The next morning began early, as they always did. I put on a clean uniform and prepared myself for work while Molly got started on work and getting ready for her own work with the school. As we sat down to breakfast, Molly got fairly curious about what I had on my plate.
"So what is your plan for today, George?" Molly wondered, "Do you have enough stuff to bring in your suspect?"
"We have nothing official," I answered her, "that's all I can really say about the guy we have as our prime suspect."
"I'm sure you'll get him though, George," Molly gave me some encouragement, "you've caught every bad guy you've faced so far."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Molly," I gave her a soft smile, "There is still a lot of hard work to be done."
"So what is next?" Molly asked, "are you waiting for a warrant or are you back to square one?"
"Officer Howard will be working on getting the warrant that we need to truly search for convincing evidence," I told her, guessing that some of this wouldn't be too much of a breach of protocol, and Molly wasn't going to blab it news reporters anyway. I trusted her to be quiet with that much, "For the most part Officer Jenkins and I will be talking with Marksman's sons to see if they know anything about our suspect."
Molly then sighed, "all of this because of RAM... all because some rancher got pissed that I wouldn't follow him like some uber-obediant dog... I'm not even a canine..."
"We're feline," I nodded, "but I think this is the end of R.A.M.'s life. Ebenezer Smith's arrest and trial exposed it as not so outstandingly "noble" institution. Beauregard's arrest and trial broke the organization by revealing how racist and criminal it was."
"So what is this?" Molly wondered, "guys fighting over the scraps?"
"Essentially," I nodded, "a lot of R.A.M. members have actually been more open in dealing with us. Willing to actually learn about us, rather then repeat Beauregard's lies. But not all of them have, like your principal and the school superintendent..."
"We ought to get someone good to run against him," Molly growled, "I do not want our cubs, when we have them, being supervised by that man."
"I'm too busy, and you'd have a conflict of interest," I told her. I then returned to the original topic, "but a lot of these guys that joined R.A.M. feel betrayed by what Beauregard did, regardless of whether or not they still agree on the ideology. And that I think is where we're at. Those feelings of betrayal have boiled over in this case. If we win it...I think it'll break R.A.M.'s ability to recover with the few members that agree with Beauregard's ideas and we'll be able to move forward."
"And start a family?" Molly asked, sounding hopeful.
"When you come into heat again this coming winter," I told her and leaned over to nuzzle Molly's muzzle with my own.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Officer Howard was still working on getting the search warrant for MacClure's property and possibly person when Officer Jenkins and I made our way into the station. He had, however, managed to get the address of the "foster" home that was looking after Marksman's two sons, and got an agreement from the person running it to allow us to speak with the two teens. The only thing that the foster home manager had as a condition was that we wait until eight AM to actually go there.
Officer Jenkins and I ran a basic morning patrol until it was time to go talk with the two teens again. Nothing was really going on at the time. This meant we didn't have some other report to make as we made our way up to a small home on the east side of town. As we arrived we were met by a middle aged woman, who seemed to be running the foster home.
"Thank you for accepting my terms," the woman spoke.
"It was no real problem," Officer Jenkins answered, "and I'm sure the boys will enjoy having a day off from school."
"Well... Brent has managed," the woman replied, "but I had Kyle taken out of school. He's completely out of it. Brent is likely the only one you'll get any real answers out of."
Brent must have been the teen we talked with at Marksman's home on the morning after the murder.
"We're mostly trying to get some character references on our chief suspect," I told her, "we may not actually need both of them... and if Kyle is still being affected by the murder, we don't want to put any extra strain on him."
"A wise course of action," the woman said in an approving tone, "certainly proves these R.A.M. people wrong in what they think... thought... about you."
"I'm sure," I shrugged.
She lead us in and took us to a small dinning room with both teens seated there. Kyle was slowly swaying back and forth, clutching at something that I couldn't fully make out. The angle at which he was holding it blocked my view of it. I assumed it was a photograph of Joshua Marksman. Brent was eying both of us with some degree of suspicion.
"So, you haven't found anything?" Brent asked as we came in.
Officer Jenkins sat down while I stood behind her.
"And you've come to blame us," Brent finished.
"Actually no, we actually think we have someone that might be the murderer of your father," Officer Jenkins spoke, "although we've been told your brother is still struggling with all that has happened."
"Kyle was always closest to our old man," Brent nodded, "so WHO do you think it was?"
"Would you mind if we let Kyle go?" I asked, "we don't want to put him under any more stress."
"I don't mind," Brent shrugged while the foster home manager came and helped Kyle stand up.
"Come along, dear," the woman said to him, "why don't we go out into the living room and watch a little television."
She lead him out. A few moments later, I heard the television come on with the lines from some cartoon on.
"So, who do you think it was?" Brent asked softly.
"We believe a R.A.M. member named Dusty MacClure was the murderer," Officer Jenkins answered, "but to confirm our suspicions, we need more information from you on your father's relationship with the man."
"The man is odd," Brent answered, "he's helped the old man out with dealing with prairie dogs and other ground tunneling animals that might trip up the cattle... but that's about it really."
"What do you know about him besides that?" I asked, "were you ever around when you knew he was there."
I left out my own suspicions. If MacClure knew their father, the two sons would have had to have known him on some level as well. In the initial questioning, the two had admitted to drinking to try and help themselves get to sleep. Something about that lead me to believe that they had been drinking before they went home, which was the real reason they couldn't recognize who their father was arguing with. But that was largely unimportant in the scheme of the investigation.
"He's very short tempered with very strong opinions," Brent answered, "much like Beauregard, but much less charismatic. But Kyle and I never associated much with him."
"I see," Officer Jenkins sighed, "did he and your father talk about R.A.M. business?"
"Maybe," Brent answered, "Kyle and I didn't hang around him all that much, but with his opinions, I have no doubt doubt that MacClure might have raised the subject from time to time."
"Which could confirm the possibility of the argument," I commented, "on the night of the murder, how long did the argument last after you and your brother got home?"
"At least an hour..." Brent said after a moment, "the shouting went on while Kyle and I went to bed, and it did keep us up for awhile. I have no idea how long it went after we finally fell asleep. That is the truth."
And that blew a hole in MacClure's claim that he left no later then half an hour after after Brent and Kyle returned home, if Brent was telling the truth. Given what I had overheard when we questioned MacClure, I was inclined to believe that he was telling the truth.
"Is that all that you have?" Brent then asked.
"Yes," Officer Jenkins nodded, "you've helped us understand your father's interactions with MacClure... and helped us look at some holes in his story."
Brent nodded.
"Although, you will keep this conversation quiet," I urged him, "if MacClure learns about this through some third party... he may go to war with the Police Department, or flee into the mountains."
"I got Kyle to look after," Brent answered, "I have no time for gossip."
"Thank you for your help," I said with a nod.