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Murder, Broads, and Bones (part 3)

February 21, 2013

murdered woman

THE BROAD

      Harriet was not what she appeared to be.  She was a sick kid who had a rough start in life. She contracted Leprosy from a doctor who, realized he had the disease when he lost his arm in Harriet’s mom’s uterus while delivering Harriet.  Trying to hide his illness the doctor finally removed both Harriet and his arm and claimed that they were paternal twins.  At first mom favored the doctor’s arm because it slept through the night and she could use it to scratch her back.  Finally when it also slept through the day and would smell after she changed its diaper, her mom discovered the doctor’s deception.       Before Harriet could drop any body parts in front of the other kids, fearing ridicule, she dropped out of school.

As a teenager she earned a living as a leper pick pocket until a mark felt her hand on his wallet.  Luckily she was a block away at the time.  Still she found herself on the street, broke, alone, and with one hand.   For the next two years desperate to keep the elements off what was still attached she lived in a revolving door.  It was there that fate stepped in and she met her first husband, a plastic surgeon who specialized in wealthy woman who lost their right hands due to leprosy.   He was taken by Harriet’s beauty, her easy laugh, which was really a rare strain of the whopping cough, and her cute ears (he just wished that he’d had found the second one before he stepped on it).  A shy man with his own handicap he stood in the shadows and admired Harriet, until one night when he finally got the nerve to follow her.

By picking up the trail of her falling body parts he discovered where she lived, but not having a great sense of direction he didn’t realize that he was just walking in circles at the entrance to his own building.  There, ready to propose, he got down on one knee, but because of his nervousness he’d forgotten that he’d lost that leg in a banjo stringing accident and fell to the ground.  He never again forgot to take along his crutches.  While lying on the floor with the revolving door rapidly pushing him in circles because an Ephedra support group was entering the building, he proposed to Harriet.

She said, “No Never.”

He thought she said, “Yo! Trevor!” which didn’t sound like Frank, his real name, but he decided it was as close as he’d ever get to a positive response. Harriet who was light headed from not eating for three hundred and seventy days (she liked to skip meals) forgot her answer and was too embarrassed to ask.  The next day Frank took Harriet’s good hand in marriage, and on their honeymoon he fixed the other.   After a good night’s sleep (at a Day’s Inn) and the promise of a meal, Harriet got out of bed and much to her surprise all of her parts went with her.  She no longer had Leprosy.  Frank was so thrilled he immediately replaced all of Harriet’s missing parts.  Unfortunately, a day later, while sitting at her bedside, Frank had a heart attack and died.

The coroner proclaimed that his heart attack was caused by the shock of feeling a bullet enter his brain.   Harriet said it was an accident and that she had learned a painful lesson and would never again clean a loaded gun so close to anyone’s temple, especially one with a silencer.  Harriet was left a large sum of money from a life insurance policy that paid triple if Frank’s death was caused by a heart attack from the fear of bullet entering his brain as a result of a loaded gun (with a silencer) being cleaned so close to his temple.   The insurance agent signed off on the policy saying that life was full of coincidences just like the five hundred grand deposited into his account on the day of the settlement.

Harriet sold her dead husband’s real estate and traveled all over our great country as a high class migrant worker, organic foods only.  Harriet loved picking oranges, apples, corn and especially cotton.  Then suddenly while removing the husk from a rotten corn cob and seeing the discolored and missing kernels, she realized that she hadn’t brushed her teeth in five years.  The last year was not really her fault because only one back tooth remained, which she never saw.   It was because of that she was soon to hook up with Doc Slattery.  She was admiring a mortally wounded lover’s dental work and upon closer she look she saw the doctor’s signature, office number, fax number, home number, cell phone number, address, favorite color and a prescription for Percadan chiseled on his upper molars.

