” Nick said, shining his light up onto the part of the rope that hung down.

John took a closer look and said, “I’d have to say that at some point, someone was tied to the beam with these lengths of rope, but for what purpose?”

“Think about it for a minute,” Nick said.  “Suppose you want to do someone in without leaving any marks on the body and also suppose that you found out that your mark was deathly afraid of something.”

“Clowns,” John offered.

“Right, clowns,” Nick agreed.  “How would you go about getting the job done?”

John thought for a moment and then said, “I’d probably get the mark in here somehow, maybe by knocking him out with chloroform, tie him up to that beam and then leave, waiting for him to come around again.  But I wouldn’t play my hand right away.  I’d let the mark stew here for a while, building up scary scenarios in his mind so that by the time those two yahoos did show up, they suddenly jump out at Wilson from the dark in their clown suits and just scare the shit out of him.”

“You think a regular clown outfit would do the job?” Nick asked.

John shook his head.  “No, I remember seeing some clown in some horror movie that had longs fangs and face makeup that made him look other worldly, kind of more like a demon than Bozo.”

Nick snapped his fingers and pointed at John.  “Exactly, and I think that’s what those two did to poor Mr. Wilson.”  Nick reached up and untied the remnants of rope from the beam and wrapped them in his handkerchief.  “I think the crime lab should be able to extract some of Wilson’s DNA from the part of the rope that was wrapped around his wrists.”  Before the two men could leave with their evidence, they heard a noise coming from the area by the door.  They ducked behind a dusty vehicle and listened.  There were two men coming toward them.

“I told you they’d be onto us,” one of the men said.  “Some private eye was snooping around my house earlier asking about my clown suit rental.”

“Mine, too,” the other one said.  “Let’s just get those rope pieces and get the hell out of here before anyone finds them.  We should never have tried this way to get even with Wilson.  I just knew something like this would happen.”

Nick and John stepped out from behind the parked car, their beams aimed at the two men.  Both of their handguns were also aimed in that direction.  “That’s close enough,” Nick said.  “You two step over here and put your hands on the roof of this car.”

The two men did as they were told while Nick kept them covered with his gun.  John pulled out his phone and dialed Lieutenant Steve Stone’s number.  He told him that he and his father were holding two suspects in the Consolidated Insurance warehouse and gave him the address.  He disconnected the call and turned to his father.  “Steve and his backup will be here in just a few minutes.”

One of the men looked up from where he was leaning and said, “What’s this all about anyway?  We haven’t done anything.”

“If I was a cop,” Nick said, “I’d advise you not to say anything until you spoke to your lawyer, but since I’m not; you go ahead and say anything you want.  Suppose you both start by telling me your names.”

“Paul Norton,” the first man said.  “And this is Rufus Thomas.  Now, suppose you tell us why you’re doing this to us.”

“I have to admit,” Nick said. “That was pretty clever the way you dispatched Brian Wilson, but you didn’t really think you’d get away with it, did you?  My father ran into this kind of crime once before so I kind of knew what to look for.  And as you probably know by now, it is possible to literally scare someone to death, so let’s not play dumb.”

Rufus and Paul were left speechless and just stared at each other.

“What I don’t understand,” Nick said, “Was the why?  What did Brian Wilson ever do to either of you to deserve this kind of terror?”

It was Paul Norton who started to speak first.  “Well, it was like this.”

Rufus Thomas elbowed his partner in the ribs.  “Shut up; he’s got nothing on us.  We can just keep our mouths shut, get a good lawyer and walk away from this.”

At that moment the small door next to the overhead door opened and lieutenant and three uniformed cops stepped in, calling out Nick’s name.

“Over here, Steve,” Nick called back.

John stepped away momentarily and found a light switch, illuminating the scene.  He and Nick switched off their flashlights and took a good look at their two prisoners before turning to Steve.  “Steve, meet Paul Norton and Rufus Thomas.  These are the two guys who scared Brian Wilson to death.”  Nick produced the two lengths of rope and handed them to Steve.  “These were tied to that beam.  I’ll give you the full story once you get these two back to the station.”

Steve turned to his men and said, “Take these two downtown; I’ll join you in a while.”

