Dancing with Murder

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Then there was Ellie, the youngest. She looked like an anorexic teen, all skin and bones and giant blue eyes so pale they were almost white. Those eyes peering out from her shag haircut with the spiky bangs looked perpetually challenging, always ready to go off.

  Which, actually, described her personality. All three of the Furies' personalities.

  Boy did they have capital "T" tempers. They were always, always fighting with each other, shifting alliances, holding grudges on top of grudges.

  But today, for once, they were united against a common object of resentment. Me, in other words. I had the honor of having brought them together in harmony. I could see it in their body language as they all clustered together and stared up at me through slitted eyes. I could feel it in the air, and I could guess what had brought it on.

  They were mad that I was the only sister called up on stage. It didn't matter that I didn't want to be there; I knew my sisters, and I knew this was eating them alive.

  It was just the latest in a series of injustices. First, I'd gone off to Los Angeles while they'd all stayed in town and given birth to the ADHD Dozen. Then, I'd gotten engaged, while the best they'd been able to manage was a string of deadbeat baby daddies. Now this.

  I knew I'd pay for it later, but I chose to ignore them for now. Basil Sloveski was waving a number ten white business envelope over his giant silver pompadour.

  "All right, folks!" The corners of Basil's eyes crinkled as he grinned. Up close, I could see his whole overtanned face was a web of fine lines. "Without further ado!"

  The crowd roared (except for the Furies, who just rolled their eyes) and pumped beers in the air. The ADHD Dozen squirmed their way up front and lined up along the stage, screeching and dancing like idiots.

  "How about a drum roll, guys?" When Basil said it, Eddie Sr.'s ancient drummer hopped up on the stage, raised his bony arms in a weight-lifter's pose with fists curled toward his shaggy white head, and dropped down on the squeaky red stool behind his drum kit.

  As the drum roll started, Basil slid a fingernail under the corner of the envelope flap, then dragged his nail along the length of the flap, tearing it open with a ripping sound.

  My heart pounded, and I held my breath. As badly as I didn't want to be there, I was actually caught up in the suspense. Polish Lou's showmanship had broken through even my tough exterior.

  The kids down in front couldn't stand the suspense either. They were hopping up and down, clawing at the stage, having conniptions. Milly spoke for all of them. "What? What's it say?"

  Basil slipped two tanned fingers into the envelope and drew out a folded sheet of paper. He cleared his throat as he unfolded it, playing up the drama.

  Then, he started reading. "Dear fellow polka lovers!" The drum roll continued in the background as Basil's voice rang over the crowd. "As you know, I've been called the Prince of Pennsylvania Polka."

  The crowd roared its approval.

  "But now that the Prince is dead, who will rule his kingdom?" Basil paused and looked around the banquet hall for dramatic effect. "Who will be my successor?"

  "Who? Who?" squeaked one of the kids down in front.

  "Who will carry on the tradition of great polka music as leader of my band, Polish Fly?" read Basil. "Who will continue to broadcast three hours of polkatacular tunetasticness every Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon on my radio show, Kocham Taniec?

  "Who will organize the annual Polkapourri festival that has become an institution for New Krakow and the entire tri-state area?

  "And who will manage Polish Lou Enterprises now that Polish Lou is gone?" Basil stopped reading aloud, though his eyes kept scanning the page. He got a funny look on his face, a kind of smirking frown, like he wasn't sure he'd read the letter correctly. Then he shrugged, nodded, and gazed out at the crowd. "I'll tell you who!

  "She will!" With that, Basil swung an arm around and pointed directly at Peg.

  The drum roll ended with a rim shot, and the crowd cheered like crazy. Eddie Sr. and Eddie Jr. played wild strains on their accordions. In front of the stage, the kids spun and jumped and gyrated like human popcorn in their little suits and dresses.

  Glancing at the Furies, I saw the three of them looked more thoroughly disgusted than ever. One thing they all had in common and shared with me was an undying hatred of Polish Peg.

  As for the Clown herself, she beamed and waved with pure delight. If I hadn't known any better, I might've thought she'd just won the Miss America pageant or an Academy Award.

