the smuggler’s bible


The local police don’t know anything about anything. They haven’t even established a timeline beyond two bullet points: “death—Sunday 9:30PM” and “body found—Tuesday 6:00AM; jogger (???).”

Luitger had to fight to get the question marks included even though the “jogger” who gave a statement was wearing full rappelling harness and found the mayor stuffed into a crevice 200 feet up a sheer cliff wall.

“Don’t find it so fishy, myself,” the chief drawls across a desk the size of a tennis court. “Typical fed, too suspicious by half.”

“And your theory is—”

“Had to guess? Coyotes, I figger.”