Don’t Open the Trunk
A corrupt cop makes a routine traffic stop
By Mongoose750
Cody Brown was a cop.
Cody Brown was also a jerk.
In fact, if one typed in the word “jerk” in Google, it would possibly show his picture, and you would probably get his life story, and how he obtained his jerk status on Wikipedia.
Cody served in the town of Bumfern, Minnesota. Those who left the town had a more derogatory name for it. (we’ll leave it to the imagination as to what it is). The small town was on the highway just twenty miles from the Canadian border. Despite the fact that there’s a couple of other offices, Cody considered himself “the law” in this town. He said that of himself often to outsiders he pulled over for speeding. He pulled people over for other things too.
Cody loved his job. One of his favorite sports was pulling attractive women over, and charging them with something, or just examining their car to look for drugs that never existed, or because there’s a manhunt for some imaginary criminal that might be hiding in the trunk. Whatever the case, the woman would find herself handcuffed, and a victim to Cody’s desires. After he finished, he let them go with a warning. On such a deserted stretch of highway, there’s no witnesses except he and the victim herself. He did two teen girls on their way to Canada on Spring Break once, but decided afterwards that would be too risky to do again, so he stuck to solitary victims.
Cody was a typical “good ole’ boy,” white, six feet tall with short dark brown hair. Other women (not his victims) have said with his looks, he could’ve been one of the “Duke Boys.” If they ever did film an episode of the Dukes of Hazard in Minnesota, he would consider trying out for a starring role. In the meantime, he’ll do his job, and enjoy the bounties that it gave.
On this day, Cody watched his stretch of road with high-powered binoculars. This was an important piece of equipment, for from a distance he could tell if the next car had a male or female driver, and if the female was really a “her.” He pulled over a drag queen once, and after just giving her/him a ticket, he bought the binoculars so he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Finally, he saw a car, one of those minivan/SUV hybrids, gleaming silver in the afternoon sun. The driver was an attractive Asian woman, at least that’s what her face indicated. Cody was excited. He’d done many types of women, he liked them all. Aside from his own ethnic group, he’d done a few blacks, a Thai, and even one of those Iranian women (it was a shame for them having to cover themselves up all the time in those robe-like thingies all the time). But he never had an Asian woman. Things were looking up.
He pulled out behind the vehicle, lights flashing. The vehicle pulled over to the side, like they were supposed to. Cody got out and swaggered to the car. The driver of the vehicle rolled down her window, and asked, “Is there a problem, officer?”
Cody’s heart leapt. The woman had an accent! From the view he had, she was also wearing a kimono. Japanese! He was going to have some sushi today!
“No ma’am, we’re doing a routine check of all vehicles that approach the Canadian border. This is so nothing illegal reaches the other side,” Cody said, sounding authoritative.
“But officer, don’t they do that at the border itself?” The woman asked.
“Are you trying to argue with me, ma’am?” Cody barked sternly.
“No officer.”
Cody walked around the woman’s vehicle. “Is this your vehicle, ma’am?”
“It’s a rental, officer. Feel free to check the interior.”
“I will, because I need you to step out of the car, ma’am.”
The door opened, and a large, but delicate looking bare foot touched the pavement, toenails painted red to match her kimono, which was red and blue with some silver. She stood about 5’9”, with her black hair in a bun.
I didn’t think they grew them that big over there, Cody thought, figuring he would see a more petite woman of five feet or so.
“Now I need you to place your hands on the vehicle so I can frisk you,” he continued, trying to keep his hands from trembling with excitement.
“Yes officer,” she said, and complied.
As Cody frisked her, he discovered her body was hard, not as soft as he thought. She wasn’t fat, but she didn’t miss a meal either. The lady worked out. He walked over to the driver’s side door, opened it, and retrieved her drivers license. Nene was the first name, followed by some last name he wasn’t going to try to pronounce. The interior was clean, but he knew that.
