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“I didn’t say you could take it with you.”
“So you want me to get the warrant? I can phone it in, and we can wait together for the team to arrive.”
“All right, all right,” he said. He handed her a sheepskin-lined leather pouch, and she zipped the gun inside it, putting the cartridges in a pocket inside. She wrote a receipt on the back of her card and handed it to him.
“When will you return it?” he asked.
“When I’ve finished processing it. If it turns out to have been used in a crime, you won’t get it back.”
Pedro nodded.
“You must have been aware that Carlos was into something he shouldn’t have been.”
Pedro shook his head.
“Come on, Pedro. If you want us to find out who killed your cousin, you’re going to have to help us. Now we know that Carlos suddenly came into money. Where was he getting it?”
Pedro shook his head again. “I don’t know. When I asked Carlos about it, he told me that it was none of my affair, that, in fact, it would help our business.”
“Help your business how?”
“He said he was developing new contacts for alarm-system installations.”
“Business or residential?”
“There were going to be a number of new houses, he said.”
“In what town?”
“I don’t know. Not in our immediate area, though; he was talking about opening another shop.”
“Where?”
“He said he couldn’t tell me yet.”
“Did he indicate to you that his new work might be dangerous?”
“Just the reverse; he said it was a piece of cake.”
“Did Carlos mention any names to you?”
“No.”
“A nickname, maybe?”
“No, nothing.”
“What else did he tell you, Pedro?”
“I swear, that’s all he told me.”
“Did you tell this to the FBI agents who came to see you?”
“No, I didn’t tell them anything.”
“Did Carlos own a rifle?”
“No, but . . .” Pedro was staring into the middle distance, as if he remembered something. “Once I saw a leather rifle case in the van he borrowed.”
