Trunk Show

"There's a body in that trunk I just know it."

My mother's declaration upon my arrival for lunch was not altogether unusual, she has a history of making outlandish declarations. What was unusual, was the certainty behind her declaration, so certain in fact that I now find myself crouching against the back of the couch with her, face pressed to the glass when I'm not using the binoculars she passes over to me every now and again. The trunk in question belongs to an old rusted hoopty that in a former life was probably a gold cadillac- year uncertain. Mom says that it just appeared there overnight about a week ago. At first, she didn't think much of it but after a few days of it not moving she got curious. She says that people used to hang out on the corner near it but lately there haven't been too many people around it and if there are they move quickly past. She also says that sometimes she see cats and dogs sniffing around and the other day a dog howled while staring at the trunk.

I'm not typically given over to gross speculation but there is something about this beat up old monster that has me intrigued and I can't tear my eyes away from their search for any sign of something unusual and there are plenty of things that seem unusual now that my mom's words are bouncing around in my brain. For one, there does seem to be a strange amount of animal activity. It's two in the afternoon and the middle of August in the city. I can't think of anything- animal or human- that would sanely sit in the sun unless there was going to be a big payoff and there are least five dogs resting in various positions around or near the car, panting. The piece de resistance, however, is the giant raven sitting on the trunk that I first thought was a Buzzard until the sane part of my brain reminded the clearly hallucinating part that there isn't a Buzzard to be found anywhere in the city...short of the zoo.

My mother elbows me sharply in the ribs. "See! I told you! There is a BODY in that trunk!" In my mind, the way my mother says BODY is capped and bolded, perhaps even underlined. I nod at my mother's words, thoughts drifting towards a possible course of action when -quick as lightening- I am resolved to go out there and sniff around, literally and figuratively.

"Mom. I'm going out there."

"I'll go with you." My mom is standing by the door, eyes flashing before her words have even finished traveling through my consciousness. I wonder how many days she has been sitting waiting to find someone to trek down there with.

We creep down the stairwell, foregoing the elevator- elevators don't really paint the picture necessary for murder mysteries I tell myself. The stairwell echoes with the soft ringing of keds on metal. I go first. My mother is not frail, but the image of us tumbling down the steps has me placing myself as a buffer for her. The afternoon sunlight is brutal after being in the darkened building and I blink furiously as I push open the lobby doors. I feel my mother tread my heel as she presses close in anticipation. We both pause and stare at the car. The dogs have heard us and two have cocked their ears in our direction but nothing more- they remain vigilant to their watch. I wonder if my mom is taking the deep breaths that I am, searching for a hint of something foul in the air. The heat is already making my head pound and I'm starting to regret my decision when my mom moves to step around me. I want to throw my arm across her chest and keep her behind me but I'm stopped from following through by the sound of sirens approaching and the blast of air conditioning at my back from the opening lobby doors.

Mrs. Rhodenstein is standing in the entrance way, phone in hand. She begins to talk to my mom in hurried whispers as I watch a patrol car speed around the corner and screech to a stop, not anticipating the proximity of the hoopty to the corner. Despite his best intentions, the patrol man still manages to tap the rear bumper of the car with his cruiser sending startled dogs scattering and my eyebrows skyward as the trunk of the hoopty gently pops open and bounces- not quite open not quite closed. I'm holding my breath.

My mother steps closer to me and reaches for my hand while Mrs. Rhodenstein stands speechless- something that no doubt would have sent her husband in cardiac arrest from shock had he not already kicked the bucket five years ago already. The second patrolman climbs out of the government issued Taurus and nods in our general direction. I hope he's not going to ask us to go back inside because I have no intention of leaving now that we are this close. They are young, probably fresh out of the academy and sent on calls placed by too curious for their own good old ladies. Patrol man A- the one who was driving marches up to the car with authority and reaches out to lift the lid. It flies up with a bang startling all of us- including the cops. Including the raccoon.

My mother squeezes my hand tightly and Mrs. Rhodenstein screams while the cop jumps and the raccoon scrambles even further into the back of the trunk. I have never in my life seen a raccoon in the city and apparently the raccoon has never seen two cops and three nosy women. What if the dogs had still been around? I'm suddenly very disappointed that there wasn't a body in that trunk and as the three of us turn to go back into the air conditioned building leaving the cops to deal with the abandoned raccoon infested car, I listen to my mother and Mrs. Rhodenstein giggle like excited schoolgirls and I wonder why I was so set on seeing a body.