Copp In Shock, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series) (7 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

YOU
need to
have a bit of feeling for the topography of this little mountain community. It is not a "one-horse town." In fact, Mammoth has at least five or six "horses" and its most prominent characteristic is a diverse spread with no apparent regard for municipal planning. There seems to be no center to the business area; it's just here, there, and everywhere, a crazy-quilt pattern almost in defiance of normal zoning practices. Don't plan on scouting around this area without some transportation.

My memory of the area was returning in scattered little bits and pieces,- The Chart House plopped in on me the moment we stepped inside. There is a chain of these restaurants sprinkled throughout California, each definitely upscale and popular, and each individually tailored to its own particular locale. I would suppose that there are no two exactly alike, but I knew instantly that I had been inside this one before, yes, and more than once. I did not recall the details but there was a strong
deja
-vu quality to the memory.

Chief Terry was a popular man in this town. We received instant attention and easy camaraderie from the staff. Obviously word of the crime wave had spread like

wildfire and we were besieged by expressions of shocked disbelief.

      
"I can't believe it!"

      
"Not in Mammoth!"

      
"I'm worried about my kids!"

      
"Who could have done something like this?"

      
The Chief coolly reassured one and all that the proper steps were being taken and tried to assuage their concerns.
 
What could the poor guy say, after all?

      
We took a booth in a secluded area at the rear, hoping to get a moment to ourselves. Still everyone, it seemed, continued to stop by and express regret, so it took a few minutes before things settled down.

      
We ordered dinner and I asked the waitress if she could send the hostess over to our table. As soon as the waitress departed, the Chief asked me, "What's that all about?"

      
I told him, "Trying to get a line on your man Douglas, to clarify that note from Cindy Morgan."

      
He said, "Gotcha. Not sure where you're headed with that, but it couldn't cost anything."

      
I replied, "I'm hoping for a sensing on the relationship between those two. Seems like Douglas has had a lot of involvements with the young women of this town. Hell, I don't know what I'm going for, John. I'm just flaying around, hoping to find a handle."

      
At this moment an attractive young woman walked up to our table and said, "You asked to see me, Chief Terry?"

      
The Chief said, "Yes, Rachel. This is Joe
Copp
, an investigator from Los Angeles. He's been working with me on this. He wants to talk to you."

      
Rachel forced a solemn little smile as she replied, "Sure, I remember Joe. I heard about the shooting at the hospital. That's terrible. Is it true that Cindy Morgan is dead?"

      
He replied, "I'm afraid so."

      
I told her, "We feel that there must be a connection between Cindy's death and the shooting of Officer Douglas. We're just trying to make some sense of all this." I gave her a reassuring smile, hoping to put her more at ease. "Were they in here today?"

      
She replied, "Not them, no. Cindy was in here alone around noon."

      
I asked, "Do you know if she made a phone call while she was here?"

      
She said, "I don't know about that, but she received a call."

      
"When was that?"

      
She replied, "Ah, I think... the call was from Harley Sanford... she seemed upset. Wait a minute... she did make a call right after that. Just after her conversation with Harley... ah, yeah, I remember seeing her placing a call at the pay phone outside the ladies' lounge."

      
"So that would have been about... ?"

      
"Let's see... I seated the Anderson party of six at exactly twelve forty-five ... I'm sure of that... yes!... she was at the pay phone outside the lounge when I seated the Anderson party. When I returned to my station, Cindy was sitting at the bar."

      
I asked, "Did you see Cindy leave?"

      
"No, I didn't. That was our rush hour and I was really swamped."

      
"The last time you saw her she was sitting at the bar?"

"Yes."

I angled a glance at the Chief and said, "Maybe we need to talk to that bartender."

She said, "I'll send him back if you'd like."

I thanked her and the Chief added, "Thanks, Rachel."

The girl seemed relieved that the cross-examination was over. She went on toward the bar and the Chief told me, "The bartender is a guy named Eddie. He's okay, local boy, keeps his nose clean."

I said, "Let's hope so." My mind was hung up on something else. "I noticed that Sanford's car had a telephone. It seems obvious, doesn't it, that Sanford called Cindy right after he left us at his house?"

