The Cooper Saga 07 (Stories 61-70) by Bill Bernico

Author:Bill Bernico [Bernico, Bill]
Format: epub
Publisher: Downwind Publications
Published: 2021-09-04T00:00:00+00:00

66 - Jack the Stripper

“A little to the left,” I said, squirming in my seat. “Now up a little, that’s it, now over to the right. Ooh, yeah, right there.” Gloria scraped her nails across my back as I leaned forward in my chair. I sighed heavily when she’d finished. “You’ve got a job for life,” I said.

“Even when Clay comes back?” Gloria said.

“Well,” I said. “Maybe not as a P.I., but you have a job for life as a back scratcher. Now that’s job security around here.”

She slapped my shoulder. “Does it come with medical, dental and a pension plan?”

Clay was my father and the second generation owner of Cooper Investigations. I was the third generation and it looked as if our private investigations business would end with me. Here I was, thirty-two years old and still single. There was no one for me to pass along the P.I. baton to when I retired. Maybe there was still time for that yet. My grandfather, Matt Cooper was nearly forty before his son, Clay was born. My own dad was just thirty when I was born, so I guess I wasn’t too far behind schedule. But before I could think about a son, I’d have to decide how I felt about marriage. It was one of the oldest traditions out there and as far as I knew, no one ever died from it, except maybe the odd wife who occasionally turned up missing or dead after her disgruntled husband had reached the end of his rope.

I smacked Gloria on her butt and she settled onto my lap, her arm around my neck. She promptly stood up and straightened herself out when we heard footsteps outside the inner office door. We pretended to be looking over a report when the knock came. I glanced up toward the door and said, “It’s open, come on in.”

A woman with short cropped red hair, who appeared to be in her late thirties opened the door and peeked her head inside. “Mr. Cooper?” she said, still not all the way into the room.

Gloria stepped aside and I rose from my chair and strode over to the door to greet the woman. “Hi, I’m Elliott Cooper,” I said, extending my hand. “And you are?”

The woman came in now and closed the door behind her. “My name is Margaret Holden,” she said. “Can we talk?”

“Certainly,” I said, handing her one of my business cards. “Won’t you have a seat?” I gestured toward my client’s chair.

Margaret Holden sat, stuffed my card into her purse and then looked toward Gloria, who was standing nearby with a report in her hand. Margaret looked back at me. “Could we talk in private, Mr. Cooper?” she said, nervously squirming in the chair.

“I’m sorry, Miss Holden,” I said. “Where are my manners? This is Gloria Campbell, an associate here at Cooper Investigations. We usually work together on our cases. Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of her.”

Gloria offered her hand to Margaret, who reluctantly took it and gave it a single pump.

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