“That’s right. If you’re a professional killer, you’re hardly going to put your phone number in an ad. If you kill somebody, you don’t want to leave a trail of phone calls, especially long distance. No, you get a post office box using a false name, or you can have the magazine give you a box number. Then they hold the mail and send it on to you. That’s what I had them do.”

“So we just have to write to these ads?”

“Yeah, just drop ‘em a line, tell ’em to call at a certain time.”

“I thought phone calls were out,” said Lucy.

“They’ll use a pay phone.”

“Oh.” Lucy rummaged in the Hoosier for paper and envelopes. “Somehow I thought this would be more exciting.”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t get too exciting. Lucy, you’d better have a good story ready when they call.”

“How’s this? I want somebody to kill my husband because he’s mean to me.”

“Mean to you?”

“Say he beats me. Brutally. I saw that on 60 Minutes. ”

“Okay. It’s a little lame, but hell, I guess it’s happened before. How much are you going to offer for doing the job?”

“Twenty-five thousand?”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you think they’ll go for it?”

“Well, if they do, we’ve got a possible suspect. But I don’t think most of these ads are genuine. Real hit men probably don’t advertise. Most of ’em are probably just guys looking for a little excitement like I was. Or selling sex like Courageous Captain there. But it’s worth trying, I guess. After all, somebody did call me.” He scratched his chin. “You never know, we might get lucky.”

“What do we do then?” Lucy asked.

“Then we take it one step at a time. We can try to set up a meeting. Very carefully. Don’t do anything without me.” Culpepper’s voice was earnest. “I want to keep an eye on things.”

“Okay,” Lucy agreed. “This guy looks serious. ”Man for Hire. Professional and efficient.’ Gives me the willies. What should I write?”

“How about, ‘If interested in twenty-five thousand dollars, call . . .’ and put down your phone number and the time you want him to call,” advised Barney.

Lucy thought for a minute. “I don’t want him to call when the kids are home, so it has to be during school hours.”

“Now you’re thinking like a pro,” Barney teased.

“Don’t laugh. My kids could scare off the meanest, toughest criminal. And I certainly don’t want hit men calling during Christmas when Bill’s folks are here. What would they think?”

Barney shook his head. “It’ll take a couple of weeks if the mail’s forwarded.”

Lucy checked her calendar. “How about nine-thirty A.M. on Wednesday, January fifth?”