Two of the uniformed cops snapped the cuffs onto Paul Norton and Rufus Thomas and led them out to one of the black and white patrol cars sitting outside.  Steve looked at Nick and asked, “What made you think of looking here?”

Nick told him of his and John’s interviews at the houses of those two men.  He explained about how both men worked for Consolidated Insurance and how both men had rented clown outfits for a kid’s party.  “It just stood to reason that the kid’s party might have been an excuse to rent the clown outfits.  We looked up additional properties owned by Consolidated and found this warehouse.  It didn’t take much to piece the rest of this twisted story together from there.”

“I guess I owe Mrs. Wilson an apology for doubting her when she originally came to us for help,” Steve had to admit.  “Now maybe she’ll get the closure she was after and can finally move on with her life.  Thanks to both of you, now she can.”

Steve walked with the Coopers out of the warehouse and back to their car.  “I’ll need you both to stop down at the station so I can get your statements.  Tomorrow morning will be soon enough.  Those two guys aren’t going anywhere.”

Nick and John parted ways with the lieutenant and drove back to their office.  It was nearly closing time anyway so John told his father that he’d be driving home to talk to Abby.  Nick said he’d be staying at the office for a while longer before he locked up for the night and told John he’d see him and Abby the following morning.

The next morning, Nick and John drove to the Twelfth Precinct, gave their formal statements and returned to their car, where Abby was waiting in the back seat.  John turned around to face her and said, “How about if we all go get some breakfast before we get down to work again.”

And that’s just what they did.

That’s My Life

It was Friday night and private eye John Cooper and his live-in girlfriend, Abby Ross had just settled in for a night of television and popcorn, as had been their routine for several months now.  Abby brought the large plastic bowl of popcorn from the kitchen and then went back for a couple of cans of soda.  She made it with two minutes to spare and turned to John.  “Well, what’s on the docket for tonight; comedy, drama, musical or adventure?”

John picked up the television guide and paged through it to tonight’s bill of fare.  “Looks like it’s going to be a drama tonight.  From the description here, it sounds like it could be a good one.”

“Really,” Abby replied.  “What’s it called?”

“Says here it’s one called, That’s My Life,” John said and looked closer at the description.  “In a nutshell, it’s about some former cop turned private eye.  Should be good for a laugh or two once we see how many liberties they take with reality.”

“Shhh,” Abby said.  “It’s starting.”  She and John each grabbed a handful of popcorn and silently munched on the snack as the opening credits ran.

The screen opened with a man dropping his car off at the repair shop for some long overdue maintenance.  The mechanic made out the repair order and turned to the owner.  “I can have it ready for you in less than an hour, Mr. Hooper.  I can call you when it’s finished or you can just wait here for it.”

Hooper checked his watch and sighed.  “I might as well wait for it; by the time I take the bus back to my office and do a little work, it’ll be ready.  I guess I’ll just wait for it.”  Hooper took a seat in the customer lounge and picked up a magazine.  Forty-eight minutes later the mechanic handed Don Hooper his keys and a copy of the repair order and thanked him for his business.

“He he he,” John chuckled.  “The writers must have been following me around last year.  “I took my car in for service, too only my name’s not Don Hooper; it’s John Cooper.”  The smile fell off John’s face when he realized the similarities between this TV character and himself.

The TV character, Don Hooper got back into his car and drove west on the boulevard back toward his office.  When Hooper stopped for a red light, his passenger door opened and a man slid in next to him, pointed ahead through the windshield.  “Follow that car,” the man said, producing his badge.

John sat up straighter now and pointed at the screen.  “Hey, that same thing happened to me after I left that repair shop.  What the hell is going on here?”

Abby patted John’s shoulder.  “Relax; how many crime shows have you seen where the guy tells someone to ‘follow that car’?  It’s a common line and just about a cliché by now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” John said, calming down a bit.  Later on in the story, Don Hooper and his girlfriend attend a comedy show downtown that features a hypnotist.  Don volunteers to come up on stage and try to be hypnotized.  John hit the pause button on the remote, turned to Abby and said, “I suppose THAT is also just a coincidence.  You were there when that happened to me and I kept quacking at the sound of anyone uttering ‘duck’.

Abby frowned and replied, “I think you’re right.  One similarity could be a coincidence but two?  Hit the play button again and let’s see if there are any more snippets from your life that show up in this movie.”

