by Al Rennie
When Eddie Ralston had been led away to catch his ride for his appearance in the Federal Courthouse some blocks away, Cooper turned to me. “You must have been quite a cop when you were a kid in Toronto,” he said and nodded towards a chair. “Sit down for a second?”
I thought he was going to have a shot at me for not following his “marching orders”, but I sat down in the small room again. I could care less. I had learned what I needed to know whether Cooper or Kemp knew the significance of the information or not. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, you have good instincts,” Cooper said with a faint smile. He surprised me. I didn’t know whether he was being facetious or sincere. The guy was a pretty good cop himself. “You knew just when to ally yourself with Eddie. He opened up more because of that. I thought that went pretty good for this early in the morning.”
“Well, since I seem to have made your day,” I said riding on the back of his good feelings, “what can you tell me about Mia’s stepbrother?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s a total waste of time and skin, what do you want to know?”
“Whatever you can tell me,” I replied. “I haven’t met the guy yet, but that’s top on my list of things to do.”
“He hangs out with that crew at Toby’s Gym. We’ve busted him a few times—mainly strong-arm and assault stuff in different bars—roid rage I guess. We don’t know where he gets his money. Probably from his old man cause he always seems to have lots. I can pull his sheet if you want. He’s only been put away—maybe twice for any real time. Most often any of the witnesses to his games develop amnesia between their early statements and the trial. It’s a fact of life—we can’t protect everyone. If I were you, I’d be looking to get a gun before I put him at the head of your list of things to do. The guy is dangerous and probably screwed in the head too. If you know what I mean?”
“Thanks, and I do know what you mean.” I said as Cooper stood up—our interview was over—like his boss, Chance Kemp, he had bigger fish to fry.
As Cooper started for the door, he turned look at me. He asked me, almost as if it was an afterthought, “Do you have a gun?”
It was the second time he’d asked me that question. The first time—I didn’t. Now, I did, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
Cooper was a pretty clever cop. It was an old good cop ploy—Lull ‘em into a sense of something like friendship and pop ‘em with the trick question. Mental note to me—be on the lookout around old Fred Cooper. Obviously, Cooper was guessing what Paula Langdon had given to me the day before.
“I’ve been thinking of trying to get one,” I replied getting as much innocence into my voice as I could.
“There’s a good gun shop out on Nineteen just south of Umberton. Langdon used to shoot there. If you want, I could give the manager a call and get you set up with some range time.”
“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks Coop.”
“No problem. Let’s check in with Chance before you hit the road.”
We did just that. We met Kemp in the large foyer of the police building. Cooper gave a quick rundown on everything Eddie Ralston had told us. I don’t think Kemp was all that impressed or interested. He told Coop that he was on his way to a department head’s meeting with the mayor but keep him in the loop. The crime statistics for the past quarter were going to the media later that day. The mayor didn’t like surprises.
A Change in Mia’s Condition