We bought the inn after the family’s husband disappeared on the mountain. They never found him. The family was too distraught to stay. A windfall for the us, we got it lock, stock and barrel, fairly cheap. My husband does most of the running. I’m a writer, with a bad case of writer’s block then.
One morning in the yard, it’s always quiet mid-week, I was trying to come up with an idea. Sitting there, I began to see movement at the edge of the house. Wavy lines.
I walked over. It was ants. A line of ants climbing up the side of the inn, then a short distance away, another line coming down. Relieved it wasn’t my eyesight, I was intrigued with the ants. In the line coming down, each ant was carrying a small piece of something. I looked up and saw that the ants were climbing the wall like a ladder then disappearing through a small space next to an attic window.
I followed the returning line through the grass, they all disappeared under a rock pile. The other line came out of the rock pile heading back. They had actually made a trench with both lines, obviously, a well-used route to food. There must be a sneaky way to the kitchen from the attic! I decided I better go up and see what the story was. We hadn’t dealt with the attic yet beyond a quick peek.
I found the ants were actually feasting on something well-hidden at the edge of the attic, something, now still covered with dried, actually well beyond smelly, bits of flesh.
My book is doing really well! We still haven’t cleaned the attic. Once I see the ants stop entering, I’ll decide we need to clean it. Plausible deniability.