John let the movie play again and the two of them watched as the plot unfolded.  Nothing else paralleled John’s personal life and he was beginning to think that he might have overreacted.  Then two minutes later Don Hooper appeared on the screen again.  This time Don’s father, Rick showed up and said he needed Don’s help with their next case.

“Rick?” John said.  “What are the odds they’d pick that name of all names?”

“Just keep watching,” Abby said and gestured at the TV screen.

“Keep an eye on the business while you’re mother and I are out on my latest case, would you?” Rick told his TV son.

“Sure Dad,” Don said.  “What are you and Mom up to?”

“The lieutenant said he could use a female operative and asked if Kelly was available,” Rick explained.

John paused the movie again and turned to Abby.  “That’s it; this is no longer a coincidence; Rick, Kelly and Don?  Come on; this is all intentional; has to be.  I’m not going to sit still for this.  I’m calling my lawyer in the morning.  Those bastards are gonna pay for invasion of privacy.”

“Well then,” Abby said, “Just take notes on whatever similarities you see so you’ll know what you’re talking about.  We might as well watch the rest of this to see what happens.”

John let the movie run again and sat poised with his pen and yellow legal pad.  Rick and Kelly appeared on the screen again, this time in pursuit of some as yet unseen bad guys.  They lost the car they’d been following, but soon that same car appeared behind Rick and Kelly and was gaining on them fast.  John held his breath, hoping that what he knew happened next in real life wouldn’t be played out on the screen.  The bad guys caught up with Rick and Kelly within a block or so.  Their rear window rolled down and an automatic rifle poked out spraying the back door of Rick’s sedan, going clean through the back door and into Kelly’s back, killing her instantly.

John stopped the movie again and his hands were shaking.  His breath was coming in erratic spurts now.  “Now are you convinced?”

Abby was visibly shaken as well and it showed.  Her eyes had welled up with tears and she laid her head on John’s shoulder.  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.  He wrote down these occurrences as well with a shaky hand.  He could see by the on screen counter that there was just twenty-two minutes left of this movie and he decided to see it through to the end.

Abby took notice of the next scene where Don Hooper and his girlfriend, Gabby Voss were attending Kelly Hooper’s funeral.  “Hey, that’s supposed to be me, isn’t it?  That’s my life up there on that screen.  I’m coming with you when you go to see your lawyer.  They can’t do this to me; to us.”

The last twenty minutes of the movie consisted of Don and Gabby taking a hot air balloon ride over the desert and landing in an abandoned ghost town.  John wrote this down on his pad and said, “Looks like they combined two of our incidents into one for the screen.  They took our balloon ride and combined with our visit to that ghost town.  I can’t wait to see how this ends.  By the time we’re done suing them, we’ll own that studio.

Several minutes later as the movie was winding down to the climactic conclusion, John’s eyes were glued to the screen as some bad dude got out of his car, put it in neutral and pushed it into the lake before walking away, laughing.  The screen changed to a shot of the inside of the car’s trunk, where Don Hooper lay on his back, kicking at the trunk lid.  It popped open and Don hurried out of the trunk just as the lake swallowed the car.

John wrote this last scene down on his legal pad and rewound the movie to the beginning so he could make a note of the producer, director, movie studio and other pertinent information before he turned the television off.  He turned to Abby and said, “How in the world could they have gotten all those facts on all of our cases?”

Abby pointed her index finger in John’s face.  “Unless…”

“Unless someone broke into our office and made copies of our files,” John surmised.  “But then again, some of those facts were not made known to the press.  They only exist in the police files and I’m pretty sure no one would be able to break into the police station and get at their files.”

“How about if we take what we know to Captain Murphy tomorrow before we go visit the attorney,” Abby suggested.  “A fresh pair of eyes on this couldn’t hurt.  Besides, he’d know better than we would what laws have been broken here.”

“Great,” John said.  Abby and John spent a restless night trying to fall asleep after having seen their lives played out on television.  They were both tired and dragged out the next morning but managed to get dressed and have their breakfast before leaving the house and driving directly to the Twelfth Precinct.  Captain Tim Murphy was in his office when the two arrived and he invited them in with a wide smile on his face.

