Dancing with Murder

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Six filing cabinets hulked at the edges of the office space, three at stage right and three at stage left. Each cabinet had at least one overstuffed drawer stuck open with sheafs of paper. The tops of the cabinets were stacked with record albums, t-shirts, posters, and/or boxes of junk that might or might not have been mementos.

  Even the floor was heaped with newspaper, garbage, and odds and ends. Extension cords were tangled everywhere. One of Lou's favorite old accordions--black with chrome trim and his signature embossed in gold above the keyboard--lay in a corner. In another corner, a ten-foot-long placard with "Polish Fly" in bold black letters and the band's insect mascot between the words stood on end, leaning against the wall.

  The place was a shambles, a complete mess...yet it felt a little like a museum to me. Like a monument to the father I'd once known, a man who was larger than life in his accomplishments and sloppiness alike.

  "Here we are, Lottie." Peg gave my arm a squeeze. "Home sweet home. Welcome to the nerve center."

  "Pardon our dust," Eddie said from behind us. "And our trash, and our avalanches waiting to happen."

  Peg let go of my arm and picked her way to the middle of the office area. "We've been busier than ever since Lou died. You wouldn't believe the gifts and condolences that have poured in over the last few days. Plus the offers to reissue his recordings."

  "Don't forget the movie deal," said Eddie.

  "A studio wants to option Lou's life story." Peg lifted a framed photo of Lou from one of the desks and smiled. "He's a bigger star than ever."

  "And on top all that, we've got to manage Polish Fly and organize Polkapourri 25." Eddie walked past me with hands clasped behind his back and gave me a look. "So if you ask me, there couldn't be a better time for you to come on board. We sure could use the help. There's only so much three people can do."

  Peg replaced the photo of Lou on the desk. "How are you with computers, Lottie?" She tipped her head to one side and peered at me through her Coke bottle magnifying lenses.

  "Computers like that one?" I pointed at the Stone Age desktop with the giant tower and monitor.

  Peg laughed. "Not exactly. Real computers. From this century."

  I shrugged. The truth was, I had a real flair for the information technology realm. In college, I'd studied recording, a field that required killer computer skills. I'd even worked in the music industry before meeting up with Luke and starting the club. But I didn't want to put all my cards on the table just yet. "I do all right when I have to."

  "Well, I've been planning to modernize." Peg grabbed a handful of overloaded files from one of the desks and shook them. "Go paperless. It's long overdue."

  "Okay." I kept my voice neutral. I wasn't quite sure where she was going with this.

  "It's a massive job, as you can see." Peg spread her arms and slowly turned in a circle, taking in the mountains of paperwork ranging over every surface. "Much, much more than we can do in one week. But maybe we can make a dent in it now that we've got help."

  "Sure." I looked over at Eddie, who was nudging the accordion on the floor with his toe. He glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. "I'll do what I can," I said, as much to him as to Peg.

  "This is on top of everything else, of course," said Peg. "And Polkapourri is always our number one priority. Think you can handle all that?"

  Her bossy comments made my hackles rise. She was using a take-charge attitude to try to keep me in my place...though in reality, I was now her equal at Polish Lou Enterprises.

  My impulse was to open fire with both barrels at that moment, but I caught myself. I was still on unfamiliar ground, in a difficult situation. Better for now to go with the flow and let her think she had nothing to worry about.

  "I can handle it." My weak smile probably wasn't very reassuring, but it was better than the full-on scowl trying to force its way through. "When do we start?"

  Peg grinned and clapped her hands together. "Now's as good a time as any. Where to begin...?" Chewing her lower lip, she drifted through the office space, running her eyes over the mountains of paper. "How about organizing last year's merchandising receipts?"

  "Glynne and I are almost done with that," said Eddie.

  "Let's see then." Peg circled the desks again, tapping some of the piles with a forefinger...then finally resting her hand on an overstuffed file wrapped crossways with thick rubber bands. "I know. The crank file."

  "Really?" Eddie grimaced. "How's that a priority?"