“So Nene, are you one of those geisha women?” Cody asked.
“Yes officer,” Nene replied.
“I bet you get all sorts of customers, don’t ya?”
“Yes officer,” Nene replied, unfazed by his remark that hinted geisha did something more besides entertain their clients.
Cody put the license back in the vehicle, and walked around to the back. He couldn’t wait any longer. Normally he would cuff her and take her to the back seat of the squad car, but the back of her vehicle had more than enough room to do his business. He opened the rear door, lifted it up . . .
And found a dead body inside.
The deceased man was a man, roughly the same size he was, with short blond hair. He wasn’t shot or stabbed, but it looked like he was beaten to death. He died with his eyes open, staring at him.
Cody had been a cop for many years, and had done his particular . . . “habit” for between a quarter or half that long. He’d seen a variety of things in trunks and the backs of SUV’s, like firearms, some questionably legal, nice clothes, electronic equipment, golf clubs, the works. He’d even seen marijuana plants and a sizable bag of cocaine once (the women offered him a nice share of it to get away free). But he never, never, seen a dead body in a car. At the local funeral home, and at a rare accident scene, but not in the back of a car. Not here in Bumfern, Minnesota. That’s for bad movies, TV, and places like Chicago or Washington DC. But not here.
His mind was racing with all sorts of things, until he remembered he was a cop, and the first thing he had to do was arrest the woman. Just as well; the corpse killed his libido (oh! Bad choice of words). In fact, he was feeling a little nauseous. If there was a bright side to this, maybe there’s a promotion or reward in this somehow with her capture.
He suddenly became aware of bare toes on the rim of his vision as he looked at the body.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Nene said.
Cody slowly looked up at Nene, who had quietly padded around, and had an apologetic look on her face, along with something else. Something that told him to draw his revolver.
Nene was faster though.
As fast as a snake, she seized the wrist of Cody’s gun hand (he was left-handed), while wrapping her right arm around his neck in a reverse headlock and choke. His back bent backwards, Cody was held off-balance as well as unable to draw his weapon. Then with a sudden jerk of her right arm, Cody’s struggles were over.
Nene had noticed no other car had passed by in the last five or so minutes, so she was reasonably safe. She loaded Cody’s body in the back of the vehicle with the first body. She was told she would encounter no other interference to her destination; now they would need to pay her a penalty. From her understanding, squad cars usually videotaped their encounters, and recorded them on laptop computers. She got in the squad car, and noticed that both were turned off. That was strange. She kept looking around, and found a journal. She leafed through it, and became appalled. Each page had the name of a different woman on it, and what he did to them. So that’s why I was pulled over, Nene thought, he would falsely accuse her, then rape her. At first, Nene was sorry she had to terminate the policeman, but now she felt she did the force and other women drivers a huge service. She undid the camera and computer, and left the journal open on the front seat.
After she placed the computer and camera on the passenger seat, she took her cellphone from the console, and dialed a number.
“Yes, it’s Nene. The sanction has been completed, and I have the body in the back right now. Yes, well I encountered a policeman not far from the border. It turned out he used his badge for more than making arrests. Yes, I have him in the back as well. Still, I would like my penalty pay. Do you still have your man at the border to let me through? Excellent, I should be there at the designated spot in about an hour. Goodbye.”
After she hung up, Nene remembered something. She rushed to the back and opened the door. Pulling a handkerchief from Cody’s back pocket, she wiped off any fingerprints she left on the squad car and journal. Nene trotted back to her vehicle, brushed the gravel off her soles, and got in. The road was still desolate when she drove off. The patrol car was left, still running, and lights flashing.
The money and bonus should do her well back home in Japan until her next assignment.
–-
If you enjoyed this story, perhaps you may want to read other stories from the Barefoot Heroines collection. There are a variety of tales to choose from. They can be found at http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/mongoose/index.htm.
For suggestions, comments, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.
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