Head-scratcher

We dismissed notion of mobilizing a 20-ft. ladder deep into the forest. Instead, I skitter down the limestone face on my heels, landing on a bench-slope below. I startle two porcupines tussling in the leaves. The fighting is over a human skull.

The rest of the skeleton is easily found as described by the detective topside. It’s stuffed— headless—into a nearby crevice, visible as a rib cage protruding from blue jeans.

This is the unfortunate end of a love triangle. He was executed a year ago, and dumped off the ledge in the dead of night; after reconsideration, the killers returned in the morning to shove it into the crack for good measure. On the anniversary, a guilt-ridden co-conspirator had ratted. Yesterday, he led police to the scene. All were puzzled by the missing head.

But if you know porcupines chew bones for salt, that mystery is easily solved.