THE INCIDENT AT THE VERBAL BAR

It began quietly enough. A few customers were scattered around the Verbal Bar and Grill, nursing wine or beer at the bar, nibbling on sandwiches at two or three tables. All enjoyed the atmosphere. Jerry had updated the place recently, changing all the scattered faxes and author pictures. He had put up a bulletin board and tacked book jackets of authors that haunted the place. Front pages of local newspapers on historic occasions were the wallpaper.

That evening, the sun was close to setting, and people were either hurrying home or meandering down the street perusing shop windows. Most customers in the grill worked nearby in one of the publishing houses or the paper a block away.

Then it happened.

A flamboyant couple flashed in. He wore a 20’s “zoot suit” in bright yellow and outrageous lapels. She was partially clothed in a bright red dress that covered less than a one piece bathing suit. They both wore tap shoes. They leaped into the room singing and began to dance.

Flash mob?

No one joined them. Flash duo?

I heard about it later than night.

I had no date that Friday evening, so I was looking for food and maybe a friendly face or two. Jerry came over and sat down opposite me, calling the waitress over as he did so. I ordered the strong dark roast coffee that was a specialty of the place and a hot beef sandwich.

“What’s happening, Jerry?”

He told me about the tap duo.

“How did it end?”

“How does any dance end? They did a flourish and a couple of guys clapped a little. Then they put their arms around each other and sort of danced out down the street. “

“People get happy.”

“They do.”

About that time Elmo the cop strode in brandishing his night stick at his side in all the glory of a patrolman on the beat. He marched over to our table and faced Jerry.

“What’s this I hear about Solomon and Sheba dancing through here?”

“Solomon and Sheba?” I interjected. “Like from the Bible? King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba?”- Elmo just looked at me. He had no clue.

“I don’t know about that. I just know we have two well dressed drifters wandering up and down the street doing some kind of stupid act..”

“So they’ve been elsewhere.”

“Oh, lots of places. Every joint from here to 10^th Street. Don’t seem to want anything. They don’t beg or explain. Just do their act and go on to the next place.”

“Seems harmless.”

“Yeah, but it’s spooky. Jerry, is anything missing? You missing anything from the cash register? Maybe somebody sneaks in during the distraction.”

“I’ll go look.”

He came back shaking his head. “I can’t be sure. We already banked the breakfast and lunch proceeds, so there wasn’t much cash in the drawer. If someone went into it, they couldn’t have taken more than ten or twenty dollars. Now, after seven tonight, they might take fifty or a hundred if we have a good take. We don’t count it up til we close, so we might not notice if the amount is small enough.”

“So if they did the same thing at eight or ten places…”

“Maybe with increasing steals, they could take in…five hundred?”

“What do you think, Shamus?” asked Elmo.

“Not a shamus or cop anymore. I’m specialized in grammar investigations. GI, not PI.”

“But it’s the Verbal Bar.”

“Yeah, and it’s my favorite watering hole. Maybe I’ll interview some people down the street if I can say the cops asked me to.”

Elmo stared at me. “I can’t help what anybody says and I can’t help what the other person believes. But if you turn up anything and keep it from me, I CAN run you in for obstructing an investigation.”

                                    ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

I walked down the street to the next joint, Harry’s. I’d never been there before, but the décor was modestly upscale like most of the neighborhood. No theme here, just a bar and grill. Like the Verbal at this time of day, a few people were leaning on the bar or at the tables with sandwiches. Tall thin guy at the counter.

“You Harry?”

“There is no Harry. I’m Alphonse and don’t laugh.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. Got coffee made?”

“Oh yeah. Pretty strong though.”

“Is there any other kind? Bring me a cup.”

The off white mug was big, and the coffee was good.”

“Good stuff, Alphonse. Got a question for you. Did a flashy couple come

dancing through here earlier tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. Literally waltzed in and looked like they were having fun. Didn’t order anything or ask for tips. Just whirled around a few minutes and were gone.”

“Where were you while this was going on?”

“I was standing over by that back table serving hamburgers and beer.”

“Could you see the register from there?

“Sure.”

“Could anyone have sneaked up there in all the commotion and slipped out a few bucks?”

“Don’t think so. I don’t like anyone getting behind my counter.”

“I was just in the Verbal talking to a cop. He wanted me to check out a few placed and see if anyone was missing any dough. Like maybe the two created a distraction while someone came in through the back and picked the till.”

“I’ll check, but there’s no way anyone could sneak in the back. The door is locked on the outside, and my cocker, Chuck, sleeps his life away except when someone comes into the kitchen. Then he sounds like he’s a real tiger.”

Alph walked to the register and rang it open.

“Nah. It looks ok to me.”

“Thanks a lot. Really good coffee. I’ll be back.”

Up and down the street I collected the same story. Maybe it was just a happy dancing couple.

