RIP i lost my favourite pig

# A Noir Farewell to a Swine The case file landed on my desk on a Tuesday afternoon, the kind of day when the shadows grow long and the rain won't stop falling. They called it user error, which in this business is just another way of saying nobody wants to admit what really happened. But I've been in this game long enough to know that the truth sits somewhere between the lines, usually smelling like a pigsty and trouble in equal measure. Your pig—that fragrant, four-hoofed suspect—had finally checked out for good, and the city was left with one less source of olfactory mayhem.