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“Alex Sand... put me in prison.”
“I know. Now he’s been murdered along with my two young boys,” Cooper said. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I have an envelope full of cash that I may give to you, for five minutes’ conversation.”
The woman, who was standing behind Carter, out of sight, asked, “What does she want?”
“Dunno,” Carter said. He looked skeptically at Cooper, chewed his lower lip, then said, “All right. I’ll listen, anyway. Come in.”
—
Cooper followed himinto the apartment, which was furnished in bland big-box-store furniture, tchotchkes, family photos, and framed Springsteen and Fleetwood Mac posters. The place smelled faintly of cigar smoke. Carter pointed Cooper at a couch, and she sat. The woman, who was wearing a quilted bathrobe, had reddish-purple hair showing some gray at the roots.
Carter said, “So...”
Cooper looked at the woman and asked, “Are you Mrs. Carter?”
The woman nodded: “Yes. Catherine.”
Cooper settled in a bit, looked around the apartment, put her shoulder bag on the floor by her foot. The Carters were poor: the furnishings showed some effort, but no cash. Cooper rarely saw anything like it, except at the occasional grad-student party; and grad-student parties usually showed some creativity, which was absent here.
She turned back to the Carters. “Had you heard about my husband and sons?”
“Of course,” Carter said. “It was all over TV news.”
“Okay. Well, here’s the situation.” Cooper sat a moment, smoothing her slacks, then said, “When I learn who the killer is, I plan to murder him.”
The Carters looked at each other, and then Catherine said, “What?”
“I plan to shoot him. My husband found Henry’s case interesting,” Cooper said. She looked directly at Carter. “He told me that guns were apparently your major interest in life and when you were convicted of a felony... that was the end of the guns.”
Carter nodded and said, “I really call myself Jim, not Henry...I’m hoping to have my civil rights restored. I have a lawyer looking at what would have to happen, and he says it’s possible. I was never convicted of violence of any kind.”
“The lawyer’s looking at the possibilities if we send him a check,” Catherine Carter said. “Otherwise, we can go suck on it.”
Cooper nodded. “I’m aware that Henry... Jim... has paid his debt to society, and I approve, certainly. Anyway, Alex told me that you had a federal firearms license, and in addition to being a car salesman, you dealt high-quality guns, far and wide.”
“I did,” Carter said. “All legal. And careful. I’d never sell to anyone under twenty-five, or anyone I thought might have violent tendencies. Like you.”
“I hope you’ll make an exception in my case, and I’ll explain why, in a minute. Could you tell me, simply as a matter of information, if you needed to... access... a high-quality pistol equipped with a suppressor, how long would it take you to do that, and how much would it cost?”
Carter hesitated, then said, “If you’re wearing a wire, you have to tell me. This sounds like entrapment.”
“It’s not. I’m not wearing a wire. Alex Sand’s wife wouldn’t be attempting to entrap somebody, and if you don’t think I was really his wife, you could go online and look at pictures of me,” Cooper said. “There are a lot of them.”
Catherine Carter nodded: “I recognize you.”
Cooper: “So, how long, and how much? I would pay you for a name and address if you could send me to the right person.”
“That won’t work. Anyone selling a cold gun with a suppressor... they’d want to know the face,” Carter said. “Then, if you killed someone, they’d blackmail you.”
Cooper thought that over for a moment, then asked, “How long would it takeyouto get one? Just, for instance?”
“Just for instance...”
Catherine Carter said, “Jack.”
Carter repeated, “Jack. If he’s home, and he almost always is... it’d take me thirty minutes to get there, thirty minutes back, depending on traffic, and we’d talk for a while to make the deal. Maybe an hour and a half, total.”
“He wouldn’t have a problem with your felony?” Cooper asked.
