Officer Jenkins and I returned to the station following the second talk we had had with Joshua Marksman's son Brent. Things were rather quiet as we rode back. We managed to confirm that Dusty MacClure was the most likely suspect to focus on, though to a great extent, we probably didn't need to speak with Brent Marksman to do that. The visit with him was largely a formality to get the information that thanks to what I had overheard MacClure whisper, we already suspected.
"Maybe this will help Officer Howard get the warrant we need to actually do something in regards to MacClure," Officer Jenkins commented as we made our way into the station.
"Maybe," I shrugged, "it probably couldn't hurt... though I'd think some of this is simply bureaucracy type stuff. Things were very quiet when the Smiths pulled their little stunt, and Beauregard was potentially involved in something much bigger then small town crime..."
"I'd hardly call murder small town crime," Officer Jenkins quipped, "it's a big crime. BIG, violent, stuff you don't obviously associate with small towns."
"It happens everywhere," I commented, "not just in big cities. Big city crimes of murder probably get more attention because you have more people living together in the same area and the probabilities of there being more instances of someone being murdered increase... I mean... our present case was because our suspect, likely MacClure got into a heated argument with Joshua Marksman, blew his top and shot him dead. Getting mad is not something that solely happens in the big cities."
Officer Jenkins nodded, "I'd think the word to use though would be "mundane" in reference to the case. Murder isn't a small crime in any sense of the word. Our case is more mundane because it lacks the extraordinary facets that your earlier cases had."
I nodded and politely opened the door for her and we made our way inside. Inside the station, things were relatively quiet. Officer Barnes was busy filling out some paperwork and another patrol officer had come in from patrol for some coffee. We quietly made our way to Officer Howard's office to update him on what "progress" we'd made.
"Sir?" I spoke as I knocked on his door.
"Officer Wayne?... come in," came Officer Howard's voice from inside his office.
We both came in to make our report, and Officer Howard did see Officer Jenkins right away.
"Ah... you're together," he spoke, "I take it you've finished the formalities with Marksman's son?"
"Yes, sir," Officer Jenkins nodded, "we didn't get much out of it, but it would be formal confirmation that the circumstances that lead to the argument that lead to the shooting is plausible... if the boy is telling the truth. We were about to go check with some of the other ranchers to see if they can give us a character reference on MacClure."
"You can," Officer Howard nodded, "it'd probably help build a case against him I suppose... I meanwhile do have an update on the status of the warrant you'll need."
We both nodded in acknowledgment.
"The courts have agreed to issue it, but through some red tape that they've put up in front of THIS case, it won't be issued for a few days," Officer Howard said in a grumbling tone, "which could mean that MacClure has time to shoot all his ammunition into tree stumps before you can check it."
"I'm not sure if we could trace the bullets on him to the bullet we have from the murder scene or the body," I commented, "If it WAS an old Colt revolver, the period of manufacture may have predated the tracing systems we have today."
"If it's an OLD Colt revolver, it went out of production around 1944 or 45," Officer Howard answered, "some guys still own the weapons, but Colt no longer formally manufactures the ammunition. There are a few small ammunition companies that buy the licenses to manufacture old models of ammunition for specific weapons. And by various gun control laws, these new "replica bullets" have to have the tracing markings on them. If he doesn't shoot off all the ammunition, we can trace it."
"Then here's hoping," I replied.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
The next few days went rather quietly. With nothing that could really be done, yet, in regards to dealing with Joshua Marksman's murder, Officer Jenkins managed to do what we could. We did speak with many of the other ranchers about what they knew about Dusty MacClure. Most of them said much the same as what Brent Marksman had told us. Opinionated and aggressive, but lacking charisma. Few of the ranchers we talked with thought of MacClure as anything more then a common thug. And those that thought more of him, still didn't actually like him all that much. Once we had done that to get a clear reference on MacClure's character, we resumed normal patrols until we could get the warrant.
And, in the meantime, some events went on outside of my work with the police. As I returned to Bandhavgarh one evening, I found Molly waiting for me.
"Hi, George," she said in a friendly voice, "did you have a good day?"
"Fairly good, yes," I nodded, "we're still waiting for the warrant, but that will come in in a day or two."
"We've had a fairly interesting dinner invitation, if you'd care to get ready," Molly commented in a way that sounded like she was encouraging me to do something.
"Not that unknown man again," I grumbled, "I don't want to have to wrestle with how we're important to that guy's agenda... even if it doesn't seem as bad one could imagine."
"No, not him," Molly shook her head, "Veronica. SHE invited us over."
"At recess, no doubt," I gave a slight smirk.
"Just get ready," Molly ordered, "I did check it over with Tabby and Dave. It was their idea ultimately. Though I did promise them we wouldn't eat them out of house and home. After the visit... well... we have raw meat here."
"I guess I ought to get ready then," I shrugged and moved up stairs.
