"Somebody finally got him, huh?"
Jack Callahan challenged, "What do you mean by that?"
"Where you been the past twenty or twenty-five years, Jack? Smoky's been askin' for it at least that long."
Callahan's voice was hard as ice and as brittle. "You didn't answer my question."
"So I didn't, but I will. I know nothin' 'bout who might've shot Smoky, but I can think of lots of reasons why."
"Is this yours?"
Callahan's hand dipped into his pocket and came up bearing Al's distinctive tobacco pouch. Ted gasped. His father was unmoved.
"Yep. But I haven't seen it for two weeks or more."
"That's true!" Ted asserted. "He hasn't had it for at least that long!"
Al said quietly, "Stay out of this, boy."