Tzimmes Cracked Corn (And I Don’t Care)
A Spontoon Island story
© 2022 Walter Reimer
(Characters courtesy of M. Mitch Marmel, J.T. Urie and E.O. Costello. Thanks!)

Thumbnail art by  Warren

27.


Willow:

Shocking.

Simply scandalous.

You would think that, when confronted by a blatant display of capitalist tendencies at their very own front door, the Red Fist would immediately sally forth to proselytize.

That they didn’t merely points out that some of them at least lacked the courage of their convictions. Fine lot of ideological missionaries they turned out to be. I shall write a very strongly worded letter to the Committee of Nine – anonymously, of course.

And thus endeth the third lesson.

In the back of my mind, I could hear Grace giggling.

I invited Uncle Allan, Aunt Vee, and Athena up to our rooms for drinks and a council of war leading into Friday night and the two parties that were being planned. Reggie begged off, since he had a business meeting and was organizing one of the aforesaid parties.

Well, they had drinks; I was bottle-feeding Tommy, so my paws were full. The traditional tribute of oohs and ahhs were duly surrendered to the cute little buck-fawn, and we got down to business.

Athene listened, wide-eyed, as Allan and Vee regaled us with their reports about the ‘street market’ that decided to set up shop right in front of a foreign embassy. As a small-scale recreation of the Berners Street hoax, it had gone off without a hitch, and Da hadn’t gotten involved. When they wrapped up, the champagne-furred skunkess fanned herself and said, “Good Lord, that was great. What’s next?”

Eyes turned to me, and I said, “Well, if we don’t count the squirrels – “ we all paused to laugh “ – I think three pranks is quite enough. Da and Rosie’s wedding is coming up on Sunday, and I think we’ve given those indefinites enough to worry and think about that they won’t bother us.”

“I’m looking forward to the party,” Athena said. “I’ve never been to the Double Lotus. Is it nice?”

Recalling what went on at Inocenta’s party, I only hoped that they’d try to keep things under wraps. “I’m sure it’ll be a good night.”

“Good. Jacob’s going to the Inspector’s party, here at Shepherd’s,” Athena said.

“Should be a good turnout,” Allan offered. Vee gave him a look.

“Well, I’m sure that everything will be just fine,” I said.


***


September 30, 1938

Rosie:

They showed up as Vicky, Suki and Teri, and I were cleaning up and getting ready to close Luchow’s until I got back from my honeymoon.

Honeymoon. Hee!

I’ve been positively giddy at the prospect.

Anyway, they – Toni, Kara, Willow and Athena – showed up and chipped in to help clean up the place. Nick had already chased B’onss and K’nutt away after they’d washed the last of the dishes. He assured me that the wedding dinner would be “wonderful,” but refused to say anything more.

“Thanks, guys,” I said as the last bucket of mop water was dumped out back. I eyed Toni, who was looking at her watch. “Hey, Stripes, do I have time to freshen up?”

My tigress chum grinned at me. “Half an hour, Spots, and then we all come up after you.” She laughed and the others glanced at each other as I went upstairs to get ready.

Franklin had moved out, temporarily, to his old cubbyhole at Nerzmann’s Book Store until after the wedding. Don’t look at me like that; it’s perfectly traditional that a bride and groom shouldn’t see each other till their wedding day. Even if we’ve been shacking up for a year or more before the great event.

While getting dressed, I paused to admire the ring he’d gotten me. A simple band with a bright, clear stone that my dear buck had bought from one of the pawnshops on Casino. I didn’t care where he had found it; it was beautiful, and I love him for it.

So after drying my eyes I fairly skipped downstairs, and we all headed off to the Lotus.

“Tell me something,” I said to Toni, who was arm in arm with me.

My old burly-Q partner grinned. “What?”

“How bad are things going to get at the Lotus?” I lowered my voice. “Athena’s never been, so she says. The things some of the girls get up to – “

“Never mind about that,” Toni said. “I had a chat with Brenda and Covina when I set this up, and the fix is in. No funny business – at least not downstairs.” The Lotus has a few rooms upstairs that you can rent by the hour, if you know what I mean.

Eglantine, the big tigress who watches the gate to make sure that no guys get in, gave us a big grin as we went past her and entered the Lotus. We all stepped in, and my jaw dropped just before my expression changed to a huge grin.