"Yes, and hurry," Molly answered, "they're waiting for us."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I hurried to change as quickly as I could and Molly and I then made our way to Dave's home. We found Tabby and Veronica Choir waiting for us at the door.
"Good evening, George," Tabby said with a slight smile, "and the same to you Molly. Thank you for coming."
"Hello, Tiger-Man, Tiger-Lady," Veronica spoke and came forward to hug Molly.
"George and Molly," I told her, "that sounds too much like we're superheroes."
"I bet you're strong like superheroes," Veronica replied with a smile.
"Of course we are," Molly shrugged and rubbed Veronica's head. She then looked up to Tabby, "thank you for inviting us."
"Oh, it's no problem," Tabby answered, "and besides, you two have been so busy we haven't had that much time to see what all is going on..."
"Veronica has likely told you all what has gone on with me," Molly said softly, "and she's been doing well in school."
"Cuz I want to be like you," Veronica spoke up.
No one really responded to that line.
"That is good to hear," Tabby replied, "Dave should have dinner ready. Why don't we all go in. You can tell us how things are going inside."
Molly and I nodded and followed her in, with Veronica actually leading Molly by the hand. Dave was actually setting the table when Tabby lead us to the dinning room.
"Ah, George and Molly!" Dave said with a smile, "so good to see you. Come in, come in."
We did so. Molly took a chair next to Veronica's while I inspected the one next to Molly's. Listing to Molly's chair just barely supporting her weight, I decided against risking it.
"You'll forgive me, Dave, but I think I'll have to crouch," I spoke slowly, "I don't think your chairs will support my weight."
"They support Molly," Dave pointed out.
"She a hundred sixty-five pounds lighter then I am," I told him.
"With a build like yours, though, I wouldn't complain," Dave chuckled, "all that muscle."
"I'm not," I replied, earning a friendly laugh.
"Well, I do not mind," Dave then spoke, "and dinner is ready. If you'll all take your seats, we can have a friendly get together."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dinner was a fairly quiet affair. Dave had broiled several chicken, though not really enough to truly satisfy Molly and I, but the point of the visit wasn't so much the meal. It was visiting with some of our few friends in Columbia Falls, and the evening was a good one. Dave told us about how his progress was going. He had some wine from last years grapes in the early stages of development, and was confident that they would turn out exceedingly well. He also updated us on what the prospects were for the coming year. Things seemed to be going good for the Choir family.
Veronica also took several opportunities to display private pieces of artwork of usually Molly playing with Veronica or looking after her. It renewed my private hopes for a family with Molly, which I new she shared, but we both new we had to wait now. Molly had past the period of time in which she was receptive and we would have to wait until she came into heat again... and that was counting if we hadn't agreed to try and settle down before we started a family. Molly and I both complemented Veronica on her artwork, which made her smile from ear to ear. Tabby ended up taking her to bed a short time after desert.
"I had heard you were investigating the present murder case," Dave commented.
"Yes," I nodded, "Yes I am. Officer Barnes' "sub" and I were the closest officers when the call came in."
"I just wanted to wish you all the best of luck with it," Dave commented, "and wonder what all is going on with it?"
"We have a prime suspect," I answered, "though we can not do much right now."
"Sounds tough," Dave commented.
"In a way it was," I sighed, "we had to question just about every R.A.M. member to find out who our suspects were."
"Will we ever be rid of them?" Tabby grumbled as she returned from putting Veronica to bed, "from what I've heard through the PTA, the School District Superintendent is the worst of the lot still out there..."
"Not the worst," I replied, "merely the most vocal."
"And a pain in our sides," Molly growled in dislike of the man.
"At least he's an elected official," Dave commented, "and I think his term is up this year. He'll have to run again, if someone half decent actually runs against him."
"One of you should do it," Tabby suggested, "you've done a lot... and you've certainly proved the R.A.M. followers wrong."
"The police work keeps me too busy," I spoke.
"And since I'm already employed by the school and affected directly by the Superintendent's decision to try and force me out," Molly added, a low growl tinging her voice, "I would be viewed as having a conflict of interest... that I'd be running to get the restrictions on me lifted."
"What a load..." Dave caught himself in time, not wanting to take the chance of his daughter hearing any swearing.
"It's true though," I sighed, "Molly and I had thought one of you should run. I mean, you have a daughter in the school system, and thus have a vested interest in its success..."
"And while you've been friends with us," Molly commented, sounding more hopeful, "he can't say that you're running to make yourselves better off."
"Us?" Dave and Tabby gasped.
"Why not?" I commented, "you're both smart. You have a good sense of humor, and you're both friendly. Perfect qualities in a public servant."
"I'm mostly focused on the vineyard and winery," Dave commented, "I'm not familiar on anything in the schools beyond what Veronica tells me."
"I am though," Tabby mused, "mostly through the PTA... but I do know the news."
"And you could be a great help to the district," Molly told her, "if only to put someone with a level head in charge."
Tabby glances to Dave for a moment and sighs, "I'll have to think on it, guys. It'd be an awfully big step."