It was the end of another boring day following a suspect for another boring client. My feet ached and my throat was dry and all I wanted was to sit quietly and wet my whistle. Mad Dog’s Bar was as good as any and I was in no mood to be particular. The bar was actually called something else; I don’t remember exactly what. It came to be known as Mad Dog’s because a friend of mine once remarked that the owner reminded him of a gangster from Chicago’s prohibition days, Mad Dog Coll. I pulled up to the curb at Western and Sunset and positioned my Olds between an older Ford and a broken down pickup truck.

It was one of those bars that made you feel like you needed a shower when you left it. It was long and narrow and poorly lit. The bar ran the entire length of the left side with booths occupying the right wall. In the far corner near the back sat one ragged pool table, its green felt looking more like the well-used welcome mat from a farmhouse. A single light bulb under a conical shade hung over the center of the table.

The Cooper Collection consists of a total of 131 stories (so far)