Harry’s big purple Packard sailed up Main Street, anachronistic among the small, contemporary cars. A dinosaur among ducks. From a tape player on the front seat next to Harry came Ella Fitzgerald and Chick Webb’s “Sing Me a Swing Song.”
In Longmeadow, Springdale’s rich suburb—big Tudor houses set back on two-acre plots—Harry parked the Packard and got out.
Leaves covering the front lawn swirled up and, turning into small birds, took flight. The breeze held a taint of manure from someone’s garden.