Trailer Park Noir

see.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Muriel said. “A quiet park is a happy park.”

She walked him back to the front door, said goodbye, then stepped outside and watched him walk to his trailer from the porch, smoking her cigarette. She looked at his trailer a long time, and the back end of his SUV – a very expensive SUV, she knew, because it was a Porsche.

Muriel went back into the house and turned into the living room, went to Frank’s recliner. “Wake up, Frank.”

He did not move. He was snoring quietly. For a change. When he snored in bed he sounded like an ill zoo animal. He snored in his recliner and he sounded like a purring cat.

“Frank!” she shouted.

Frank jerked in his chair. “Huh?”

“Wake up.”

“Dammit,” he said as he shuffled around in the recliner. He reached down and clutched a wooden lever on the side of the chair, pulled it, and straightened it up into a sitting position. “What the hell’s a matter now?” he said. Frank Snodgrass had a long, hound dog face, bald on top with a U of greying brown hair from ear to ear. He slowly stood as he said, “What’s so damned important that I couldn’t sleep a little while longer, huh?”

“There’s something wrong about him,” Muriel said.

“Wrong about who?”

“That man who was just here.”

“Who the hell you talking about? I was asleep, ‘member?”

“The man who just – Steven Regent, who just moved into unit five.”

“What about him?” Frank shuffled out of the living room and into the kitchen.

Muriel followed him, talking the whole way.

“What’s he doin’ here, in this trailer park?”

“What kinda question is that?” Frank said. He went to the refrigerator and opened the door below the top freezer. He bent down and looked in at what was on the metal shelves.

“Well, think about it,” Muriel said. She went to the counter and snubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. “He’s got that beautiful trailer – that thing looks new, and it didn’t come cheap. And how about that Porsche SUV, huh? How much you think he paid for that? And he just now paid three months in rent. Three months.”

“So what?”

“Well, if he’s – what the hell are you looking for?”

“Nothin’.” He stood and closed the refrigerator door. He did that all the time, and it drove Muriel crazy.

“The so-what is that he’s here in this dump,” Muriel said.

“Maybe he just likes trailer park living, ever thought a that?”

“Then why this trailer park? This place is an old dump. Why would he come here? He’s got a lotta money, and he smiles a lot. Too much. Says he runs a few titty sites on the Internet.” She went back to washing dishes.

Frank was pouring some whiskey into the empty glass, and he stopped and turned to her. “Really? Titty sites?”

She turned to him. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that. You an’ your titty sites. I got a bad feelin’ about him.”

“Maybe the guy just wants to live in some outta the way dumpy trailer park, who the hell knows anything about anybody? You’re always tryin’ to figure out what’s goin’ on in other people’s heads.” He took a couple big gulps of whiskey, put the glass down, then came up behind Muriel and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He rubbed his hands over her belly, then slid them up and cupped her sagging breasts. “You gotta stop tryin’ to get into other people’s heads, my melon princess.” He kissed her neck.

Muriel laughed and put her hands over his. “I can’t help it. I see things other people don’t. And I’m seein’ somethin’ in that young man. There’s somethin’ wrong about him.”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s prob’ly innocent as pie. Hell, he runs titty sites, he can’t be all bad.”

“You know how lucky you are you gotta wife lets you look at them titty sites on the Internet?”

“Oh, yeah, I know how lucky I am. And you know the only titties I really want are yours.”

Twelve

Kendra held Dexter in her arms and danced around in circles with him as a music video played on TV. When she finally stopped, she was a little dizzy, and she laughed.

“You like that, Dexter?” she said. She hoped she hadn’t made the little dog dizzy – she hadn’t meant to do that. She put him down and he immediately rose up on his hind legs and began pawing at her shins. “Hey, I got an idea,” Kendra said.

She left the living room and went to her bedroom and to the closet. She had a box of balls on the floor of her closet. In it was the multicolored ball she’d been bouncing earlier that day. There were also smaller balls, and much smaller balls. She found one small enough for Dexter to be able to pick it up with his little mouth, then left her bedroom.

“Oh, no, Dexter!” Kendra shouted when she found the little dog urinating on the kitchen floor.

He stopped and scurried away, whining.

She went to him and shouted, “No! No, bad boy, Dexter, bad boy!” as she wagged a finger at him.

Dexter quivered and whined and lowered his head and tucked his skinny little tail between his legs.

Kendra went back and cleaned up the little puddle with paper towels. She hoped she was doing this right – she had no idea how to house train a dog. She was simply doing what made sense to her.

She went back to the living room, where Dexter was still huddling at the foot of the recliner.

“I’m sorry, Dexter,” Kendra said as she sat down beside him, “but you gotta learn that’s a no-no. You wanna play fetch?” She showed him the ball and he took some interest. She threw the ball into the kitchen and Dexter darted away after it, little toenails clicketing on the kitchen floor. He went to the ball and playfully knocked it around on the kitchen floor. But he didn’t bring it back, no matter how much Kendra called him.

She got up, went to the kitchen, snatched up the ball, then returned to the recliner. Dexter never took his eyes from the ball and followed her all the way. She threw the ball and Dexter shot off after it. Again, he did not bring it back, even though she called him.

Kendra occupied herself with this activity for about half an hour before suddenly, out of nowhere, Dexter picked up the ball and brought it back to her, dropped it in her lap, as if he’d known how to do it all along, but hadn’t wanted to.

“You little poop!” she said. “You been playin’ with me all along, huh?”

For another fifteen minutes, Kendra tossed the ball and Dexter brought it back. She was endlessly entertained by the way he ran, by the way he trotted back with the ball in his mouth, head held high. By the way his whole back-end waggled as he eagerly waited for her to throw the ball.

She threw it too hard and a little too far to the left. The ball bounced around in the kitchen sink. Dexter ran into the kitchen and stopped, body rigid, and looked around for the ball. It was nowhere to be seen, so he lowered his head and began to sniff around for it.

Kendra got up and took the ball from the sink, and dropped it. Dexter snapped at it as it bounced in the air a few times before coming lower, and lower, and lower, until Dexter finally caught it in his little mouth. Head high again, he trotted away.

Kendra leaned her hips back on the edge of the kitchen counter and thought about how lucky she was. Because