“Well,” Murphy began, “I haven’t seen either of you two for a while.  Is there a special occasion for your visit?”

“To tell you the truth,” John said, “I wasn’t sure we’d even find you in this morning, Captain, it being Saturday and all.”

“My paperwork was piling up and I figured I could get caught up today without any other cops coming to me with their problems.”

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting your work?” Abby asked.

Captain Murphy shook his head and gave Abby a warm smile.  “Not at all; I could use a break right about now before I go cross-eyed over these reports.  Have a seat.”

Abby and John sat across from the captain’s desk, turned down his offer for something to drink and got right to the matter at hand, explaining what they’d seen on television the previous night.  “And it has to be more than just a series of coincidences,” John said.  “They had way too many details about us, our private lives and some of our cases.  And like I was telling Abby, some of the scenes on the screen included incidents that were only detailed in some of your records.  How do you suppose they got access to them?”

Murphy jotted some of what John had told him down on his own legal pad and then said, “What was the name of that movie you were talking about?”

John looked at his own notes and replied, “It was called That’s My Life and was distributed by Mammoth Studios.  Strangely enough they never listed any writing credits.  They gave the names of the director and producer so I guess we’d have to check with them to find out who wrote the screenplay and where they got their information.”

Murphy sat poised with his pen again and said, “I’ll see if I can pick up a copy at the video store and take a look at it.  Did they list the release date in the credits?”

“Let me have a look,” John said, referring back to his notes once again.  “Here we go, it was released late last year and from the production values or lack thereof, I’d have to guess that it went straight to video without any theater releases.  Tim, what can we do about this?  We’re not exactly what you’d call public figures or celebrities.  Our lives are not an open book up for grabs to anyone who wants to distribute it to the rest of the world.”

“I’m not really the right person to ask,” Murphy said.  “I’m just a cop; you probably want to go and talk to a lawyer and see what can be done.  But for now, between the two of you, maybe you could stop in at Mammoth Studios and talk to the producer and see where you stand with all of this.  If it gets to the point where you find out if any laws have been broken, you can always stop back and ask me to step in.”

“Thanks, Tim,” John said and stood.  “We’ll let you know how it turns out.”

Abby stood now also and shook Tim’s hand.  “Thank you, Captain; we’ll be in touch.  She and John left the office and returned to John’s car.  “Where are you going to start with this one?”

“How about if we drive over to Mammoth Studios and see if we can talk to that producer; what was his name?”  John turned to Abby, who was holding onto John’s notes.

Abby ran a finger down the pages and stopped on the producer’s name.  “Maurice Smith,” she said.  “It looks like the director’s name was Sean MacGregor.  Surely one of these two guys has to be there now.

“There’s just one way to find out,” John said and started his car.  It took him thirty-five minutes to drive to the front gate of Mammoth Studios.  He rolled his window down when he approached the guard on duty.  “I’d like to see Maurice Smith, please.”

“And your name, sir?” the guard asked.

“John Cooper and this is Abby Ross.”

The guard looked at the list on his clipboard and said, “I don’t show any Cooper or Ross on the list.  Do you have an appointment?”

John shook his head.  “No, but if you’ll just ring Maurice Smith’s office and tell them who we are, I’m sure he’ll see us.”

“Wait right here,” the guard said returning to the guard shack and picking up the phone.  He returned two minutes later, looked at John and said, “Well, I’ll be.  Mr. Smith said he’ll see you.  Go right in; his office is in the second building on the right; room 101.  Just tell his secretary that Mr. Smith is expecting you.”

“Thank you,” John said and drove into the gate and down the street to the second building.  He and Abby let themselves into room 101 and stepped up to the receptionist’s desk.  “Good morning,” John began.  “John Cooper and Abby Ross to see Mr. Smith.”

“Of course, Mr. Cooper,” the receptionist replied.  “He’s waiting for you; go right in.”

John and Abby let themselves into Maurice Smith’s office and immediately looked around, expecting to see all the typical trappings of a successful producer.  They were sadly disappointed to see that his office was not decorated at all.  It only had two movie posters attached to the walls; both of which he produced and both being budget films.  There were two chairs facing a larger desk with a man sitting behind it.  He looked up when his two guests entered.