  Clapping politely, I turned away and looked for the best place to step down from the stage. The crowd was slightly thinner by the corner, so maybe that would be a good exit point.

  Just as I took a step toward the corner, Basil called out behind me. "And she will, too!"

  I swear, everyone in the banquet hall gasped at once. Except me.

  "That's right!" said Basil. "I'm talking about you, Lottie!"

  At the mention of my name, I spun to face him. "Me, what?"

  "You're the co-queen of Lou's kingdom, that's what!" Basil lunged over and grabbed my arm, then hauled it high like I'd just won a prize fight. "Ladies and polkamen! Meet the new rulers of Polka Land! Lou's own daughter, Lottie..." Basil grabbed Peg's arm and hefted it overhead alongside mine. "...and his partner, the love of his life, Polish Peg!"

  The crowd went berserk. Cameras flashed in my eyes as Eddie Sr. and Eddie Jr. launched into "Hail to the Chief" on their accordions.

  Dazed, I leaned forward and looked past Basil at Peg. The look on her clownish face said it all.

  She was as surprised as I was. And just about as happy.

  Which, let me tell you, wasn't happy at all.

  *****

  Chapter 5

  Three hours later, the shock was still setting in. So was the unhappiness.

  Mom and Baba Tereska knew it, and they cut me some slack. The three of us sat outside that night, side by side on the squeaky glider on Baba's front porch. It was a perfect opportunity for the mother/grandmother tag team to nag me to the brink of insanity--but for once, no one hassled me about my poor choices or need for improvement. We were united by our mutual loathing of our common enemy.

  "I can't imagine dealing with that woman on a regular basis." Mom snorted and shook her head. She still wore her black dress from the funeral, though the veil was gone from her face. "It would be torture."

  "Worse than torture." Baba Tereska smacked my leg with her withered right hand. Her raspy voice crackled with raw hatred. "More like going to Hell for all eternity."

  Mom nodded and scowled. "Worse than Hell."

  I couldn't argue with them. "What was Dad thinking? Why on Earth would he put me and Peg in charge?"

  "Ask his mother over there." Mom leaned forward and gestured with her elbow at Baba Tereska. "Ask the woman who brought his sorry ass into the world."

  "At least I didn't marry him." Baba snickered and bumped me with her bony shoulder. "If anybody understands his twisted mind, it's the woman who helped twist it."

  I couldn't help smiling. Mom and Baba had an unconventional relationship; they were closer than most ex-wives and mothers-in-law I'd known. They also rode each other mercilessly, especially when it came to Polish Lou--but the abuse was always good-natured.

  "Maybe he was trying to be fair." Mom pushed the glider back and forth on its metal track, gazing up at the stars. "Instead of just leaving everything to Peg."

  "If he'd wanted to be fair, he wouldn't have left his wife and family for that floozy." Baba banged her knobby knee against my thigh.

  "Maybe he wanted to force us to accept her." Mom reached up and patted her dark brown hair, which was wrapped in a bun at the back. She'd started coloring it since the last time I'd visited, about a year ago.

  "Forget it." Baba jolted the glider to a stop. "He knew we'd never accept Miss Peggy." She laughed harshly, then started moving the glider back and forth again.

  "The heck with Peg." I fiddled with the black clutch
purse on my lap, wishing it were full of cigarettes. "What about me? Why would Dad pick me?"

  Baba Tereska gave me a funny look out of the corners of her icy blue eyes. "Maybe he thought you'd be good at it. Managing a business."

  "Like the nightclub you and Luke have in L.A.," said Mom.

  The mention of that place made my stomach knot up in my belly. There was a lot they didn't know about my club. A lot I didn't want to think about. "Since I live in L.A., how could Dad expect me to work with Peg back here?"

  Mom shrugged. "Maybe he was hoping you'd move back." Her voice trailed off; she'd been after me for years to give up L.A. and move back to New Krakow.

  "Well, that's not gonna happen." When Mom and Baba slid the glider forward again, I jumped off, leaving behind my clutch purse. I felt like I needed some breathing room.

  "But it won't be forever," said Mom. "The will stipulated one week."

