Sometimes life just throws you the zaniest curves, such as my Wednesday this week when I came home to a bag of unmarked cash in a duffel bag but soon realized there was a catch: whoever left me the money expected me to dispose of a dead body for them.
Now I don’t know who the dead person was and I certainly didn’t kill them, I told myself. What is the harm in getting rid of it? It isn’t doing anyone any harm. No one is going to miss one little (185 lb) dead body, I imagine.
Yet a little voice in the back of my mind was of the opposite opinion, that somehow I would be obstructing justice by disposing of the body — be accomplice to whoever had committed murder.
But we do not even know if the person was murdered, I protested. There is no blood, no signs of trauma at all. This person probably just died of a heart attack and their wife or something did not want to have to pay for a big stupid funeral. Simple!
You are being disingenuous, the little voice said, as I flipped through the stacks of 100 dollar bills. Someone is looking for this body or else they would not have asked you to make it disappear.
Or not. Or the opposite is true. And splash went the corpse, to sleep with the fishes.
But it is kind of surprising how fast you can burn through ten large.