William Bankier - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 92, No. 3. Whole No. 547, September 1988

His car was in its usual place in the parking lot, and she parked next to it. His apartment was dark. She rang his doorbell several times, but he didn’t answer. Sounds of music and laughter and voices came from an apartment across the small courtyard that served as a common patio for the half dozen apartments built around it. Harmony found her key in her purse and was opening Eric’s door when the music and voices suddenly grew louder and light splashed onto the courtyard from the opened door of the noisy apartment. A woman laughed and a man answered with laughter that she recognized.

Eric said, “Let’s try my place.”

The woman said, “We shouldn’t.”

“Of course we should. You liked it there last time. Not to mention the time before, and the time—”

“Hush — aren’t you the one who’s always talking about being discreet?”

Their laughter came closer, and Harmony looked for someplace to hide. Eric and the woman — a blonde — stepped from the shadows into the splash of light in the courtyard. There was noplace for Harmony to escape except into Eric’s apartment. She jumped inside and shut the door behind her.

In the living room past the small foyer, she stopped. Had she locked the door? Would Eric notice if it was unlocked? She hurried to the study. It was actually a second bedroom, but Eric put a desk and his computer in it and called it a study. She left a small crack in the door, just enough to hear through, and knelt on the floor behind the desk.

The front door closed and the voices were in the apartment. Then there was a brief silence except for the sound of someone moving around. “Wine?” Eric said.

The woman must have nodded — there was the sound of the wine being poured and glasses clinked together.

Harmony felt a mixture of anger and humiliation rising up in her so strongly it seemed to her that Eric and the woman should have been able to sense it. He had told her he needed her. He had never said he loved her, but at those times recently when he was near to saying something, she believed he had come close. He had acted like he might love her, she told herself, he really had.

The woman said, “I want another glass.”

Eric said, “Don’t get sloshed on me. It’s a lot more fun when you know what you’re doing.”

“One more.”

Again Harmony heard someone moving around.

The woman said, “What are you doing?”

Eric said, “My message light is on.”

“Let it go.”

“I don’t like to ignore messages. You never know when it might be important.”

Harmony heard her own voice. Although most of the words weren’t distinct, she heard herself singing “Ta ta!”

Eric said, “Damn!”

“What’s the matter?”

“You have to go, my love.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I said, love. Harmony’s on her way over here. The girl I told you has been pestering me. You’ve got to be a good girl and disappear. Go back to the party, or go upstairs to your place. I’ll get rid of her and come for you. It won’t take long, but she’s going to be here any minute — you’ve got to go.”

The woman said, “I thought you were going to tell her to get out of your life.”

“I am, love, I am. I’m looking for the right moment. She’s a sweet kid and I don’t want to hurt her any more than I have to.”

“If you can’t tell her, I can.”

“I’ll do it. Come on, you’ve got to go, love. I’ll come for you after I’ve gotten rid of Harmony.”

Harmony bit her lip and tasted blood. Her eyes filled and the very air in the room seemed to attack her flesh. She thought of what she had deluded herself he had been trying to say. She clenched her fists and leaned her forehead on the desk, fighting down the scream swelling up inside her. From the other room came the sound of a slap. The woman said, “Don’t pat me there and tell me you’re waiting for another woman.”

“Don’t be difficult, love.”

“If I’m your love, meet her at the door and tell her you’re with someone else.”

“I can’t do it that way. Harmony’s too sweet.”

“Don’t push me!” the woman said.

“You’ve got to go!”

“No, I don’t!”

There was the sound of another slap, only this time it was a sharper sound of flesh against flesh, hard. Someone fell.

The woman said, “You bastard!”

“Don’t call me names, love. Just get the hell out of here.”

“You’re going to have to throw me out.”

“Suit yourself.”

Harmony listened to Eric and the woman fighting. The sounds got louder, then diminished, as if they had moved from the living room to the kitchen. Both were yelling. Objects fell, maybe a lamp or a couple of lamps, with the sound of glass breaking. Harmony stood and moved to the door, trying to see through the crack.

“You bastard!” the woman said again.

“Put that down.”

There was the sound of the woman sucking in air and then pushing it out again. Something heavy fell. The woman shouted, “Oh, my God!”

Eric said, “Get help! Quick!” There was something wrong with his voice.

Harmony opened the door and moved cautiously into the living room. Beyond, in the kitchen, she could see the blonde woman, who was very pretty, standing over Eric. On the floor, with a large kitchen knife stuck in his abdomen, he was trying to get up. The woman was wiping blood from her hands onto her blouse. All the buttons on her blouse were undone.

“Help me!” Eric said. His voice was weaker.

The blonde turned and ran from the apartment. Beyond the closed door Harmony heard her high heels rapping sharply along the paved walk, then on the stairs and along the balcony that allowed entrance to the second-floor apartments. A door slammed. Harmony went to the kitchen and leaned over Eric, who had fallen back on his side.

“Harmony!” he said, seeing her. “Thank God you’re here! Call an ambulance, please!”

Harmony knelt beside him, but not within reach, careful to stay clear of the blood. His shirt and the top of his pants were soaked with it. It covered his hands and ran onto the floor. The look in his eyes was changing from intense pain and fear to a slowly growing cloudiness. As she watched his face turn grey, she thought of herself hiding in the study, listening to the soft laughter and the wine glasses clinking together. “Harmony,” she heard him saying, “I’ll get rid of her. I’ll come for you.” The woman had stood over him with the buttons of her blouse undone. Had that happened in the fight or had Eric unbuttoned her blouse on the sofa before he went to get the second glass of wine?

“Harmony,” he whispered.

She said, “I’m here, Eric.” She said it softly, almost tenderly, but she didn’t touch him.

She watched him until he closed his eyes and fell asleep. His breathing came hard, with long spaces between breaths. Then she got to her feet. Stepping carefully around the blood, she found the answering machine and ran it back to where her message to him began. She erased it, looked back once at Eric, and left, closing the door behind her, thinking not to lock it.

In the parking lot, she looked up at the apartments on the second floor over Eric’s. There were lights on in most of them, and she had no idea which one the blonde had run to. Was she trying to wash the blood off her hands and out of her blouse? The party across the courtyard was still going on.

The clock on her dresser read 1:46. She was surprised she had been gone so long. She changed again for bed, turned out the light, and looked out at the clear, dark sky full of stars.

She leaned over and dialed Eric’s number, listened to his recorded message, waited for the tone, then said, “This is Harmony. I wanted to tell you goodnight, Eric, and to say I’m sorry I missed you tonight. Call me again if you ever need me. Ta ta, Eric.” She said the “Ta ta” sadly.