And On That Note
A Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
(Various characters are copyright their respective owners.)

Thumbnail art by  SusanDeer


Two.



“Gods prosper-thou day-this, Karok-son-Karok,” the water taxi driver said in Spontoonie as he brought the small craft alongside the pier. The otter grinned as the burly fox in the suit, flat cap and excessively loud tie tipped him.

“Gods prosper-thou-additionally, Na’la-son-M’tapa,” Orrin Brush said as he stepped off the boat and onto the pier. Sure, he didn’t have to tip the driver, but it was courteous of him, and water taxi drivers were useful sources of information. He paused to adjust his tie and set off down the water taxi rank to the main road.

Meeting Island was the seat of Spontoon’s government, so muggers and sneak thieves were usually rare. If any were prowling about at this time of the morning, they gave Brush a wide berth. The fox had a fearsome reputation among the criminal element on the islands, and most of them hid their heads after Inspector Stagg went off to Tillamook the previous year for his honeymoon, leaving Brush as the entire Detective Bureau.

Feeling that the Inspector had been a restraining influence on the fox, many of the criminal community felt it was prudent to take a vacation.

The gate to the biergarten was open when Brush walked up to it, and the fox grinned and followed his nose inside to the coffee urn, where he poured his second cup of the day. His first had been at breakfast in his family’s home on Main Island, but that didn’t stop him from having an additional cup or three while at work.

And he included escorting his superior to and from the office as part of his daily duties.

“Mornin’ Inspector,” the apricot-colored fox said.

“Good morning, Sergeant,” Franklin Stagg said. He doffed his hat to Vicky, who had just emerged from the kitchen. “Miss Knox, good morning.”

“Good morning, Inspector,” the waitress said. “Rosie coming down?”

“She’s getting ready, and probably giving young Miss Brush more instructions.”

“My cousin made it, huh?” Sergeant Brush asked. “She’s good, Sir. Looks after kids as a business sometimes. She won’t have any trouble with th’ twins.”

“I imagine she’ll have her paws full,” Stagg said. “They’re crawling around a lot more, and there are two of them. One or the other might get into mischief.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Inspector,” Vicky said. “Rosie and me’ll be right here if she needs us. Say, Orrin?”

“Hanh?”

“Have you seen your brothers headed this way? Rosie wanted them here by seven to get things set up.”

“Nah, I ain’t seen them two dimwits. Wit’ Speed Week comin’ up, there’s no tellin’ what they’ll be up to.”

Ears swiveled at the sound of running feet and two tod-foxes bolted through the gate and came to a stop to catch their breath. They had Sergeant Brush’s apricot-orange fur, but they were younger and identical twins.

“Hiya, Vicky! Inspector. ‘Lo, Orrin,” B’onss said. He was the more articulate of the two; his brother K’nutt had a pronounced stutter. “Rosie down here yet?”

“Not yet,” the Inspector said.

B’onss snorted. “Ain’t that just like a dame – “

Thock!

“ – who, ‘course, is welcome to take her time.” B’onss tugged at his shirt collar as Vicky, a former carnival artist, went to retrieve the throwing knife that she’d thrown unerringly to the bull’s-eye in the center of a wooden target on the far side of the room. The vixen was known for practicing where furs known to annoy her could observe her aim. She slipped the blade back up her sleeve into its sheath as Rosie came into the room.

“Hi, Vicky! B’onss talking out of turn again?” Her friend and employee laughed as she nodded, and Rosie gave her husband a hug and a warm kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, Inspector,” she purred.

The buck gave his wife a warm smile and returned the kiss. “Good morning, Mrs. Stagg,” and Rosie grinned. “Well, Sergeant, shall we get to work?”

“Yes, Sir,” and the Inspector and the Sergeant left the biergarten.

“Gonna be anudder hot day, Sir,” Brush observed as they walked down the road to the Constabulary.

“And just before the air races,” Stagg agreed.


***


“Okeh,” Rosie said to the twin foxes, “when Nick gets here I need you two to do a complete inventory. I want to make sure that the Speed Week fans enjoy their stay.”

“K-K-Kay, R-R-Rosie,” K’nutt stammered.

“Aw, do we hafta?” B’onss groaned. “We just did that last week!”

The cheetah planted her paws on her hips. “And I’m telling you to do it again, okeh?”

B’onss dipped his ears, “Okeh, okeh, youse the boss. But you’re bein’ really jumpy, Rosie. Anything wrong?”

“None of your business,” Rosie said. “I want everything to go well – and that means that we have to have enough things in stock to keep the paying customers happy, capisce?” Her ears perked, as did everyone else’s, at a deep bass voice.

It didn’t matter that the lyrics were in Russian, it was a very nice song, and sung well.

Nikolai Lopanearov was a rabbit, but tall and broad-shouldered. He’d been a chef at an officer’s club in Vladivostok before the Communist takeover, and had been Rosie’s cook at Luchow’s for a few years. “Good morning, Rrosie!” he said, rolling his r’s impressively. “And the lovely Miss Victorria.” The rabbit dipped his long ears at the sight of the two handifurs.

“You look like you’re in good spirits, Nick,” Vicky said.

