(An oldie, but a goodie.)
Old man Angelo, a retired shoemaker, lives alone in Brooklyn. His son Vincent had a little run in with the law last year and is now in prison. They correspond by mail on a regular basis.
I hope you're doing well in there and are keeping safe. I've been feeling pretty low lately. It looks like I won't be able to plant my vegetable garden this year. I'm getting too old and my arthritis is acting up. I know if you were here we could do it together just like in the old days - with you doing most of the work. Maybe I can get one of the neighborhood kids to do the digging for me. I sure miss you.
If you get one of the kids to dig a garden for you, don't let him dig anywhere in that ten-foot strip along the back fence. That's where those bodies are.
Take care of yourself pops. I'll be home next year.
I was awakened at 4 a.m. this morning by a group of FBI agents and local police with a search warrant. Boy were they rude! They dug up the entire back half of the yard then left without even apologizing for the mess they created. I even heard them using foul language when they got in their cars.
On the bright side, it looks like I'll be planting my garden after all.