The Bass Wore Scales Read Free

Sweet Alice.”
    I snorted into my coffee and glanced up at Collette. She was writing the order on her pad, seemingly unperturbed.
    “ You want me to pin a rose on that bossy?” she asked Nancy. “And maybe grease the British?”
    Nancy looked as though she were trying to decide. “Sure. Pin a rose on it. And the other thing, too.”
    Collette nodded, smiled and made her way back to the kitchen.
    “ What was that about?” I asked.
    “ Rats,” said Nancy in disgust. “I thought I had her. I’ve been practicing since last night.”
    “ Did you really want to pin a rose on bossy?”
    Nancy shrugged. “I have no idea. I hope it tastes good.”

    * * *

    Dave came in a few moments later, walked up to the counter, leaned across and gave Collette a kiss.
    “ Oh, puhlease,” growled Nancy under her breath. “Get a room.”
    Dave pulled out the chair opposite Nancy and sat down. “Morning, all,” he chirped.
    “ Well, someone’s in a good mood,” I said.
    “ Hey Dave,” said Nancy, her voice switching from caw to chirp. “Guess what? We’re all getting promotions and new badges.”
    “ Wait just a second,” I said. “I didn’t agree to that.”
    “ You mean I get a promotion, but Dave doesn’t?” asked Nancy, a look of false innocence on her face.
    “ Okay,” I said. “Everybody gets promotions and new badges.”
    “ And raises,” added Nancy.
    “ Now just wait a minute...”
    “ That’s okay,” said Dave. “I don’t need a raise.”
    As far as I knew, Dave not only didn’t need a raise; he didn’t even need to work. When I hired Dave some five years ago, he told me that his trust fund provided a very comfortable income for him. He was just looking for something to do. Dave is the guy who answers the phones, fills out the reports and tends to be “on-call” more often than the rest of us. He’s still listed as part-time, but I may have to upgrade his status in our new report.
    “ How big’s my promotion?” asked Dave. “Sergeant? Lieutenant?”
    “ I’m the Lieutenant,” said Nancy. “You can be the officer-in-charge-of-donuts. Now about my raise…”
    “ But he’s gettin’ married,” chimed in Collette, reappearing with the coffee pot. “He needs to have some respect.”
    “ She’s right, Dave,” I said. “You need to become respectable. You can be an officer with the respectable rank of corporal.”
    “ Oooo,” sighed Collette. “Mrs. Corporal Vance. I do like the sound of that .”
    I watched Nancy’s nostrils flare slightly, but she saw me looking at her and composed herself quickly. “Yes, Mrs. Corporal Vance. You should put it on the wedding announcements,” she said sweetly.
    “ Thanks, hon. I think I will,” said Collette, pinching Dave’s cheek and heading back to the kitchen. “I’m so proud of my Snookie-Pie.”
    “ Snookie-Pie?” guffawed Nancy as I stifled a chortle of my own. “My GOD! Snookie-Pie?!”
    “ No pinching the customers, Collette.” Pete was coming out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Not even Snookie-Pie, here. You want to pinch someone, pinch me.”
    “ Hey, Officer Snookie-Pie,” said Nancy as Pete sat down. “Pass me the sugar, will you?” Nancy didn’t take sugar in her coffee. She was just looking for an excuse to say “Officer Snookie-Pie,” and who could blame her?
    “ That’s Corporal Snookie-Pie,” corrected Dave.
    “ Breakfast will be right up,” Pete said.
    Pete had taken over the Slab Café, aka the family business, after his college career and a stint in the Army Band. His major had been philosophy, but he could blow a mean tenor sax and although Army life wasn’t suited to him, he still enjoyed playing and gigged from time to time in some regional pick-up groups. He hadn’t changed much since college, still sporting a ponytail, now gray, and the occasional earring. He favored brightly colored Hawaiian shirts, jeans, and sandals, and, according to his own admission, hadn’t worn any