  "It's clutter. It's in the way." Peg picked up the folder and walked toward me. "Now that Lou's gone, we don't need most of it anymore."

  "Okay." I extended a hand. "What do you want me to do?"

  Peg gave me the folder. "Sort these letters and throw out all the ones made out to Lou. Keep the rest and log them in a spreadsheet on the new computer."

  "What new computer?" said Eddie.

  "The one we're buying at Mall-Mart while Lottie holds down the fort." Peg faced him squarely and planted her hands on her hips. "Got a problem with that, Kubiak?"

  Eddie grinned and smacked the ancient desktop computer's huge monitor. "I just can't believe we're putting The Paperweight out to pasture!"

  As the two of them talked, I pulled the rubber bands off the folder and skimmed some of the pages inside. It didn't take long to get the gist of the sheaf of typed and handwritten letters. "These are death threats!" I flipped through a few more, and the theme remained the same. "Death threats against my father!"

  "He was a celebrity," said Peg. "It's par for the course these days. Some of the threats were against me, too, or both of us together. People are crazy, huh?"

  I was amazed at how many letters were in the file...more amazed at how many people had wanted to kill my father. "Dad never said anything about this to me."

  "I'm sure he didn't want to worry you." Peg walked over and put her hand on my arm, stopping me from flipping through the letters. "Are you all right with this, Lottie? You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

  "No, no, I'm fine." I nodded briskly. "It's just kind of a shock, that's all."

  Peg's eyes, enlarged to giant size by her powerful polka dot glasses, locked on mine. She tipped her head to one side, and then her expression changed.

  For a moment, all the aggressive goofiness seemed to dissipate from her gaze like clouds burning away before the summer sun. A keener focus seemed to pierce the fog of her clownish persona. I swear, I felt an unexpectedly sharp intelligence trying to bore its way through my defenses.

  For the first time, I found myself wondering if Peg was smarter than she let on.

  "Well, sweetie, if you change your mind, let me know." Peg patted my arm gently, then pulled away her hand. "There's plenty of other work to do, believe you me."

  "I'll be fine, thanks." With that, I closed the folder and looked around for the best place to sit and review the letters.

  "Then Ed and I have some computer shopping to do." Peg swung an arm through the air, gesturing for Eddie to join her. "C'mon Ed. Let's go find Glynne and catch up to the 21st century."

  Eddie pretended to wipe away a tear. "I never thought I'd hear those words spoken around here." Then, he put his hand on the old computer's tower and gave it a shove. The tower toppled off the edge of the desk and crashed to the wooden floorboards below. "Whoops! Now what have I done?"

  I gaped at him, stunned. "Eddie?"

  Peg just chuckled. "There's a reason we call it The Paperweight, Lottie."

  "Because in the whole time we've had it," said Eddie, "we've never been able to get it to switch on."

  I looked at Peg, and she shrugged. "Lou picked it up second hand and thought he could fix it, even though he knew nothing about computers."

  I nodded. "That sounds like my dad, all right."

  "He was a wonderful man." Peg gave me one of those piercing looks again, but just for a second. "I miss him so."

  Out of nowhere, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn't stop one from rolling out and down
my cheek as she stared at me. "I do, too."

  Peg watched me for a moment, then coughed and headed for the stage curtain. "We'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

  I wiped away the tear. "I'll be here."

  "Later," said Eddie on his way past to follow Peg.

  "Later," I said, and then I found a seat and got to work.

  *****

  Chapter 12

  By the time Peg, Eddie, and Glynne got back, three hours later, I had sorted the crank file into two piles of letters. One, consisting of death threats aimed at Polish Peg, was less than a quarter of an inch high. The other, in which all the letters targeted Dad or Dad and Peg both, was over an inch and a half high.

  As for my mind, it was spinning with the residue of all those hateful letters. I felt dirty just thinking about them. So much ugliness over so many years from so many people, all aimed at a man who lived to entertain and loved his family and community with all his heart.

  And I'd never known about any of it. I'd never dreamed so much negativity had been pointed in Dad's direction.

