By John Leatherman
A bejeweled ukulele strapped over her shoulder, Harmony Starr invites me inside her condo—at least in the sense that it has walls. It still feels like outside, with potted ferns and exotic plants dominating the living room. Chittering rodents and songbirds scurry and flutter among them. Certainly a creative use for her trust fund.
Meeting Harmony—tall, willowy, blonde, and clad in an orange-and-olive sundress—is like looking seven years back in a mirror. Not that I’ve lived with wild animals, but I’ve dated a few.
“So, Valerie Darling, you’re a reporter for the Eastville Downtowner?” She reads from my business card. “How can I help you?”
“Uh…” I force a smile, determined not to mention that I just told her a minute ago on the doorstep. Carrie had warned me to be patient with the eccentric heiress. “This is about your roommate, the masseuse?”
Glancing among the congress of forest denizens, she scowls. “I don’t think I have a moose in here…”
I shake my head. “No, no, no.”
“Oh, I get it. Your moose needs a place to stay. Sure, I could help you out. Don’t bring it in yet, though. Give me some time to establish a safe zone for the chipmunks.”
I hold up my hands. “No, I’m talking about your human roommate. The young lady who rents the upstairs loft?”
“Sorry, the loft upstairs is rented already. Nice gal. Karen or Carol something.”
“Carrie. Carrie Nelson.”
“Yes, that was it. Just like I said.” Leaning down, Harmony strokes a badger on the head. “So, what was all that about a moose?”
“Carrie is a masseuse. She gives massages.”
Harmony’s eyebrows leap. “She does? You think you know a person. All this time, I thought she was a… uh…” After a moment of pondering, she shrugs. “You know, I’ve been wanting to talk to her myself. So why don’t we go up to the loft and wait for her?”
She leads me up a spiral staircase, each step shellacked with rainbow glitter.
Sinking onto a nubbly lavender ottoman, she gestures toward a yellow shag sofa. “Just have a seat. I haven’t seen Carrie in a couple of days, so I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”
As I sit, I struggle to reconcile this Harmony Starr with the one from the police interrogation.
Duffer: “When did you last see Carrie?”
Starr: “I was with Carrie the night before the night before Easter.”
Duffer: “So… Friday? You were with her Friday night?”
Starr: “Yes. I was with Carrie Friday night.”
Based on those words alone, Detective Frank Duffer arrested Carrie for the Easter Eve stabbing murder of City Comptroller Joe Enza, a crucial witness in the corruption trial of former mayor Spark Spaulding. Both were massage clients of Carrie. The DA’s theory is that Spaulding hinted Carrie might receive a hefty gratuity for eliminating his biggest source of stress.
But Carrie pleaded innocence to anyone who would listen. In my jailhouse interview with her, she insisted she was with Harmony that Saturday night. “Harmony must have misunderstood the question.”
Harmony seems to misunderstand a lot. As she smiles and sways, humming a rhythmic tune to herself, I start to sympathize with Carrie’s court-appointed defense attorney, who wants nothing to do with Harmony.
The attorney thinks this child-of-the-universe stuff is a facade, and Harmony is deliberately incriminating Carrie in order to find a higher-paying tenant while Carrie languishes in prison.
As for me, though, I’m questioning Harmony’s basic mental competence. Does she even realize Carrie is in jail on her testimony?
Squirming in my seat, I clear my throat. “So, uh, Harmony, what did you need to talk to Carrie about?”
“I wanted to get her thoughts on these lyrics I just came up with.” Pulling the ukulele around into her lap, she strums and bursts into song.
Hide this one here, hide that one there,
Come on, Carrie, move those legs!
Those kids’ll search the whole town square
’Cause we’re great at hiding eggs!
But Carrie, you have another use;
You’ve somehow managed to dodge
Telling me that you’re a masseuse?
I think I’ve earned a free massage!
She slides the instrument back to her side. “What do you think? The second verse isn’t too pushy, is it?”
I shake my head. “I’m more interested in the first verse. Carrie helped you hide eggs the night before Easter?”
“Oh, yes, without her I’d never have gotten it done before it done before the kids arrived. Carrie was a big help.”
I frown. “Wait… why did you just say, ‘before it done before’?”
Wincing, Harmony spits out a nonsensical string of words. “Huh? Are you telling me I said before I said before it done before it done before it done before?”
Unwinding her tortuous syntax in my mind, I gasp like an industrial shop vac. “Harmony, do you have trouble saying sentences containing the word before?”
Harmony shakes her head. “I dunno, I’ve never really listened to myself talk before myself talk before.”
I repeat the sentence in my head.
“…myself talk before myself talk before…”
Harmony says the word before… then backs up three words and repeats herself.
This explains everything! Harmony had meant to say, “I was with Carrie the night before Easter.” Her weird verbal tic added an extra “the night before” and ruined Carrie’s alibi.
Scribbling furiously on my notepad, I formulate a defense strategy. “Listen, Harmony, Carrie won’t be back for a while. But it’ll be a lot sooner if you could go to court and answer some questions. Will you do that?”
Harmony smiles. “Sure. Then can I get a free massage?”
“I don’t see why not.” I leap up from the sofa. “This is great! I’ll see you later, Harmony. I need to go talk to Carrie.”
As I descend the helix, Harmony calls after me, “Okay, but I gotta warn you, sometimes she barely knows what’s going on.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Great story, John! I loved how you pulled in Spark and Joe. Also, your description of her naturalist apartment is painted exquisitely: “ Glancing among the congress of forest denizens….”
So glad you liked it!
Oh, and sorry, Joe… I killed you again. Hope you at least got a date with Kytt first! =]
Delightful story! I loved the moose/masseuse mix up from Harmony. 🙂
Don’t put Harmony in charge of bee inventory. You can’t trust her counting after bee three.
=}
For Bingo calling, though, I’d consider her quirk an asset.
Clever, and very funny, too, with a nice depiction of Harmony and all her quirks.
I thought the solution was well conceived. I loved learning her quirk along with the investigative reporter.
Great story John! Loved the reporter angle and seeing Spark and Joe mentioned!
Rather, investigator angle!