In small, woodsy Belmont, Calif., few miles south of San Francisco, two chatty housewives named Mrs. Mary Morrison and Mrs. Mary Lauersen marched one day last month to the chief of police with a horrid tale. While burning leaves in her front yard, Mrs. Morrison had seen a man with a paper bag dart from behind a barn across the street where racing greyhounds were kenneled, dodge around suspiciously, then toss the bag in some bushes. Soon as he was out of sight, Mrs. Morrison retrieved the bag, took it to Mrs. Lauersen's to...
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