  It was enough to put me in a foul mood by the time Peg came sweeping back into Polka Central. She showed me her purchase--a new laptop with all the bells and whistles, plus a printer/scanner/copier--but I couldn't fake being interested. I shrugged it off, showed her the sorted piles of letters, and asked her what she wanted me to do next.

  At which point Peg gave me another of those weird, piercing looks. She asked me if I'd had any problem with the crank file task.

  I didn't really want to show weakness, but I admitted it hadn't been much fun. Even though Dad was gone, it had been rough reading those vicious threats against him.

  "But it's done now." I nodded at the laptop in Peg's hands. "Want me to help set up the new computer?"

  "Actually," said Peg, "I want you to grab a bite with me. Are you hungry?"

  "Did someone mention lunch?" Eddie popped up beside her, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

  "Just Lottie and me today." Peg turned and headed for the gray curtain. "Just girl talk."

  "But I'm a good listener," said Eddie, "if a free lunch is involved."

  Peg shot him a stern look over her shoulder. "Call it boss talk, then, Ed."

  Eddie grinned and spread his arms wide. "I already know about everything that goes on here."

  Peg parted the gray curtain and paused before walking out. "How do you know we won't be talking about firing you, Ed?"

  Glynne cleared her throat. "Ever hear the expression 'quit while you're ahead,' Eddie baby?"

  "As a matter of fact, I have." Eddie waggled his eyebrows. "How 'bout if I stay here and help Glynne set up the laptop then?"

  Peg called back from beyond the curtain. "Sounds good, Ed. Are you coming, Lottie?"

  Eyes wide, I waved at Eddie and Glynne and scooted out after Peg, wondering what she wanted to talk about that we couldn't discuss in front of them.

  *****

  Chapter 13

  By the time Peg and I walked into Stush's Diner, the Sunday brunch rush was just starting to wind down. The place was still crowded but not packed, and we spotted a booth along the windows right away.

  I hadn't been to Stush's in a long time--years, probably--but it looked the same as I remembered. It was a diner straight out of the 50s, complete with lunch counter, chrome fixtures, red upholstery, and black-and-white checkerboard floors. There were Polish touches, too, like the framed photos of famous Poles and Polish-Americans on the walls, from Pope John Paul II and Lech Walesa to Zero Mostel and Bobby Vinton. Polish Lou's photo was right above the register, front and center; someone had wrapped a garland of red and yellow flowers around it.

  As we headed for our booth, every single person we passed said hello to both of us. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best, fresh from church, and they all waved or touched us or shook our hands.

  Part of me liked the attention, the familiarity. It was nothing like being in L.A., where I was almost always just another face in a great big crowd.

  But another part of me had to fight to keep the smile in place. Because I couldn't help wondering if any of those people might have written the anonymous death threat letters I'd just O.D.'d on at Polka Central.

  Then, it occurred to me: this must have been how my father felt every day of his life. Always knowing someone out there hated him enough to threaten his life. Always wondering who it might be.

  Peg and I sat down across from each other on the red vinyl-upholstered benches in the booth. The instant our butts hit the seats, gentle sad-eyed giant Stush Dudek--owner and chief cook at Stush's Diner--appeared alongside the table. "Lunch is on me, ladies." He wiped his giant hands on the white apron tied on over his black t-shirt and tan khaki pants. The logo on the chest of the t-shirt featured Polish Fly's insect mascot, with the letters R.I.P. underneath...and below that, "Rest In Polka."

  Peg reached beside her on the seat and lifted her red cloth sling purse with the white polka dots. "Thanks, Stan, but I told Lottie I'd buy. It's her first day on the job, y'know."

  "Congratulations, sweetie." Stush stuck out his hand. "Your dad would be proud."

  I reached out, and his enormous hand enfolded mine like a huge warm compress. "Thank you for saying that."

  "However." Stush let go and raised an index finger in the air. "Your money is no good here today. Either of you." With that, he turned and grabbed two menus from a table behind him, then slapped them down in front of us. "I'll be back to take your orders in a minute. Coffee's on the way."

