The Bass Wore Scales (31 page)

The bell on the door of the Slab jingled, announcing Dave and Nancy’s entrance. They came up to the table carrying a black plastic bag and sat down in the two empty chairs.

“
Found it,” said Nancy.

“
Really?” I was genuinely shocked. “I didn’t expect that.”

“
Me neither,” said Dave. “We tossed almost everything from one dumpster into the other, and then Nancy saw it.”

“
It’s a piece of pipe, just like we thought,” said Nancy, holding up the bag. “There’s still some blood on one end of it.”

“
It was wedged in the grand piano between the big iron plate and the big piece of wood,” said Dave. “Kokomo broke the board in half. That’s why Nancy was able to see it.”

“
In between the harp and the sounding board.”

“
I guess,” said Dave. “There were quite a few holes in the metal piece. Big enough to slide the pipe in and wedge it against the side.”

“
Yeah. The iron plate holds the strings and the holes make it a lot lighter without sacrificing any of the strength. There’s a lot of tension there. Wow! We never would have found it if Kokomo hadn’t broken the piano.”

“
But we did,” said Nancy, with a small smile.

“
Let’s get it over to Boone and see if we can get any prints or maybe a DNA sample.”

Nancy nodded and got to her feet.

“
I’ll take it over there now.” She looked over at Dave. “You want to come?”

“
No thanks. I’ve got to talk to Collette.”

“
Now, Snookie-Pie?” asked Nancy.

“
No time like the present. I’ve got to tell her the wedding is off. Is she here?” he asked Pete.

Pete looked confused, but interested. “In the kitchen. Feel free.”

“
What are you going to tell her?” asked Nancy.

“
The truth, I guess.

“
I’m outta here,” said Nancy.

* * *

The bell jingled again, and Meg exchanged a brief hello with Nancy as they passed each other in the doorway.

“
What’s up?” Meg asked, taking Nancy’s seat. “You guys are staring at the kitchen like a couple of foxes watching a henhouse.”

“
Shhh,” said Pete. “Dave’s going to break up with Collette.”

“
What?” whispered Meg. “Right now?”

“
In the kitchen,” Pete added.

“
What brought that on?”

“
I’ll tell you later,” I said.

Suddenly a plate broke in the kitchen. Then another one.

“
Oh, man,” said Pete, “she’s breaking the dishes.”

“
What do you mean you want to break up?!” Collette wailed, her voice carrying from the kitchen into the dining room. “What do you mean you can’t marry me?!”

We didn’t hear anything for another few seconds, then another scream.

“
Whaaaaat? You did
what?
With
her?
In the
dumpster?”

“
Ooo,” I said, with a grimace. “I don’t believe I’d have told her
that.”

“
The dumpster, eh?” chuckled Pete. “With who? Nancy?”

Collette slammed open the door of the kitchen, grabbed two dirty plates from off of the counter, spun on her heel and threw them back into the kitchen, presumably at an unapologetic Dave. We heard one crash immediately, but the other brought a yelp with the sound of the breaking china. Collette looked around the restaurant in a fury. The only other plates that were handy held our half-eaten pieces of pecan pie. Collette swiped them up in a single pass, kicked the kitchen door open and heaved them, one at a time, at the hapless Dave.

“
Aw,” said Pete, “that was the last piece, too.”

“
She’s got a good arm,” said Meg.

“
This is
your
fault!” Collette screamed, turning her fury toward me. “
You’re
the one that sent them to the dumpster!” She saw a rack of coffee cups behind the counter and moved toward them with murder in her eyes.

“
Let’s get you out of here!” I said, grabbing Meg’s hand. “I’ll be back in a second, Pete.” I ducked as a cup whizzed by my head and crashed into the wall behind the table. Meg and I made it to the front door before the second cup broke on the jamb. We managed to get outside, where we turned and viewed the rampage from a safe distance.

“
Collette!” bellowed Pete, “stop throwing stuff!”

“
You all sit there every day!” shrieked Collette, coffee mugs flying from her hands and smashing into the walls. “You sit there every day and make jokes, and all the while my fiancée is planning on breaking up with me!
And you all knew it!”
Collette found the glass coffee pots and both of them flew toward Pete.

“
Yooow,” hollered Pete. He ducked under the table, but the pots crashed on the top, splattering him with hot coffee. “Collette! We didn’t know anything. And you’re fired!”

