Would you like some Elk with that?

Oh Bill. He has this philosophy about telling tales.
If the person involved is dead now he will tell. If not, it remains a mystery.

Bill was around when the population of some of the little towns that now are cities or big suburbs of cities was under 300. Lots of land, few people.
Bill knew everyone. The Fire Chief, The Chief of Police, the Game Warden, the guy who sold liquor. Sometimes the same guy might have two titles. Back in those simpler times complicated things were made easier by such fortuitous circumstance.

It was tough times. Noone had any money, everyone had experienced a stinker year and to make things worse, the unthinkable happened.
The Liquor Store was robbed! The Police went out to investigate. The Insurance Inspector was summoned. It was a bad time to be losing money. But these were hearty folk unafraid of hard work or hard times. Every change of season they held a dance for everyone around. It was coming up the next week when Bill had a conversation with someone.

"How about the Dance on Friday Bill? Got anyone with a Still?"

"Nah struck out. Guess it will be another dry one."

"What about dinner? Anyone going to give over a pig or a cow"

"Nope. Noone can afford to."

"okay pass the word. Dance is on, dinner is provided, drinks on the house."

Suddenly his wife burst in with:

"BILL--- don't tell that story. Someone could get in trouble!"
Bill just shrugged with a snort.

"nah dont matter no more. He's dead."

"Who is dead?" I asked.
"The Police fellar, he was a Game Warden too. He helped the guy at the Liquor store load a truck up with booze. Then they went and shot an elk. It was a great dance."

I love Bill.
They just don't make 'em like that anymore.

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Thieves respect property; they merely wish the property to become their property that they may more perfectly respect it.
-- G. K. Chesterton (The Man Who Was Thursday, 1908)