Copp On Fire, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp, Private Eye Series) Read Online Free
Author: Don Pendleton
looking for.
United Talents under Wiseman had scored box- office smash after smash and was moving in on the network and pay-television markets.
Wiseman had just survived an inside power play to oust him as head of the studio. He'd been reconfirmed by his board of directors and given an even stronger hand in his stated determination to dominate the entertainment industry, and he'd been the talk of the town for weeks.
All that, of course, was strictly outside my league so I knew nothing but the name and the talk.
So how was I supposed to recognize the guy when he came calling in a rented limo and a false identity?
It would take a while to quiet my head and try to pull the pieces together.
As it turned out, I did not have that kind of time. I'd been written into a crazy Hollywood script as an entirely expendable character. I would have to awaken to that truth very soon ... or burn with it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Forta took me on over to the city of Los Angeles and introduced me to Abe Johnson, the guy in charge of the investigation for LAPD. Johnson gave me an enthusiastic handshake and acted like we were old friends too long parted. I couldn't remember him. He asked, "How does it feel to run naked through the wild and woolly jungle with no paydays and no benefit package?"
"Wild and woolly..." I said, trying to place the guy. I was with the city for a while, some years back, and I was sure I'd never worked with the guy; my memory is not that bad. Johnson is black and a native of Arkansas, big guy with an engaging smile and interested eyes. LAPD does not hire upper ranks from outside the department, they promote from within. I approve of that. You don't make lieutenant quickly at LAPD, so I knew that the guy had been around for a while. Maybe we'd met once at a departmental social, a picnic or ballgame. Whatever, I liked this cop right off.
He said, "Thanks for the tape, Joe. The lab boys have been scrutinizing it all day."
"Anything yet?"
"Some interesting murmurs now and then on the soundtrack."
"Well, you're ahead of me there. I didn't take time to screen the audio, just ran a quick scan and picked off the video subjects for my own file before surrendering the tape. What kind of murmurs?"
"Oh, very angry sounds—from the interior of the shop, we presume. What kind of mike were you using?"
"Directional barrels. So the audio pickup was directly off the shop windows."
"They'd rattle from either direction though, wouldn't they."
"Yeah, but differently. Your technicians will be able to tell the difference. It's subtle but—"
"Well, we thank you for the tape. It could mean a lot. We got another break, too, a lead on a young woman who apparently was involved."
I had a quick mental picture of long legs and impenetrable sunglasses. I pulled out a chair and sat down and told all to Abe Johnson.
He jotted notes as I talked, nodding his head in agreement with certain information that seemed to coincide with something else he already had, but no questions and no interruptions until I'd told what I had. Then he told me what he had. I was liking the guy more and more.
"That ties pretty well. Your blond is probably the same woman we're looking for. Her name is Melissa
Franklin. She's an actress and she's been seen a lot recently with Wiseman."
"How did you tie her in?"
"She was observed by one of our traffic units getting out of the limousine just moments before it exploded. She moved to another vehicle that was parked at the curb just behind the limousine. The kids on traffic detail would never miss one like this. Our boy watched her pull away and even noted the license plate on her car. He was half a block down the street and right behind her when the limousine blew. She kept right on going but he doubled back immediately to cover the trouble."
"But he had her tags."
"He had ' em —we love these personalized tags, you know. They stay in the
United Talents under Wiseman had scored box- office smash after smash and was moving in on the network and pay-television markets.
Wiseman had just survived an inside power play to oust him as head of the studio. He'd been reconfirmed by his board of directors and given an even stronger hand in his stated determination to dominate the entertainment industry, and he'd been the talk of the town for weeks.
All that, of course, was strictly outside my league so I knew nothing but the name and the talk.
So how was I supposed to recognize the guy when he came calling in a rented limo and a false identity?
It would take a while to quiet my head and try to pull the pieces together.
As it turned out, I did not have that kind of time. I'd been written into a crazy Hollywood script as an entirely expendable character. I would have to awaken to that truth very soon ... or burn with it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Forta took me on over to the city of Los Angeles and introduced me to Abe Johnson, the guy in charge of the investigation for LAPD. Johnson gave me an enthusiastic handshake and acted like we were old friends too long parted. I couldn't remember him. He asked, "How does it feel to run naked through the wild and woolly jungle with no paydays and no benefit package?"
"Wild and woolly..." I said, trying to place the guy. I was with the city for a while, some years back, and I was sure I'd never worked with the guy; my memory is not that bad. Johnson is black and a native of Arkansas, big guy with an engaging smile and interested eyes. LAPD does not hire upper ranks from outside the department, they promote from within. I approve of that. You don't make lieutenant quickly at LAPD, so I knew that the guy had been around for a while. Maybe we'd met once at a departmental social, a picnic or ballgame. Whatever, I liked this cop right off.
He said, "Thanks for the tape, Joe. The lab boys have been scrutinizing it all day."
"Anything yet?"
"Some interesting murmurs now and then on the soundtrack."
"Well, you're ahead of me there. I didn't take time to screen the audio, just ran a quick scan and picked off the video subjects for my own file before surrendering the tape. What kind of murmurs?"
"Oh, very angry sounds—from the interior of the shop, we presume. What kind of mike were you using?"
"Directional barrels. So the audio pickup was directly off the shop windows."
"They'd rattle from either direction though, wouldn't they."
"Yeah, but differently. Your technicians will be able to tell the difference. It's subtle but—"
"Well, we thank you for the tape. It could mean a lot. We got another break, too, a lead on a young woman who apparently was involved."
I had a quick mental picture of long legs and impenetrable sunglasses. I pulled out a chair and sat down and told all to Abe Johnson.
He jotted notes as I talked, nodding his head in agreement with certain information that seemed to coincide with something else he already had, but no questions and no interruptions until I'd told what I had. Then he told me what he had. I was liking the guy more and more.
"That ties pretty well. Your blond is probably the same woman we're looking for. Her name is Melissa
Franklin. She's an actress and she's been seen a lot recently with Wiseman."
"How did you tie her in?"
"She was observed by one of our traffic units getting out of the limousine just moments before it exploded. She moved to another vehicle that was parked at the curb just behind the limousine. The kids on traffic detail would never miss one like this. Our boy watched her pull away and even noted the license plate on her car. He was half a block down the street and right behind her when the limousine blew. She kept right on going but he doubled back immediately to cover the trouble."
"But he had her tags."
"He had ' em —we love these personalized tags, you know. They stay in the
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