Today we had a mystery. “Carey, I have bad news,” said the exterminator. He is a wonderful man and an excellent exterminator, and I have been fascinated for some time by his vivid turn of phrase and ability to build suspense through foreshadowing and other devices. In fact, I sometimes think of making him the hero of a knock-off Murakami story. Or if not the hero, then someone the hero is really, really glad to see.

On this visit we had already discussed the bats that live in the tippy-top of our house, how the flies I was seeing in my office could be there because of something rotting in the walls, and how you would think mice would be outside during the summer but all he is seeing is mice in houses. These weren’t pieces of bad news, they were just regular news, if you’re our exterminator. The first time he had given me bad news I had had to go down to the basement and stand with my head bent (we have a very shallow cellar) next to a pile of rat droppings while he talked to me about the rats in my house.

He had my attention. But then it turned out that the bad news was that someone or something had stolen our outdoor rat bait station, which had been driven into the ground with a stake and further held there by heavy stones. He said raccoons could do this, which was something else I didn't want to hear about. He was doubtful, though. I said we had an opossum around us somewhere. He didn’t think an opossum was up to it. Which leaves us with humans. So I’m wondering, which one of you stole my rat bait station? I want it back.