THE  THREAT 

      Harriet hijacked the next plane back here.  She was never charged by the authorities when she claimed mental distress because the airplane food dissolved her teeth.  Not only did she get away with the lie, but she was awarded several million dollars plus 20,000 frequent flyer miles and a free up grade to first class.  A few days later Doc Slattery and Harriet met at his office and although they soon had two children, co owned several houses, and had joining burial plots they decided not to get serious about each other.   The last time Doc saw Harriet was a week ago when she threatened to kill him and anyone he knew if she ever saw his face or heard anyone say a name that started or ended with the same letters as his.  And that was before she pushed Doc out his office window.  Luckily, there was a window washer outside and Doc fell into him, which knocked the guy off the scaffold and sent him twenty stories to his death.  The window washer would have been flattened like a pancake if he didn’t land on a man just released from ten years on death row because of DNA evidence who also would have died a more painful death if he didn’t get knocked into twin sisters who were separated at birth and reunited a few seconds earlier.   Luckily for the sisters there were enough parts uncrushed to make one complete body for the coffin.

I asked Doc why Harriet was so mad at him, and he said it may have been because he jokingly removed two of her teeth through an opening other than her mouth.   He couldn’t understand why she would still be upset after all he apologized for not using Novocain.   I had a feeling there was something he was holding back, something that involved me.

When Doc finished telling his story, I woke up Layla, who in her sleep was making sounds like a blender stuck on the pulverize setting.  I thanked Doc for leveling with us and said I saw no reason to suspect him.

THE  PIZZA BOY

      It seems everywhere Harriet went there were fresh corpses.  Could this be just coincidence?  And is it just a coinsodence that every case I get is unsolvable?  I was beginning to doubt my talent as a private investigator when I noticed the elevator had stopped at my floor.  That’s when it hit me.  I hadn’t really been paying attention.   Immediately I started to feel better about where I was at.   Not because of the case, but because I never noticed that I had an elevator in my building.  For years I walked up and down the same smelly stairs.  I knew every step of those twenty-seven floors.   Sometimes things just aren’t what they seem.   In this case nothing was as it seemed.  Heck I’m not what I seem.

I let the pizza kid pass, but the smell of melted mozzarella cheese always gets me hot.  I grabbed Layla’s hand and put it on my private part but nothing happened.  Then I did the same with her other hand – still nothing.  So I asked my big muscular neighbor to do the same.   He gave me a sharp right to the head!  Suddenly something started to swell.  My face!  I was back!  Before Layla could go into a second chorus of moil sounds I lifted her up, French kissed her left nostril– I’m far sighted–then I pulled her back into my apartment.  Thinking of Layla’s body gave me another question to ask Doc.

Doc had the pizza kid on the ground and was ripping one of his teeth out.  I waited till he was finished and the kid stopped convulsing.  It didn’t take long, the kid passed out when he saw Doc spit the tooth into his mouth along with a hunk of pepperoni.  Doc said he didn’t have enough for a tip so he removed a tooth for the kid.  Now he’ll have fewer teeth to worry about going bad.

Before Doc could do a root canal with his tongue, I asked him about Harriet’s body. Then Doc asked me about Layla’s body.  I told him I asked first.   Then Layla asked him about Doc’s body.  No one wanted to budge so we stripped the pizza kid and looked at his body for no apparent reason.  It didn’t turn any of us on, so after about five minutes of staring we had seen enough and put his clothes back on.   Of course we tied his shoe laces together.  We were a fun group.  Finally I explained my question to Doc.

“I want to know if you could tell that most of Harriet’s body wasn’t real?”    Doc said, “Of course, anyone could.  Her dead husband was not only a terrible plastic surgeon, but had this thing for Velcro.  Before going to bed she’d tare the parts off and set them on the end table.”

To spice up their sex life Doc and Harriet put her body parts back in different places.  The dead body at my office was perfect, no artificial parts, and no Velcro, which meant Harriet was still alive and probably the shooter.  But who was the dead girl?  There was only one way to find out.

(End Part 3)

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From → Oddball Stories

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