Sizzle

SIZZLE

           Heat sizzled from the old parking lot. Empty stores stretching on both sides had made the lot worthless. Grass and weeds grew unimpeded between the cracks and along the sides but it provided a short cut home for Sarah. The old air conditioner at the dry cleaners where Sarah worked rattled its way to death earlier in the day. The lunch-sized brown paper bag looked pretty substantial as Sarah approached it. It lay neatly on its side. It hadn’t been there that morning at 6:00 when Sarah headed for the bus stop. She looked around. Nobody. She poked the bag with the toe of her shoe and dollar bills slid from the top. No, not dollar bills. Hundred-dollar bills.  Sarah caught her breath and looked around again. Still nobody. Gingerly picking up the bag with two fingers, she peered inside. Six inches of hundred-dollar bills. She surveyed the area again. No cars parked on the street. No kids hanging out in the vacant lot across the street. She folded down the top and stuffed it into her shopping bag. The police could be called from home.

           By 9:00 that night no one had showed up to claim the bag. The call to the local police station had been done as soon as she’d let herself into the small efficiency - home for the last nine years. Sarah could walk down to the station and turn it in. At this time of night, she’d be taking her life in her own hands. What was the law about finding money? Could you just keep it? If you turned it in and no one claims it, do you get it back? And how do you know if someone claims it? You could be lied to and the police officers could divvy it up. Not that they didn’t deserve it. Sarah respected the tough job they had. 

Sarah’s neat little apartment was decorated with posters from great places. She was now in her South Sea Island year. Bora Bora, the Solomons, even Hawaii, although Sarah was sure she wouldn’t much care for the tourist agenda. Last year, Russian monuments, landscapes, and museums dominated the room. The year before, Italy. With each year’s theme, library books, pamphlets, and a small knickknack or two decorated the space.

Sarah really would like to know how much money was in there. She dumped the contents on the Murphy bed. $150,000!! Only then did she get scared. 

The sack, once again packed with the money, lay in the middle of the bed. If thugs did show up, she’d let them have it. Her life might not be much but was worth a great deal more than $150,000.

In the morning, a quick call to the dry cleaners freed her day. A visit to the station was the only right thing to do. Maybe the phone call had been chalked up to a crazy lady. 

Leaving the money in a drawer in the kitchen, Sarah walked across the parking lot again. No action, no one around. Nothing unusual in the two blocks to the station. She pushed open the door and found a laconic sergeant at the desk. After laughing with someone on the phone for several minutes, he growled at her, “What d’ya want, lady?”

“Uh, I was just wondering if anyone is going to follow up a report that I called in yesterday.”

“And what kind of report was that, lady?” He shuffled and stacked some papers.

“Uh, I found some money and was wondering if an officer would come and get it?”

“What’s your name, lady? What time did you call?”

“Uh, Sarah Morse and I called about 6:00 last evening.”

 “Yeah, right. Listen, lady, we don’t have time to follow up stuff like this. Go buy something nice.”

He pushed his chair back and left the room. Sarah stood in front of the desk, quite disgusted really. When he returns, should she tell him the amount? He, no doubt, thought it was a $20 bill. The right thing to do would be to tell him the amount. His telephone rang. He returned and snatched it up. After several minutes of another private conversation, he hung up the phone. “You still here, lady?”

“Sarah or Ms. Morse.”

“Git! We got no time for crazy ladies.”

The flight to Bora Bora took seventeen hours.