                                      *** *** *** *** ***

I got to the Verbal the next night earlier than usual. I was nursing a cup of coffee and making some notes about a case. Then the dancing couple came in.

They burst through the door dancing and singing. I could just make out the lyrics:

“We want to happily dance,

We want to merrily sing.

Happily and merrily we want to vociferously sing and dance.

To vociferously sing!

Their dress was as wild as their dance and song. A fire engine red suit, yellow shirt, and red, yellow, and blue tie on the guy was matched by the gal’s bright patchwork in primary colors and swirling skirts. They exuded energy, enthusiasm, and deliberate elocution.

A weird idea began to tickle the back of my mind. Could it be? After all this WAS the Verbal Bar and Grill. Hmmm.

I rose from the table and blocked their path to the door.

“Solomon! Sheba” I pronounced loudly.

“Who are you?” Solomon asked.

“How do you know us?” added Sheba.

“Are you two English teachers in your day jobs?”

They looked at me, mouths actually agape. They looked at each other. Sheba giggled. “He knows.” Solomon laughted. They both laughed so hard they bent over double.

“You were scaring everybody silly. They thought you were running a scam to distract people while someone robbed the register.”

They looked at each other and at me. “No way!”

“Way. And you were only making a silly political statement.”

“You got that did you.”

“I got that. You hate split infinitives!”

“We do. And when someone figures it out – as you just did – the news will spread, and our point will be made. If you know a reporter, it could even get in the paper!”

I shrugged. “I see a reporter now and then, and you’re right. It might make a good story. Meanwhile, why don’t you just try out for Dancing With the Stars?”

THE INCIDENT AT THE VERBAL BAR

It began quietly enough. A few customers were scattered around the Verbal Bar and Grill, nursing wine or beer at the bar, nibbling on sandwiches at two or three tables. All enjoyed the atmosphere. Jerry had updated the place recently, changing all the scattered faxes and author pictures. He had put up a bulletin board and tacked book jackets of authors that haunted the place. Front pages of local newspapers on historic occasions were the wallpaper.

That evening, the sun was close to setting, and people were either hurrying home or meandering down the street perusing shop windows. Most customers in the grill worked nearby in one of the publishing houses or the paper a block away.

Then it happened.

A flamboyant couple flashed in. He wore a 20’s “zoot suit” in bright yellow and outrageous lapels. She was partially clothed in a bright red dress that covered less than a one piece bathing suit. They both wore tap shoes. They leaped into the room singing and began to dance.

Flash mob?

No one joined them. Flash duo?

I heard about it later than night.

I had no date that Friday evening, so I was looking for food and maybe a friendly face or two. Jerry came over and sat down opposite me, calling the waitress over as he did so. I ordered the strong dark roast coffee that was a specialty of the place and a hot beef sandwich.

“What’s happening, Jerry?”

He told me about the tap duo.

“How did it end?”

“How does any dance end? They did a flourish and a couple of guys clapped a little. Then they put their arms around each other and sort of danced out down the street. “

“People get happy.”

“They do.”

About that time Elmo the cop strode in brandishing his night stick at his side in all the glory of a patrolman on the beat. He marched over to our table and faced Jerry.

“What’s this I hear about Solomon and Sheba dancing through here?”

“Solomon and Sheba?” I interjected. “Like from the Bible? King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba?”- Elmo just looked at me. He had no clue.

“I don’t know about that. I just know we have two well dressed drifters wandering up and down the street doing some kind of stupid act..”

“So they’ve been elsewhere.”

“Oh, lots of places. Every joint from here to 10^th Street. Don’t seem to want anything. They don’t beg or explain. Just do their act and go on to the next place.”

“Seems harmless.”

“Yeah, but it’s spooky. Jerry, is anything missing? You missing anything from the cash register? Maybe somebody sneaks in during the distraction.”

“I’ll go look.”

He came back shaking his head. “I can’t be sure. We already banked the breakfast and lunch proceeds, so there wasn’t much cash in the drawer. If someone went into it, they couldn’t have taken more than ten or twenty dollars. Now, after seven tonight, they might take fifty or a hundred if we have a good take. We don’t count it up til we close, so we might not notice if the amount is small enough.”

“So if they did the same thing at eight or ten places…”

“Maybe with increasing steals, they could take in…five hundred?”

“What do you think, Shamus?” asked Elmo.

“Not a shamus or cop anymore. I’m specialized in grammar investigations. GI, not PI.”

“But it’s the Verbal Bar.”

“Yeah, and it’s my favorite watering hole. Maybe I’ll interview some people down the street if I can say the cops asked me to.”

Elmo stared at me. “I can’t help what anybody says and I can’t help what the other person believes. But if you turn up anything and keep it from me, I CAN run you in for obstructing an investigation.”