“Hah! Nikolai Ivanovich has had the most wonderful night,” the buck said with a broad smile. “He met little doe, you see,” he added with a wink and a tap of a finger alongside his nose.

“Nice girl, eh?” Rosie asked.

The buck wagged a finger. “Ah-ah! Nikolai Ivanovich does not kiss and tell, Rosie.”

The cheetah laughed. “All right, Casanova. The breakfast crowd will be starting shortly,” and the rabbit nodded, “and these two will be helping you get the inventory done.” Nick gave the twin tods a glare that promised fire and slaughter if they caused any trouble, and he waved them into the kitchen to get things underway.

It was still a week before the opening of the Schneider Cup festivities, so the furs coming in for breakfast were still largely regulars. There were several groups of tourists, however, which promised a good turnout for the restaurant and for the other businesses in the Spontoons.

It also meant that people were still willing to get away from it all despite what was going on.

While wiping a table after lunchtime Rosie flinched, ears flat against her skull, as a single-engine plane soared over her business, its twin floats nearly low enough to brush the roof of the building. The cheetah straightened up and snarled an imprecation in Yiddish as the plane flew off toward the lagoon and Vicky came out into the biergarten. “Rosie! What the hell was that?”

“Damned Amateur Hour,” Rosie grumbled. “The Brits, Germans, and the French aren’t going to be here this year, so there’s a lot of tail-dragging idiots showing up. Didn’t recognize the flag, but they almost took tiles off the roof.”

“That close?” the vixen asked, and she whistled. “Why don’t you go upstairs and make sure things are all right?”

Rosie looked around. There were only a few tables occupied. “Thanks, Vicky,” and she headed for the stairs.

“Hello, Mary?” she asked as she came in, and grinned at the sight of her two spotted fawns on the couch on either side of Mary. A picture book was open in the vixen’s lap. “Everything okeh?”

“Everything’s fine, Rosie,” Mary said. “Was that a plane overhead?”

“Yeah. It cause any trouble?”

Mary shook her head. “I was reading them a story, and by coincidence the plane went overhead just as the big scary monster roared.” She chuckled. “Saved me the trouble of trying to do it.”

“They weren’t scared?” Mary shook her head and Rosie smiled. “Smart kids.”

“Well, this is Spontoon,” the vixen pointed out. “Planes go over all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” the fawns’ mother said. Satisfied that everything was all right, Rosie went back downstairs to see Vicky facing off against B’onss. K’nutt was simply looking at a small box in his paws and grinning happily. “What’s going on?” Rosie asked. “As if I couldn’t guess.”

“Caught him – “ and Vicky pointed at B’onss “ – trying to sneak out the back way.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to sneak!” the tod protested.

“Y-Y-Yes, you w-w-w-were,” K’nutt stuttered. He flinched as his brother rounded on him, and hugged the box to his chest.

“Well, it’s certainly not your usual behavior,” the cheetah said. B’onss would usually hang around Luchow’s until he succeeded in breaking something or coming up with some sort of elaborate attempt at subterfuge.

His twin brother, on the other paw, would go ‘on break’ and be found some time later, wandering around looking for coconuts or trying to teach Marxist philosophy to the feral albino squirrels that lived on the islands. “And what’s up with you, K’nutt?”

“It c-c-c-came!” the younger tod stuttered triumphantly.

“The mail showed up while you were upstairs,” Vicky said.

“What came?” the cheetah asked. K’nutt showed her the box, and she read aloud, “’Buckhorn's Bubble Cud, Tropical Delight?’ Do I want to know what this is all about?”

“B-B-Buckhorn’s had a c-c-contest,” K'nutt said happily. “A f-f-free box if you s-s-say why it’s d-d-d-delicious. In th-thirty w-w-words or l-l-less.”

“Let me guess,” Rosie said. “You wrote ‘I likes cocoanuts’ ten times?”

“H-H-How’d you kn-know?”

“And it’s coconut flavored gum, huh?” K’nutt nodded.

Rosie had once remarked that the twins were as dumb as a hod of bricks. B’onss had vociferously protested, insisting that he and his brother were as dumb as two hods of bricks.

“So,” Rosie asked, “why were you not trying to sneak out?”

B’onss blinked, trying to sort the question out, and K’nutt piped up, “H-H-He’s g-got a d-d-date.”

“Quiet, you! I ain’t gotta date!” B’onss said. “I gotta ticket.”

“A ticket?” Rosie asked, she and Vicky exchanging glances.

“Yeah, I gotta ticket to go to th’ Grand tonight.” Some of the bigger hotels gave them out to drum up business just before tourist season, as new acts arrived for Speed Week.

“An’ h-he w-w-wants t-to g-g-get – OW!” K’nutt yowled as B’onss fetched him a clip to one ear. “I’m t-tellin’ M-MA!”

Rosie nodded. “Nick?”

“Da, Rosie?” the rabbit asked, his face appearing at the window.

“Is the inventory done?”

“Almost. Nikolai Ivanovich is putting together list of things.”

“Do you need these two to help you?”

The rabbit snorted. “Nyet.”

“Okeh. You two can go – but be on time tomorrow!” she called out to their receding backs.



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