  "One week too many." I muttered the words to myself.

  "It's just until Polkapourri," said Mom. "Then you can run off again if you want to."

  Standing at the top of the front steps, looking out at Baba's scrappy little yard in the moonlight, I sighed. When it came to using guilt as a weapon, Mom had no equal.

  She was right about the will, though. The "co-queen" arrangement wasn't designed to be permanent. Peg and I had to work together for one week, during the busiest time of year for Lou's polka empire. Just one week, till the 25th Annual Polkapourri Festival was over, at which time we could go our separate ways. At that point, if we chose, we could pick someone else to take our jobs and keep things rolling.

  Or we could cash in. We could liquidate the empire and split the proceeds fifty-fifty.

  That was an outcome that appealed to me in a big way. Except for the part about working with Polish Peg for a week.

  "I don't think I can do it." I said it over my shoulder without looking back at the women on the glider. "Even if I could stay in town for a week, I don't think I could take her for that long."

  "You can do anything you put your mind to," said Mom.

  "If we can go fifteen years without killing Miss Peggy," said Baba, "I think you can manage one week."

  Without thinking, I started chewing on my left thumbnail...then caught myself. It was a habit I'd fallen into since quitting smoking. Better to nibble a nail than light up a cigarette, right? Though I had to admit, both the spirit and flesh were weak that night; if someone had handed me a lit cigarette, I would've sucked it down to the filter in one breath right then and there.

  "I just don't understand." Turning, I leaned against the white wood pillar at the top of the steps and frowned at Mom and Baba. "Why did Dad pick me? Why not one of the other girls?" I was talking about the three Furies, who were all at Mom's place with the ADHD Dozen at that moment.

  "Why not you?" said Mom.

  Baba cackled. "He probably didn't trust any of those sorry specimens to handle it."

  "Hey!" Mom grabbed Baba's spindly shoulder. "Those are my daughters you're talking about."

  I started to nibble my thumbnail again, then pulled it away. "It's like he's punishing me for something."

  Suddenly, Mom and Baba both got up from the glider. As they closed in around me, I felt the Tag Team springing into action with their old school full-court press.

  "Who cares why he did it?" Baba grabbed my wrist and shook it. "You have an opportunity here, girlie."

  "A chance to set things right." Mom placed one hand flat against my chest, over my heart. "You can make things right for all of us."

  Baba let go of my wrist and reached up to pat the back of my head a little too hard. "There's nothing wrong with putting your family first sometimes, you know."

  "If you love them," said Mom.

  "The way you do." Baba scrubbed my scalp with her bony knuckles.

  I looked from one woman to the other, about ready to scream. The Tag Team's tactics hadn't changed much over the decades; they had a way of putting on the pressure till they got what they wanted. Though I was thirty-five years old, I felt more like ten.

  "I believe in you, honey." Mom smiled. "I know you can do it."

  "And you won't be alone, kochanie." Baba Tereska leaned in and planted a dry kiss on my cheek. "We'll be helping and advising you every step of the way."

  "How can you fail?" said Mom.

  "You can't possibly screw this up," said Baba.

  "It's a golden opportunity," said Mom.

  "Once in a lifetime," said Baba.

  Suddenly, I crossed the threshold of not being able to take any more. "Enough!" With an exasperated cry, I pushed away from both women, then spun and threw up my arms to keep them at bay. "What if I don't want to do this? What if my life has to come first this time? My life with Luke in L.A.?"

  "Like the will says." Baba shrugged and coughed. A lifetime of heavy smoking had left her with a permanent wet cough and the early stages of emphysema. "No one in New Krakow will get a thing. Not you, not the family, not even Miss Peggy. The lawyers will sell it all off and ship the proceeds to Polish orphanages."

  I let out a heavy sigh and slumped. I was so sick of dealing with the situation, I couldn't stand it.

  The more I thought about it, the more trapped I felt. Trapped because the family needed me...and also because Polish Lou's plan was the answer to my problems. As much as I hated the idea of working with Peg, how could I walk away from this chance?

