I opened the trashcan because the contents were almost too heavy to empty into the dump trunk. Inside, a cadaver had been squished down to fit – knees pulled up to the chest, arms crossed, head pushed facedown. I got a good glimpse of lank brown hair and a bad whiff of death before I slammed the lid back on with a clang.
Cadaver. One of those fancy words Jerry liked. I took several deep breaths. “Hey, Jerry! We got another one!”
Jerry leaned out the window of the idling truck. “A cadaver? Again?”
We both groaned. Jerry dialed the police.
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For over 100 years, Texas High Plains Writers has been a part of great storytelling in Texas and beyond.
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