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He’d not invited them to sit down, but Rachel did so anyway. She sat down on the edge of a large sofa that was cluttered with books and blankets as she answered his question. “Professor Kathy Upton over at the University of Washington.”
The response was immediate. The drunken cheer that had kept him somewhat civil slid right off Cooper’s face like water. “Oh? And what did she have to say about me?”
“Not much, honestly. We were just looking for a name.”
“A name for what?” Cooper had made his way to the kitchen counter, glaring at them from about twelve feet away as he leaned against it. Not only was the cheer gone, but so was the cloud of drunkenness. She could see in his eyes that he was clearly inebriated, but emotion had come to the surface and had, at least for the moment, sobered him up.
“Mr. Cooper,” Sullivan said, “do you know any of the following three women? Emma Willis, Jane Adler, or Molly Stevens?”
Cooper narrowed his eyes. As he absorbed the question, Rachel took a quick glance around the room. She paid the most attention to a stack of books sitting on a long table pressed against the living room wall. There were two large books with several bits of paper sticking out of each one, serving as makeshift bookmarks. A few scattered newspapers and what looked like pamphlets were scattered in a sloppy pile beside it.
“I knew Willis and Adler, yes,” he said. His voice had taken on a low, gravely sort of tone. “And I also know that they’ve been murdered recently. Is that why you’re here? Did you come to ask how I knew them?”
“Among other things,” Rachel said. “And you don’t know Molly Stevens?”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“She worked for VexoCorp. She was found strangled in her bedroom this morning.”
She noticed Cooper flinch at the news. With something of a sneer, he said, “Anti-aging?”
“Yes, she was involved in the field. Applied Medicines, to be more specific.”
“Well, I didn’t know her. And I hadn’t’ spoken with Willis or Adler since I was terminated form the university.”
“Professor Upton said you’d emailed her several times after you lost your position,” Sullivan said. “Did you also email Dr. Willis and Dr. Adler?”
Cooper thought about it for a moment and then looked longingly at the bottle of bourbon sitting on the other end of the bar. He walked over to it and poured a large helping into a tumbler beside the bottle. "I believe I may have emailed Willis once or twice. But that's been years ago."
Rachel got to her feet and made a point to move toward the books and the stack of papers she’d seen. She saw that one of the pamphlets was from a stem cell center out of Portland, Oregon. She saw that Cooper had placed a Post-It on the bottom, with a name and a phone number written on it.
“What are you doing with your time these days?” Rachel asked.
“Not much, honestly. I’ve worked as an administrator for a few online colleges, basic nursing and medical stuff.”
“And keeping tabs on the spread stem cell clinics and research?” Rachel asked, picking up the pamphlet out of Portland.
"And so what? No one else in this country is keeping those bastards in check." His tone took an aggressive turn, and as he practically growled the final few words, Sullivan stepped a bit closer to him.
“Mr. Cooper, can you please tell us where you’ve been these last few days? Particularly at night.”
The question baffled Cooper for a moment. He took a long sip from the tumbler of bourbon and set it down with a loud clink. “Why? So you can pin the deaths of those women on me?”
“I didn’t say that. We just need to confirm your whereabouts so we can—”
“How dare you?” Cooper roared.
Without any sort of warning at all, he lunged forward. He didn’t quite punch Sullivan, but delivered more of an open-handed strike to the detective’s shoulder. It honestly wasn’t that hard of a strike, but it did send Sullivan back just enough for the back of his knee to strike the edge of the cluttered coffee table. He tottered and started to fall backward.
Rachel didn’t see how his stumble ended, though. She was already halfway across the room, acting instinctively. Cooper was so focused on Sullivan (and it also didn’t help that he was drunk), so he didn’t even notice that Rachel was coming from him until it was too late. She grabbed his still-outstretched right arm and swiveled hard to the right, pulling the arm with her.
Cooper spun in a half-circle and went to the floor with an almost comical yelp that came squeaking out of his mouth. When he hit the floor and Rachel instinctively planted a knee into the small of his back, it occurred to her that she had no handcuffs. Somehow, in the thrill of it all, she’d forgotten that she’d come to Seattle without her sidearm, handcuffs, or any other work accessories.
But Sullivan was there only a moment later, expertly helping Rachel pull Cooper’s arms behind his back and cuffing him.
"That was foolish, Mr. Cooper," Sullivan said. "I'd like to think you wouldn't have made the mistake if you weren't drunk but…you just attacked a detective. So you're under arrest."
Sullivan shared a brief glance with Rachel and mouthed thank you. She saw embarrassment on his face but ignored it. She was already walking back to the two large books and the stack of papers. The books were recent college textbooks, both geared toward cutting edge medicines. She flipped to the first three bookmarks of paper and saw that each one was holding a place that discussed stem cells.
