"What are you talkin' about, madman? There's no eighth Hardie boy. There's seven of us…

As you can see he doesn't speak a lot... and you almost missed him among the others.

That's enough to take another look at those tracks in the yard. See if they fit this band of miscreants.

"Yeah, what brings you around, copper?" the rat-faced sycophant repeats.

Ignore it.

Of course. When you get the time, you could take another look at those tracks in the yard. See if they fit this band of miscreants.

Too late -- you already got a pretty good picture of these guys. You can use this.

Got it.

"Fuckin' say something already!" The rat-faced man doesn't let you think.

What can I use it for?

You could take another look at the tracks in the yard, see if they fit with the characters here -- it could be incriminating.

Too late, you already scanned the room. You got a pretty good picture.

A picture of what?

Of the actors here. You could take another look at the tracks in the mud -- on the crime scene. Compare it to these guys.

"Fuckin' say something already!" The rat-faced man doesn't let you think.

Got it.

Good. You could take another look at the tracks in the yard -- on the crime scene. See if they fit this bunch.

"Fuckin' say something already!" The rat-faced man doesn't let you finish the thought.

"I found eight sets of footprints, but there's only seven of you... Where is the eighth Hardie boy?"