  As big, sad Stush ambled away from our table, Peg smiled and fluttered her fingers. "I guess lunch is on the house then."

  I smiled back at her. "He sure told us, didn't he?"

  "Yes, he did." Peg's clown-wig afro bobbled as she nodded emphatically. Then, she clapped once and folded her hands on the table in front of her. "So what do you think so far? About the job?"

  I reached for one of the menus. "So far so good, I guess."

  Peg nodded and cleared her throat. "Good. Glad to hear it."

  Just then, Stush's giant hands lowered steaming white mugs full of black coffee to the table. "Figure out what you want yet, ladies?" His sad brown St. Bernard eyes gazed down at us.

  "The usual please, Stush." Peg hadn't even opened the menu.

  Stush leaned his willow tree body in my direction. "What about you, sweetie?"

  "I don't know." I stared at the menu pages in the clear plastic folder, but nothing jumped out at me. I didn't seem to be hungry for anything in particular.

  "Tell you what." Stush reached down and closed the menu in front of me. "I'll bring your favorite--halupki. How's that sound?"

  I felt instantly relieved. "Sounds great, Uncle Stush."

  "Trust me, sweetie." Stush gave me a wink. "You won't be sorry. And we've got incredible paska and poppyseed kolaches for dessert." He shook his head sadly. "I can't enjoy them, with my diabetes and all, but I guarantee they'll knock your socks off, hon."

  As he loped off toward the kitchen, Peg hauled her polka-dot purse off the bench and plopped it down on the table. "I need to talk to you about something, Lottie." She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. "About the crank file."

  I frowned. "What about it?"

  Peg leaned even closer, dropped her voice even lower. "It wasn't complete."

  I wondered where she was going with this. "How so?"

  "Something was missing." Peg fished through her purse and came up with a double-folded piece of paper. "This was missing."

  She handed me the paper, and I unfolded it. Inside was a brief typed note.

  "CAN'T YOU KEEP A SECRET, LOU?" That was the first line. "I THOUGHT WE HAD AN UNDERSTANDING!"

  It was pretty cryptic stuff, but the next line was the one that made me shiver: "LEAVE ME ALONE OR YOU'LL BE SORRY...PERMANENTLY!"

  For a long moment, I just stared at the creased note. It was such a small thing, just a few lines typed on a piece of white paper...yet it was full of ominous p
ower.

  When the initial shock wore off, I tore my gaze from the sinister words and looked at Peg. She was watching me with owl-eyed intensity, as if she expected my skin to turn purple and sprout mushrooms at any moment.

  "Why wasn't this in the crank file?" So many questions came to me, but this was the first one I felt compelled to ask.

  "Because," said Peg. "It arrived six days ago."

  It only took me a moment to do the math. "The day before Dad died."

  Peg nodded. In spite of her clownish 'fro and googly glasses, she looked fiercely grim. "Tell me something. You read every letter in the crank file, right?"

  "Yes," I told her.

  Peg took the letter from my hands and shook it. "Did any of them look like this? Did any of them read like this?"

  I thought for a moment, then shook my head. "So what? Dad got lots of threatening letters from lots of people."

  "But he only got one the day before he died." Peg laid the letter down flat on the table between us. "This one. One of a kind."

  I frowned at my coffee, which was no longer steaming. "Whoever wrote it missed their chance, if they were planning to do something."

  Peg trained a piercing stare on me. "Did they?"

  Just then, Stush ambled up to the table with a tray of food. "Prepare to be dazzled, ladies. I've got just what you need right here."

  No sooner had Peg snatched the letter off the table than Stush started plunking down plates. Peg's "usual" turned out to be a quartered tomato stuffed with tuna salad on a bed of lettuce. My lunch, on the other hand, was a fragrant heaping helping of my favorite Polish dish, halupki.

  My mind was elsewhere, focused on Peg's cryptic comments about the letter, but the hot food still made my stomach growl. The halupki, or pigs in the blanket, looked delicious--ground beef and rice filling rolled in cabbage leaves, stewed in tomato sauce. The steaming food was like a meal straight off the dinner table from my childhood.