“I take it you would be Mr. Cooper and your friend there would be Miss Ross,” Smith said.  “Please have a seat and let’s get down to business, shall we.  Just what is it I can do for you today?”

John gave the studio executive a sideways glance and wasn’t smiling when he said, “I think you know why we’re here or you wouldn’t have agreed to see us.  Just what do you think you’re doing by putting out that movie, That’s My Life; because, when you get right down to it, that’s MY life up there on the screen.  Who told you that you could use our likenesses and experiences for your movie?  I certainly didn’t and neither did Abby or my father.”

“Come now, Mr. Cooper,” Smith began.  “The exploits of Cooper Investigations are well known around this town.  Your names and pictures have appeared in the newspapers all over town; and let’s not forget all those TV commercial spots you bought.  You made your likenesses known to almost everyone in the Southern California area.  That being said, the Cooper family and the Cooper business is actually in the public domain and since they are, I and  any other studio in town would be free to fictionalize your exploits up there on the screen.”

Now John was scowling.  “And you used names so close to our own that anyone would be confused by the portrayal of your characters, thinking it was actually us.  Don Hooper; come on; you’re not fooling anyone with that one or Rick and Kelley Hooper.  That’s obviously my father and my late mother, Nick and Shelley Cooper.”

Abby chimed in now with, “And where do you get off calling the character you based on me Gabby Voss?  You made me look like some kind of stooge and I won’t stand for it.”

Smith sighed heavily now and said, “Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be anything either of you can do about it; public domain and all; so if you will excuse me, I have a heavy workload that requires my attention.  You can show yourselves out; good day.”

John and Abby exchanged a puzzled glance and slowly rose from their chairs.  They were left speechless and just walked out of Maurice Smith’s office.  Once they got back into John’s car, they turned and looked at each other, disappointment playing on both of their faces.  “How do you like that arrogant son-of-a-bitch talking to us like that?” Abby asked.

John’s ears were still hot and his temper was coming to a boil.  “Well, I’m not giving up so easily.  I still think we should find a lawyer and see if we have any recourse.”

“What about your father?” Abby said.  “He probably didn’t catch that movie on TV last night.  He should know what that studio did to his image, and your mother’s.”

“That’ll be our first stop this afternoon.  I have to call Dad and tell him about this.  Man, is he gonna be pissed.  Come on; Dad should be home by now.” 

Abby tapped John on the shoulder.  “How about if you stop at the video store first and pick up a copy of That’s My Life so your dad will have some point of reference.  It wouldn’t hurt us to see it again, either.  They we could all discuss our options.”

“Good idea,” John said made a quick stop at the video store.  From there John drove straight to Nick’s house and parked in the driveway.  He and Abby knocked on the kitchen door and were greeted by Nick, who was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt but otherwise looking bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“Well,” Nick said upon opening the door.  “What brings you two kids over here on this perfectly good morning?  Shouldn’t you both be out enjoying the day?”

John held up the video case and said, “Dad, we have a problem; we need to talk.”

Nick took the video from John’s hand, read the title and said, “That’s My Life; what about it?  I heard something about this video but never saw it.  From what I’ve read, it sounded like some low budget piece of crap.  Why should I care about it?”

“Dad,” John began, “I don’t ever insist that you do anything, but I have to this time.  I need to borrow you for eighty-seven minutes so we three can sit down and watch this—right now.”

Nick looked over at Abby, who was also nodding her head.  “You really need to watch it, Nick,” Abby said, with a look that told Nick he’d better comply with their request.

“Well all right then,” Nick said.  “Come on in and get comfortable.  Can I get you both something to drink?”

“A couple of Diet Pepsis will do nicely,” John said and retreated to the living room.

Nearly an hour and a half later, when the credits started rolling, Nick turned to his son and said, “They can’t do that with our personal lives, can they?”

“You should have seen John’s face last night when we watched it,” Abby said.  “And I wasn’t any too please myself; Gabby Voss, come on.”

“We wanted to run all this past you and get your take on it,” John said.  “Then we planned on finding a good lawyer and suing Mammoth Studios for invasion of privacy, but we’ve already been to see the producer and he nearly laughed in our faces.  He said we were public figures in the public domain and he could use whatever he wanted regarding our lives.  Do you think he’s right, Dad?”