The place had been done up with flower garlands, with a huge banner reading Good Luck, Rosie and Franklin! hung above the bar. All the usual habitues of the bar were there, dressed in white, and Lisa Fallingwater started playing Here Comes the Bride on her clarinet.

“Welcome, our guest of honor!” Brenda called out, and everyone cheered.

Must be a little dusty in here. My eyes got all blurry.


***


Stagg:

I remember my bachelor party before I married Diana, of course. It was a very quiet affair, consisting of myself. Not even the best man at the service the next day saw fit to attend.

Well, that is in the past.

I had elected to wear the suit I usually wear to work for tonight. The gray silk suit that I’ll be wearing when I bring Rosie to the altar is still at Luchow’s after coming back from the tailor shop. It certainly fits much better, although I may decide to cut back on my meals slightly.

As I made a final adjustment to my tie and put my jacket on Herr Nerzmann gave a gentle tap on the door. “Herr Inspector?”

“Yes, Mr. Nerzmann?”

The mink was having a little trouble keeping his voice level. He sounded like he was close to laughing. “There are several men here for you.”

“Thank you.” I took a breath and braced myself before taking my cane in my paw and opening the door. They were all waiting there on the bookstore’s porch.

Orrin Brush, my best man. My right paw ever since I arrived here on Spontoon, and my constant shadow and support as we worked our way through case after case. Most, if I may be allowed a small amount of pride, were solved. Lives were saved and the cause of justice was served, but I know full well that I couldn’t have done anything without him.

Allan Minkerton, head of the largest detective agency in the world, and an old and dear friend of many years’ standing. It was he who masterminded the operation that spirited me out of the Red Fist’s execution cellar and set me on the road that has led me to this point. He also protected and guided my daughter Grace until she, too, found safer waters. I owe him a debt I can never repay.

Charles Sapper, the Chief of the Spontoon Islands Constabulary. The bulldog insisted that he be part of the wedding party, saying with some amusement that he was prepared to pull rank on me. He’s a solid and steady presence at the top of the organization, a far cry and a vast improvement over his predecessor.

Ranua Milikonu. The youngest of the four, but like the others married and with a family, and one of the first native Spontoonies to become an officer in the Rain Island Naval Syndicate. A much sharper mind than I had at the time, and while he’s no longer my student (“apprentice,” according to his superiors), he still visits to ask me about this or that aspect of either cryptanalysis or intelligence work.

I shook paws with them all before I said, “Well, gentlemen, I am here. Lead me to my doom.”

Allan and Charles laughed at that. “Nothing like that, Franklin,” Charles said.

“No worries, Sir,” Orrin said. “I’ve been keepin’ an eye an’ a half on Buckhorn t’ make sure there’s nothin’ bad happenin.’” Ranua just grinned, the terrier clearly enjoying the occasion.

So off we went, at a leisurely pace, to the water taxis and Shepherd’s Hotel.


***


Reggie:

Oh dear.

There’s some military chappie, from a few wars back, who said something about a plan not surviving the first time you put it up against an enemy. Or something like that.

What does this have to do with Inspector Stagg’s bachelor party, you may ask?

Simple. It’s not going quite the way I had planned it.

I had figured on having maybe a dozen furs at the Inspector’s bachelor party, an amount easily handled by Fausti. With tourist season over, the Long Bar would be largely deserted otherwise. A selection of foods had been laid out, nothing fancy and suitable for both herbivores and carnivores. There were even small iced cakes (something called gateaux Krimpette aux butterscotch) arrayed around a somewhat larger cake, and I suspected Chef Joseph’s fine paw.

Pierre du Cleds showed up first, along with a few off-duty members of the Constabulary in mufti. So far, so good, right?

Then more off-duty constables showed up.

Then a group of fellows from the naval base over on Moon Island, wearing those blue boiler suits, and led by no less than Captain Maxwell, the base commander. British ex-pat from his accent, and he was a bluff and jolly sort. Doctor Meffit showed up as well, but was called away after a half hour. Some emergency at the hospital.

By this time the party had spilled out of the small room I’d reserved, and was out into the bar proper, and I sought out Fausti.

“Oh, Señor,” the diminutive deer said in his soft voice, “Fausti would find it hard to serve so many, but Fausti has planned for this. Two more bartenders will be here to help.”

Oh. Well, that was all right then.

I stepped back from the bar as the guest of honor, with escort, came into the room and the assembled guests cheered.




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