                                    ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

I walked down the street to the next joint, Harry’s. I’d never been there before, but the décor was modestly upscale like most of the neighborhood. No theme here, just a bar and grill. Like the Verbal at this time of day, a few people were leaning on the bar or at the tables with sandwiches. Tall thin guy at the counter.

“You Harry?”

“There is no Harry. I’m Alphonse and don’t laugh.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. Got coffee made?”

“Oh yeah. Pretty strong though.”

“Is there any other kind? Bring me a cup.”

The off white mug was big, and the coffee was good.”

“Good stuff, Alphonse. Got a question for you. Did a flashy couple come

dancing through here earlier tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. Literally waltzed in and looked like they were having fun. Didn’t order anything or ask for tips. Just whirled around a few minutes and were gone.”

“Where were you while this was going on?”

“I was standing over by that back table serving hamburgers and beer.”

“Could you see the register from there?

“Sure.”

“Could anyone have sneaked up there in all the commotion and slipped out a few bucks?”

“Don’t think so. I don’t like anyone getting behind my counter.”

“I was just in the Verbal talking to a cop. He wanted me to check out a few placed and see if anyone was missing any dough. Like maybe the two created a distraction while someone came in through the back and picked the till.”

“I’ll check, but there’s no way anyone could sneak in the back. The door is locked on the outside, and my cocker, Chuck, sleeps his life away except when someone comes into the kitchen. Then he sounds like he’s a real tiger.”

Alph walked to the register and rang it open.

“Nah. It looks ok to me.”

“Thanks a lot. Really good coffee. I’ll be back.”

Up and down the street I collected the same story. Maybe it was just a happy dancing couple.

                                      *** *** *** *** ***

I got to the Verbal the next night earlier than usual. I was nursing a cup of coffee and making some notes about a case. Then the dancing couple came in.

They burst through the door dancing and singing. I could just make out the lyrics:

“We want to happily dance,

We want to merrily sing.

Happily and merrily we want to vociferously sing and dance.

To vociferously sing!

Their dress was as wild as their dance and song. A fire engine red suit, yellow shirt, and red, yellow, and blue tie on the guy was matched by the gal’s bright patchwork in primary colors and swirling skirts. They exuded energy, enthusiasm, and deliberate elocution.

A weird idea began to tickle the back of my mind. Could it be? After all this WAS the Verbal Bar and Grill. Hmmm.

I rose from the table and blocked their path to the door.

“Solomon! Sheba” I pronounced loudly.

“Who are you?” Solomon asked.

“How do you know us?” added Sheba.

“Are you two English teachers in your day jobs?”

They looked at me, mouths actually agape. They looked at each other. Sheba giggled. “He knows.” Solomon laughted. They both laughed so hard they bent over double.

“You were scaring everybody silly. They thought you were running a scam to distract people while someone robbed the register.”

They looked at each other and at me. “No way!”

“Way. And you were only making a silly political statement.”

“You got that did you.”

“I got that. You hate split infinitives!”

“We do. And when someone figures it out – as you just did – the news will spread, and our point will be made. If you know a reporter, it could even get in the paper!”

I shrugged. “I see a reporter now and then, and you’re right. It might make a good story. Meanwhile, why don’t you just try out for Dancing With the Stars?”

THE INCIDENT AT THE VERBAL BAR

It began quietly enough. A few customers were scattered around the Verbal Bar and Grill, nursing wine or beer at the bar, nibbling on sandwiches at two or three tables. All enjoyed the atmosphere. Jerry had updated the place recently, changing all the scattered faxes and author pictures. He had put up a bulletin board and tacked book jackets of authors that haunted the place. Front pages of local newspapers on historic occasions were the wallpaper.

That evening, the sun was close to setting, and people were either hurrying home or meandering down the street perusing shop windows. Most customers in the grill worked nearby in one of the publishing houses or the paper a block away.

Then it happened.

A flamboyant couple flashed in. He wore a 20’s “zoot suit” in bright yellow and outrageous lapels. She was partially clothed in a bright red dress that covered less than a one piece bathing suit. They both wore tap shoes. They leaped into the room singing and began to dance.

Flash mob?

No one joined them. Flash duo?

I heard about it later than night.

I had no date that Friday evening, so I was looking for food and maybe a friendly face or two. Jerry came over and sat down opposite me, calling the waitress over as he did so. I ordered the strong dark roast coffee that was a specialty of the place and a hot beef sandwich.

“What’s happening, Jerry?”

He told me about the tap duo.

“How did it end?”

“How does any dance end? They did a flourish and a couple of guys clapped a little. Then they put their arms around each other and sort of danced out down the street. “

“People get happy.”

“They do.”

About that time Elmo the cop strode in brandishing his night stick at his side in all the glory of a patrolman on the beat. He marched over to our table and faced Jerry.

“What’s this I hear about Solomon and Sheba dancing through here?”