Nick shrugged and spread his hands.  “Beats me; I’ve never come across anything like this before.  How about if we let it simmer until Monday morning and then do a little more brainstorming before we run to the lawyer.”

“All right, Dad,” John replied.  Nobody said another word about the problem hanging over their heads for the rest of that night.

Nick, John and Abby all arrived in the Cahuenga Building parking lot at the same time on Monday morning and rode the elevator to the third floor.  As soon as they exited the elevator, they could see down the length of the hallway to where their office door was located on the right.  There were four people standing outside the Cooper office, apparently waiting to get in.

Nick approached the office, his key in hand, ready to unlock to door.  The four people stood aside and let Nick get by them.  “Good morning,” Nick said to the four as he opened the door and switched on the light.  “Are you all waiting to see us?”

The first man stepped forward and explained, “I’m in need of a private eye and thought of you.”  The other three people said almost the same thing.  Nick took the first man and invited him to sit across from his desk to explain his need for a private eye.

John took the second person, a middle-aged woman, over to his desk and started in on the interview.  The last two people had come as a couple.  Abby invited them over to her desk to get the preliminary information from them, promising that one of the Coopers would take it from there once he finished interviewing the person he was presently talking to.

The potential client sitting across from Nick turned out to be a man named Ed Freelander and he was looking for someone to tail his business partner for whatever reason.   Nick wrote this information down and then looked the man in the eye.  “I’m just curious; of all the P.I. businesses in town, what made you come to Cooper Investigations?”

Freelander had to smile, remembering the movie he had watched on television over the weekend.  “I saw your company portrayed on a movie recently and thought of you when it came time to pick a private eye to handle my problem.  Oh sure, they disguised the name somewhat, calling it Hooper Investigations, but everyone knew who they were really talking about.  Hell, the P.I. in the movie was even called Rick Hooper and here you are, Nick Cooper.”  He hiked a thumb over his left shoulder and said, “And it’s a good bet that Don Hooper from that movie is actually your son, John.”

John had a similar conversation with the woman he was interviewing.  She also noted the similarities between the TV character and the man sitting across from her.  She turned and looked at the name plate on Abby’s desk and then turned back to John.  “And that has to be Gabby Voss.”

“Actually, it’s Abby Ross, but yeah, that’s who they were portraying,” John agreed.  “Now suppose you tell me about your problem.”  The woman went into great detail about the reasons she needed a P.I.  John assured her that he would be able to help her, got her signature on a contract and told her he’d be starting on her problem after four p.m. that day, when the woman’s husband got off of work and he could start his tail job.

Once the woman left the office, Abby brought the couple over to John’s desk and introduced them.  He did his second interview of the morning, telling the couple that he had another case to tend to that afternoon but that he could get to their problem as soon as he had finished with his first client.  They agreed, saying that there was no immediate hurry, signed a contract and left the office just as another man was walking in with his own reason to need a private investigator.

Nick finished with his client, getting a signature on another contract and telling the man he’d start on his problem within the hour.  After John had finished his third interview he sent the man on his way, apologizing for not being able to handle his problem as soon as the man needed him to.  That visitor left the office, giving all three people a chance to catch their breaths and relax for a moment.  Nick looked at John and said, “And you were worried about that studio compromising our personal lives.  I think that studio unwittingly gave us the kind of advertising we could never have bought on our own.  I say we just let the whole matter drop and be grateful that we now have more clients than we can handle.”

“I suppose you’re right, Dad, but what about Gabby here?”  He gestured toward Abby with a sly smile.

Abby punched John in the shoulder and had to smile herself.  She knew that this whole fiasco would result in her part-time job turning into a full-time position and that suited her just fine.

Nick folded his contract, slipped it into his jacket pocket and headed out on his first case.  As he was stepping into the elevator, two more people were just stepping out.  “Can you tell us where we can find the Cooper Investigations office?”  One of the men looked at Nick and said, “Did I say something funny?”

“Not at all,” Nick replied, pointing down the hall.  “It’ll be the last door on the right.”  He pressed the elevator button and rode it to the lobby.  The future of Cooper Investigations would be secured, thanks to some second-rate movie studio.