“
I’ll fire
you!
” She picked up the Belgian waffle iron and threw it against the pie case. Glass exploded in all directions. Dave peeked out of the kitchen, and Collette saw him out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed a glass sugar shaker from off the counter and whipped it toward the kitchen door. Dave never saw it coming and it caught him right above the eye. He dropped to the floor like a hundred and sixty pounds of wet sand.

“
That’s enough of that,” I said, going back through the front door. “Collette, put it down!”

She turned toward me, grabbed a saltshaker off a table and threw it at my head. I ducked the missile, flipped a table on its side and dropped in behind it.

“
Collette, you’re under arrest!” I yelled.

“
You have the right to remain silent!” added Pete from under his table.

“
Ahhhrrrr,” howled Collette, and I saw a butcher-knife fly by the table.

“
She’s into the knives!” I called to Pete. “Stay down!”

“
No kidding!”

An iron frying pan whizzed across the restaurant and crashed through one of the front, plate-glass windows.

“
Dammit!” yelled Pete. “Collette! Quit it!”

Her answer was another carving knife, this one sticking an inch into the wall—an unlikely but startling result, and one due to luck rather than any knife-throwing skill. Still, it was disconcerting.

“
Don’t throw any more knives! I’ll shoot you, Collette. I swear I will,” I yelled. “I’ve got my gun out, and I’ll shoot you right in the leg!”

“
Me, too!” hollered Pete.

“
You don’t got no gun!” screeched Collette, sending one of Pete’s two toasters crashing into an empty booth. “Neither of you!”

After a long minute of howling and breaking glass, an eerie stillness fell over the Slab, and I ventured a look past the edge of the table. Collette had sunk to the floor—her rage finally spent—and sat amidst shards of glass, food and other debris, her face in her hands, silent sobs wracking her body. Meg, being outside and having a better view than either Pete or I did, came back in, walked past my upturned table and over to Collette. She put her arms around her and helped her to her feet.

“
C’mon, honey,” Meg said. “I know…”

I was about to say something, but a look from Meg closed my mouth. This was a look that I’d seen before. Pete crawled out from under his table, and we watched as Meg led a sobbing Collette out the front door and down the street.

“
You want me to go arrest her?” I asked.

“
No, I guess not,” said Pete, with a sigh. “Look at this place, though. I’ll have to close for a couple days just to clean up.”

“
Let’s check on Dave. He’s not moving.”

We kicked our way through the wreckage and over to the kitchen door. Dave let out a moan and opened one eye.

“
Is she gone yet?” he whispered.

“
Yeah, Corporal Snookie-Pie,” said Pete. “She’s gone. What did you tell her, anyway? She was as mad as a bag of weasels.”

Dave sat up, brushed pieces of glass from his hair and blinked his eyes like a toad in a hailstorm. “I told her the truth. That I couldn’t marry her. That I was in love with Nancy and that Chief Konig caught us…umm…”

“
In flagrante delicto
?” Pete said.

“
Yeah. That. In the dumpster behind the Baptist church.”

“
Why on earth did you tell her that?” I asked.

“
It was bound to come out,” Dave said. “I thought it would be better coming from me.”

“
Dave, think for a minute. Why was it bound to come out?”

“
You wouldn’t have told anyone? Not even Meg?”

“
Well, I might have told Meg. But she wouldn’t have told anyone. Except maybe her mother. And maybe…hmm…I see your point.”

“
Oh well,” said Dave, glumly. He rubbed a huge knot just above his right eye. “It’s out now.”

* * *

I left Pete to clean up. On the way back to the office, I went by Noylene’s and explained the situation to her. The Beautifery was having a slow day, and Noylene volunteered to go over to the Slab Café and help Pete.

“
I’d get Wormy to come with me, but he’s busy getting the cemetery ready.”

“
Ready for what?”

“
That racecar driver. He’s going to be buried in the Bellefontaine Cemetery.”

“
Junior Jameson?”

“
That’s the one,” Noylene said. “He’ll be the first one infirmed.”

“
Interred,” I gently corrected.

“
Right. Buried. That’s why he’s gettin’ a discount.”

“
This is on Saturday, right?”

“
Yeah. Saturday.”

I nodded and turned to leave. “Thanks for helping Pete. It’s a real mess over there.”

“
Oh, by the way,” said Noylene. “Junior’s bein’ buried in his car. They’ve hired a crane to lower him into the grave, racecar and all.”

“
You’re kidding!”

“
No, I’m not. And Wormy’s going to pipe in
Eternizak Country
and
Eternizak Gospel
through the car radio—at least for the first five years. That’s all they’ve paid for.”