Accordion to Whom?

Accordion to Whom?

August 20, 2024

Debbie ran her fingers over the Scandalli Super VI Farfisa with envy. “How can someone else have this and not me?”

The proprietor asked her not to touch the accordion. He knew she could not afford the price. He knew she never would.

Still, Debbie wanted this instrument and she wanted it right now.

The shop closed at 7pm. The proprietor locked up and walked toward his car. The sales were off today, as July often is. If it were September, the parents of all of the 10 year old musical prodigies would be making their first payment of a variety of instruments each of the teachers from a variety of schools would require for a variety of students to have.

“Yes, September would be a good month, indeed.”

Few people can describe the sound of a baseball bat milliseconds before impact with the ear that actually registered the noise. The proprietor would eventually be discovered by the police arriving at the call of a break in. This would take nearly seven minutes.

In the first two minutes of the seven, his key was removed and the lock opened. Not caring if a silent alarm activated, the thief believed the ends justifies the means. The race was on.

Without turning on the lights, the thief located the Scandalli, wrapped it in a waterproof sack, broke a rear window, and lowered the sack to a person waiting outside the building, using a bicycle to make an escape.

The thief made their escape only after making sure the police witnessed the escape. This would draw the police toward the escapee and not the bicyclist.

The very next morning, Debbie returned to the store, wanting to apply a new version of class warfare to the absent proprietor. The stand-in detective waited for her to approach where the Scandalli previously resided before making the formal arrest declaration.

Debbie was cuffed, searched, and finding no ID, booked, photographed, and fingerprinted. Police garnered a search warrant from a sympathetic judge and searched her apartment for the missing instrument.

By 5pm, with no evidence found, and newly lawyered up, Debbie’s posted bail, and went home for the evening, not speaking of her day to anyone.

But that did not stop the detectives. If not Debbie, then who assaulted the proprietor and stole the valued accordion? Weeks passed, then months, with no leads. Debbie refused any plea deal. The prosecution at the trial faced a sympathetic jury inclined to find for the accused. Even with the proprietor’s testimony, including emergency room photos, Debbie and her lawyer were confident with their chances.

In only 15 minutes of deliberation, the jury found for the defendant. The proprietor’s insurance paid for the damage to his establishment and person. Debbie’s lawyer filed a series of motions to expunge her arrest records and two lawsuits for punitive damages. The DA’s office finally acquiesced and settled out of court for an undisclosed, yet lucrative sum.

It took only until spring before most inquiring minds moved on to other sordid details emanating from other sordid people. Debbie was no longer on anyone’s radar.

Except one.

The one missing a baseball bat.

The one with a sister highly proficient in bicycle riding with a variety of unbalanced loads.

Debbie had the cash to conclude a transaction. She also had a few second hand books on how to play an accordion.

The sisters departed richer than expected. Debbie was such a good tipper.

Debbie had what she wanted, but could never play it. It became a symbol of ill gotten desires and the violence required to acquire it.

Nonetheless, today, Debbie was happy with the outcome.

However, by tomorrow, might need a diamond necklace she had wanted.

“How can someone else have this and not me?”