My across-the-street neighbor killed someone. This is my evidence.

She brought home a new trash can, a rake, and a shovel. One day, she left

the house with a small suitcase and came back with a huge crate. Normally,

she would open her drapes when she was home. Now, her drapes are closed all

day every day. On another day, I heard a noise like a power saw. So, I know

she cut him or her up and hid the body.

Now, I need to convince someone else. But, I need proof. I couldn't-or

wouldn't go into her house. Surely, there would be proof outside. I wait

until she leaves for work, get my cell phone, and set out to get my proof.

I nonchalantly walk across the street and wander toward the house. As I walk

around the garage, I pass the trash can and recycle bin. There is dirt

around the can. Ah-ha! I took a picture with my phone. That's one. Then, I

notice  drag marks from the bins to the backyard. I took a picture. That's

two. I follow the drag marks all the way across the yard. Ah-ha! The marks lead to the new trash bin I had seen her bring home. The rake and shovel are nearby leaning on the house. Excitement and anxiety are rising. My heart is pounding. Wow! _Moment of truth_. I walk over. Do I really want to lift the lid?  I take a deep breath, stretch out my hand, and tilt my head to take a peek. I carefully continue to open the lid until I see-weeds. I whip my head around to look at the rest of the yard and see a newly planted garden complete with a wooden border, and beside it a crate with other garden tools in it. I feel like an idiot. _This never happened._