“Solomon and Sheba?” I interjected. “Like from the Bible? King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba?”- Elmo just looked at me. He had no clue.

“I don’t know about that. I just know we have two well dressed drifters wandering up and down the street doing some kind of stupid act..”

“So they’ve been elsewhere.”

“Oh, lots of places. Every joint from here to 10^th Street. Don’t seem to want anything. They don’t beg or explain. Just do their act and go on to the next place.”

“Seems harmless.”

“Yeah, but it’s spooky. Jerry, is anything missing? You missing anything from the cash register? Maybe somebody sneaks in during the distraction.”

“I’ll go look.”

He came back shaking his head. “I can’t be sure. We already banked the breakfast and lunch proceeds, so there wasn’t much cash in the drawer. If someone went into it, they couldn’t have taken more than ten or twenty dollars. Now, after seven tonight, they might take fifty or a hundred if we have a good take. We don’t count it up til we close, so we might not notice if the amount is small enough.”

“So if they did the same thing at eight or ten places…”

“Maybe with increasing steals, they could take in…five hundred?”

“What do you think, Shamus?” asked Elmo.

“Not a shamus or cop anymore. I’m specialized in grammar investigations. GI, not PI.”

“But it’s the Verbal Bar.”

“Yeah, and it’s my favorite watering hole. Maybe I’ll interview some people down the street if I can say the cops asked me to.”

Elmo stared at me. “I can’t help what anybody says and I can’t help what the other person believes. But if you turn up anything and keep it from me, I CAN run you in for obstructing an investigation.”

                                    ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

I walked down the street to the next joint, Harry’s. I’d never been there before, but the décor was modestly upscale like most of the neighborhood. No theme here, just a bar and grill. Like the Verbal at this time of day, a few people were leaning on the bar or at the tables with sandwiches. Tall thin guy at the counter.

“You Harry?”

“There is no Harry. I’m Alphonse and don’t laugh.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. Got coffee made?”

“Oh yeah. Pretty strong though.”

“Is there any other kind? Bring me a cup.”

The off white mug was big, and the coffee was good.”

“Good stuff, Alphonse. Got a question for you. Did a flashy couple come

dancing through here earlier tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. Literally waltzed in and looked like they were having fun. Didn’t order anything or ask for tips. Just whirled around a few minutes and were gone.”

“Where were you while this was going on?”

“I was standing over by that back table serving hamburgers and beer.”

“Could you see the register from there?

“Sure.”

“Could anyone have sneaked up there in all the commotion and slipped out a few bucks?”

“Don’t think so. I don’t like anyone getting behind my counter.”

“I was just in the Verbal talking to a cop. He wanted me to check out a few placed and see if anyone was missing any dough. Like maybe the two created a distraction while someone came in through the back and picked the till.”

“I’ll check, but there’s no way anyone could sneak in the back. The door is locked on the outside, and my cocker, Chuck, sleeps his life away except when someone comes into the kitchen. Then he sounds like he’s a real tiger.”

Alph walked to the register and rang it open.

“Nah. It looks ok to me.”

“Thanks a lot. Really good coffee. I’ll be back.”

Up and down the street I collected the same story. Maybe it was just a happy dancing couple.

                                      *** *** *** *** ***

I got to the Verbal the next night earlier than usual. I was nursing a cup of coffee and making some notes about a case. Then the dancing couple came in.

They burst through the door dancing and singing. I could just make out the lyrics:

“We want to happily dance,

We want to merrily sing.

Happily and merrily we want to vociferously sing and dance.

To vociferously sing!

Their dress was as wild as their dance and song. A fire engine red suit, yellow shirt, and red, yellow, and blue tie on the guy was matched by the gal’s bright patchwork in primary colors and swirling skirts. They exuded energy, enthusiasm, and deliberate elocution.

A weird idea began to tickle the back of my mind. Could it be? After all this WAS the Verbal Bar and Grill. Hmmm.

I rose from the table and blocked their path to the door.

“Solomon! Sheba” I pronounced loudly.

“Who are you?” Solomon asked.

“How do you know us?” added Sheba.

“Are you two English teachers in your day jobs?”

They looked at me, mouths actually agape. They looked at each other. Sheba giggled. “He knows.” Solomon laughted. They both laughed so hard they bent over double.

“You were scaring everybody silly. They thought you were running a scam to distract people while someone robbed the register.”

They looked at each other and at me. “No way!”

“Way. And you were only making a silly political statement.”

“You got that did you.”

“I got that. You hate split infinitives!”

“We do. And when someone figures it out – as you just did – the news will spread, and our point will be made. If you know a reporter, it could even get in the paper!”

I shrugged. “I see a reporter now and then, and you’re right. It might make a good story. Meanwhile, why don’t you just try out for Dancing With the Stars?”