memoir writers homework-on the way to the library

It was a fine day in early September and I awoke later than usual because it was the first day of vacation from work.I didn't have a lot planned for the day,or the week for that matter.So it was a perfect time for a visit to the library.I'm in the habit of going to the library more than once a week anyway because I'm always reading and I always have books that need to be returned.The library is located in a decrepit old building in downtown Calgary,a little more than a mile from where I lived.Part of the walk takes me through Lindsay Park,on the banks of the Elbow river.It's a very picturesque part of Calgary,and it was still summer and quite warm. Squirrels ran frantically about gathering nuts and magpies squabbled over every tiny bit of food they could find.Lindsay Park also has a sizeable population of homeless people living in the bushes,under picnic tables and in cardboard boxes and even tents.By the time I started on my way to the library,most of those people were up and about,wandering about in the park or just sitting in groups in the grass.They are usually somewhat rowdy,sometimes passing a bottle around.Today was different.Today they were not making a sound.I walked along the path from west to east,then turned north when I came to McLeod Trail and walked the remaining fifteen twelve or so blocks to the library.I returned a number of books,borrowed some others and used the computer to send my mother an email.When I was through,about noon,I started off for home again,wondering how to spend the rest of the day.I finally decided upon gathering up my guitar and mandolin and heading back to the park to spend the rest of the afternoon.Because there might not be so many nice days left to do that.Lindsay Park had barbecues too,so I thought I might stop on the way home and buy some steaks top bring along.But when I reached the path leading through the park again,it was blocked off by police with dogs,and there was even a helicopter hovering overhead.It turned out that someone was murdered in a tent just off of the path.On the way to the library,I must have walked within a few feet of the place where the body was hidden.I didn't see a thing.I only noticed a stillness among the people who always occupied the park.They knew something,if not everything,and they were saying nothing.Sometimes I wonder about that trip to the library.How close did I come to walking into something really bad?