  "I've got to go." Snatching up my black clutch purse from the glider, I unsnapped the catch and dug out my rent-a-car keys. "I'm totally exhausted."

  "Do you think we're done talking about your new job?" said Baba Tereska. "Have we talked some sense into you?"

  "Yes, we're done," I said. "And no, you haven't talked sense into me." With that, I marched to the top of the porch steps, which Mom and Baba were blocking. They stood their ground for a moment with arms folded and eyes narrowed.

  Then they parted to let me through. I hurried down the four cement steps to the front walk, already relieved to be clear of the Tag Team. For now.

  Halfway down the cracked, uneven walk, I turned and waved. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mom. I have to take care some things first. I'll try to call around lunchtime."

  "Don't worry about me, Lottie Leigh," said Mom. "You do what you have to."

  I felt a pang of guilt. Mom only trotted out my middle name when she was playing emotional hardball.

  Too bad I wasn't staying for extra innings. "Good night, Mom. Good night, Baba Tereska." Smiling, I turned and continued down the walk toward my rent-a-car, a red Hyundai four-door parked along the street.

  Baba called after me just as I stepped off the curb. "You'll do the right thing, kochanie! I know you will! Because who wants to be blamed for tearing apart a family?"

  "Don't listen to her, Lottie!" said Mom. "She should talk, after the way her son did a number on us!"

  "Good night, Mom!" I said. "Good night, Baba!" Then, I used the remote control to pop the locks on the rent-a-car, a red Hyundai Sonata.

  Mom and Baba were still squabbling when I got in the car, shut the door, and drove off into the New Krakow night.

  *****

  Chapter 6

  By the time I got to the DeeLite Efficiency Motel outside town, it was after midnight. I was so tired as I parked in front of my room and trudged inside that I didn't think I could stay up long enough to slip out of my clothes and brush my teeth.

  So I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the bedspread in my black dress and hose. Didn't brush, didn't take off my makeup, didn't order a wakeup call or turn off the lights. I just didn't have the energy.

  But as soon as my head hit the pillow, my mind started working at quantum speed. The day's events circled like vultures, and I couldn't look away.

  Was my dad really dead and buried? It didn't seem possible. Yet the weight of it burned in my gut, dragging me down with terrifying inevitability.

  I couldn't stop thinking about him. Memories of him when he was alive t
angled with memories of his body in the casket at the funeral home. Always, the people of New Krakow drifted through the background, sometimes grieving, sometimes grinning, sometimes dancing.

  Suddenly, my cell phone started beeping. Though I was wide awake, I almost didn't answer it. For one thing, it was all the way across the room in my clutch purse on top of the mini-fridge.

  For another thing, I had a pretty good idea who was calling. After all, it was just 9:30 on the West Coast, three hours behind Pennsylvania.

  I knew who it had to be, I knew what he was going to say, and I wasn't in the mood to hear it.

  I also knew he wouldn't give up, but I let it go to voice mail anyway. Sure enough, a few seconds after the phone emitted its voice mail "whoosh," it started ringing again.

  I thought about switching off the power for the night, but I knew the caller would just dial the front desk at the motel and have the night clerk patch him through on the land line in my room. He was persistent, which was one of the things I'd loved about him.

  At first, anyway.

  With a sigh, I dragged myself off the bed as the cell went to voice mail a second time. When it started a third ring cycle, I picked it up and opened the line with the press of a button.

  And there he was. My fiancé. "Lottie?"

  "Hello, Luke." I wasn't feeling enthusiastic about this call, and I didn't try to fake it. "Is everything all right?"

  "Sure, yeah." Luke was trying to sound laid back, but I knew better. I picked right up on the stressed out undercurrent; it had been there for months now. "How you holding up?"

  "Could use a cigarette, actually," I said. "Make that a carton of them."

  "Don't fall off the wagon, hon," said Luke. "You've got lots of good reasons not to smoke, remember."

  He was right. I thought of Baba Tereska's wet cough and the oxygen tank she sometimes used, and I nodded. "I remember."

  "Is everyone treating you okay?" Luke knew I'd been worried about facing the Furies, the Tag Team, and especially Polish Peg.