"Yeah, I agree. And Cindy left that message for Douglas with the dispatcher only minutes after she took the call from Sanford."

"Right. And a few minutes later we have the Douglas shooting. Would it seem reasonable that a man has a standing date with his lover and along the way, only two blocks from here, lies in wait to shoot a police officer? Does that make sense? For damn sure this was not a random shooting. Whoever the shooter was, he knew that Douglas would be coming out of that parking lot at one o'clock."

Before the Chief could respond to this, the bartender came over. He was a nice-looking guy of about thirty- five, immaculate in his bar uniform and obviously very sharp. He came to us with a genial smile and focused on the Chief as he asked, "Did you want to see me, Chief?"

Terry replied soberly, "Meet Joe
Copp
. He's working with me on our problem. Joe wants a word with you, Eddie."

      
The bartender seemed a bit nervous, which was understandable under the circumstances. He showed us a tense smile as he replied, "Yes, I remember Mr.
Copp
. He's the Spanish wine expert—right?"

      
I told him, "I don't know about the expert part, but you do have a mean sherry here."

      
Eddie said, "Nobody else has ordered that lately. I still have a supply. Would you like me to bring you a bottle?"

      
I said, "Thanks, Eddie, not right now." Martha had been the one with the fondness for sherry. I never really liked it myself, but maybe I had acquired the taste during the time I had spent with her. It was strange the way isolated little memories would come flooding back on me and hurt like hell. I swallowed the pain and continued, "You heard about Cindy Morgan?"

      
He replied, "Yeah, that was terrible. I served her a drink just a few hours ago."

      
I asked him, "Was she in here alone?"

      
"Well, yeah—until Mr. Sanford dashed in and pulled her out of here."

      
"You mean he literally pulled her out?"

      
"Yes, almost literally. He wouldn't give her time to finish her drink."

      
"You would say that he was upset about something?"

      
"Oh yeah."

      
"Did he tell you what he was upset about?"

      
"Not to me, no, but he told Cindy that someone had nearly killed him."

      
"Did he explain that?"

      
"Not that I heard. There was some back-and-forth between them but I didn't hear it all. I figured he meant that someone had tried to cut him off the road or something."

      
"So then what happened?"

      
"Nothing happened. He tossed some money at me and they were gone before I could even make his change."

      
"But let's get this straight—Sanford claimed that somebody had tried to kill him?—is that the way he said it?"

      
"Yes, that's exactly what he said—'Someone nearly killed me.'"

      
I said, "And he didn't say that calmly."

      
"No sir, that's right. I told you he was in a sweat."

      
"You didn't tell me that, Eddie."

      
"Sorry. But that's exactly the way it sounded, he was in a sweat, and he couldn't get out of here fast enough."

      
I said, "Thanks, Eddie, that's helpful. What can you tell me about Cindy's frame of mind before Sanford arrived?"

      
"She seemed worried, maybe a bit agitated. Look, working in a bar you get a slice of everyone's life, the good and the bad. She had her problems like all of us have."

      
I said, "Do you know anything about the relationship between Cindy and Douglas?"

      
"They knew each other, but Cindy knew a lot of guys. Douglas comes in often after work. He knows a lot of girls."

      
"You can talk plainer than that. This is a murder investigation."

      
"There were no strings on Cindy. She came and went

as she pleased. I don't know what she saw in Harley Sanford. He sure as hell wasn't paying her bills. She was very independent. I know that she was very troubled today, the last time I saw her."

      
"You still haven't told me about Cindy and Douglas. She called him from here earlier today. What do you think that could have been about?"

      
"Hell, I don't know. She didn't talk to me about it."

      
"Were Cindy and Douglas sleeping together?"

      
The guy was trying to sound honest and dumb at the same time. "Oh, that's what you were getting at. I thought I gave you that. Sure, I guess they were sleeping together now and then."

      
I said, "Well, we finally got that in the open."

      
He said, "Look, guys, I wasn't trying to be evasive. I live in this town and I work with all these people. Most of them are friends of mine. I'm just not comfortable talking intimately about my customers. You can understand that."

      
"Sure, I can understand that," I replied.

      
Eddie asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

      
I said, "Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?"

      
He replied, "Not that I can think of. If something else should come to me, I'll let you know."

      
"Do that."