Casey and I were taking a break, leaning back in the plastic lawn chairs, catching up after work on a gorgeous spring afternoon, when this little bit of something fell on me. I looked up to see a squirrel hurrying away on the branches. Casey said, “Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you, this squirrel has been carrying around a big bone up in the trees for days, gnawing on it, and making these weird sounds. He dropped it over there. Go take a look.” I did, and there was a long thin bone scraped up with teeth marks.
A week later Casey was pruning some trees along the river. He noticed our neighbor James’ lawn was overgrown, and went to ask if he should mow it. Walking up to the door he saw the mailbox overflowing with letters, packages on the porch, and there was no answer at the door. If Casey had any sense of smell, he would have called the police right then, but he returned to his chores along the river bend. The suspicion that James was dead inside became overwhelming, and he called the police to do a well-fair check.