Ernie was in the attic again. He had
gone through it—as he had every square inch of every room in the house—several
times. Step by step, he worked his way slowly around stacks of cartons. And then he saw it. A loose panel of plywood
on the floor near the eaves. How could I have missed it? he thought, his
heart racing with excitement. I've looked here half a dozen times.
It may be nothing, he told himself. Or maybe … He grabbed a corner of the panel and
lifted it up. He was immediately assaulted by a putrid odor. "Geez, smells
like an outhouse," Ernie groaned aloud.
Setting the panel aside, Ernie
dropped to his haunches and stared at the illuminated space for several
seconds. The stains appeared fresh. Blood, maybe? Urine?
Ernie continued to study the scene
without knowing what he was looking for.
He did not know what it all meant, but it had to mean something. The
only way to find out what it meant was to
call in the pros.
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