Dancing with Murder

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Until that moment, I hadn't even realized he knew I was there. I stood silently as all eyes in the room turned to fix on me, staring with intense expectation.

  I wasn't sure what to say. I looked at Peg, then Father Speedy, then Nunzio, then Peg. "There's another festival?"

  Nunzio cupped his hands behind his ears and squinted. "What was that? What did she say?"

  Father Speedy ignored him and spoke directly to me. He looked more radiantly self-assured than ever. "We're just meeting a need in the community." He nodded warmly. "People can't imagine there not being a polka fest in this town, bringing them together for true fellowship in the spirit of Christ. We're going to help them make it a reality."

  "One, two, three, four!" Uncle Dupa thrust his hand overhead and counted out the numbers on his fingers. "Polkagasm will make 'em scream for more!"

  The crowd cheered and clapped. Father Speedy just glared at Dupa, looking annoyed.

  "Wait a minute!" Peg raised her voice above the ruckus. "How can you expect us to have a successful festival when you're stealing our headline act?"

  "Polish Fly isn't your act." Uncle Dupa puffed out his chest. "I'm leading the band now. They're coming with me."

  Peg planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. "That's Lou's band. Just because you're his brother, that doesn't give you a claim to it."

  Uncle Dupa pulled a cigar from his vest pocket and stuffed it between his crooked teeth. "That's not what these fellas say. They're with me, aren't ya, fellas?"

  The crowd cheered again. Peg looked at them and shook her head disappointedly. "You can have the musicians, though I hate to see them go. I can't force them to stay. But the name Polish Fly is a trademark of Polish Lou Enterprises. And you can't have that."

  Uncle Dupa's cigar drooped in his mouth. He spun and looked straight at Basil.

  Basil smoothed his tailor-made red-pinstriped black suit and shrugged. "I'll have to look into it."

  "You do that." Peg's voice was a growl.

  Suddenly, I felt the phone vibrating in my pocket. I slid it out and looked at the screen. The incoming call was from Luke. Of course he'd waited till now to get back to me.

  I was about to make a beeline for the exit when Father Speedy called my name. "Lottie. I have a question for you before we go any farther."

  I stood there, phone in hand, torn between taking the call or answering Father Speedy. The phone vibrated again...but I couldn't just walk away now that Speedy had called for me. I was in the middle of a mess of my own making, and I had to deal with it. Luke would have to wait a little longer. "Yes, Father?"

  Father Speedy walked toward me, smiling serenely. "Is there anything you want to tell us? Has anything changed since you and I last spoke?"

  My personal red alert was whooping like crazy. Whatever he had in mind for me, it wouldn't be good. "Like what?"

  Father Speedy shrugged. "The terms of your deal with Valhalla, perhaps? Are they still to your liking?"

  What was he getting at? "Why do you ask?"

  Father Speedy stopped three feet away and met my gaze with his dark brown eyes. "There may be an opportunity for a...joint venture, if you're interested. A merger of Polkapourri and--Polkagasm--for the benefit of all involved."

  Suddenly, I understood. This was what Father Speedy had been building toward all along. "Polkagasm" was nothing but a bargaining tool, a way for him to call my bluff. It was also a way for me to save Polkapourri without admitting to the bluff. All I had to do was agree to join our original polka festival with his fake one, no doubt paying Father Speedy the higher percentage of the take he'd been demanding.

  I decided to test my theory. "You're talking about a combined event? With the lower rate we discussed for St. Casimir's?"

  Father Speedy pursed his lips and shook his head. "St. Casimir's would collect a higher rate. After all, we would be the home site of the event. Polkapourri left New Krakow. We didn't."

  Theory confirmed. The higher rate was still at the top of his wish list. All of this--the substitute festival, the takeover of Polish Fly, the gathering of local bigwigs--was designed solely to get us to cough up the extra money. If I was bluffing about moving to Valhalla, he was letting me know he held all the big cards, and he was offering me a way out. If I wasn't bluffing about Valhalla, maybe I'd chicken out and cancel the move after losing our headline performers. Either way, Father Speedy would win.

  Unless I kept up the bluff. Maybe I could still get him to fold.

  But did I have the guts, with Polkapourri set to begin in three days? Wouldn't it make more sense to take the easy way out and give him what he wanted? Didn't I have more important things to deal with right now, like finding Dad's killer?

  "Well?" Father Speedy leaned forward, hands folded behind his back. "What'll it be?"

  Suddenly, a harsh glare washed over us. Turning, I saw the cameraman and reporter from the WNKK truck approaching from the direction of the front door. The cameraman was pointing his video camera right at us, illuminating us with a single spotlight mounted above the lens.

  So now I was really in the fire. Whatever I said next would be recorded and could be used against me. Father Speedy sure knew how to put on the pressure.

  I took a deep breath and turned back to meet his stare. My mind raced, and the hairs on the back of my neck rippled to attention. We were in the middle of a Mexican standoff, waiting to see which one of us would blink.

  Could there be a more perfect time for my phone to ring? It vibrated in my hand, and when I glanced at the screen, I saw it was Luke again. I'd been trying in vain for so long to reach him, and now he'd called me twice in the last few minutes.

  It was time to wrap this up.

  The options aligned in my head, complete with pros and cons. I was still torn between them, uncertain which one to pick. I didn't know what I was going to say next.

  Until the words flew out of my mouth. "My father is spinning in his grave right now. And it's all because of you."

  I pointed at Father Speedy, then did the same for Uncle Dupa, Nunzio Caputo, and Basil Sloveski. "Because of you, and you, and you, too."

  Father Speedy looked shocked, as if I'd caught him completely off guard. The other three were also dumbfounded.

  "Shame on you." I glared at the crowd of musicians. "Shame on all of you."

  "What?" said Nunzio. "What did she say?"

  I ignored him. "It's been less than a week since we buried Polish Lou, and you're already tearing apart his legacy." The glare from the camera grew brighter as the cameraman moved closer, which was fine by me. He was the only one in the room who mattered at that moment. "You vultures."

  "You better watch your mouth, girl!" shouted Uncle Dupa.

  I ignored him, too. "How dare you drive us out of New Krakow and stage your own polka festival! And you call yourselves my father's friends and family?"

  Father Speedy's eyes darted from me to the camera and back again. Grandstander that he was, he was fully conscious that the scene was being recorded. I could almost see the gears turning as he tried to think of a way to take back control.

  Uncle Dupa, on the other hand, was seemingly oblivious to the media. He charged over, gut jittering under his leather vest, face twisted in a furious glare. "You're a liar! You're the one who's moving Polkapourri out of town!"

  Without a word, Father Speedy caught and held him back with a hand on his chest. Uncle Dupa ended up looking like the crazy one who had to be restrained.

  And I looked like the calm and honest one, though Dupa was absolutely right about me being a liar. "Don't even try to put this on me!" I shook my head, trying to look as self-righteous as possible. "Haven't you done enough already, spitting on my father's grave--your own brother's grave--and betraying the polka-loving people of this town on the 25th anniversary of Polkapourri?"

  Nunzio, who'd been working his way over, pushed himself between Speedy and Dupa to scowl at me. "That's on your shoulders, young lady. You're the one who said Polkapourri i
s moving to Valhalla."

  I tipped my head back and glared at him coldly. "Do not put words in my mouth to cover your own lies."

  "This is rich!" Nunzio's face was flushed, his upper lip curled in a snarl. "You're going to stand there and deny you've made a deal to move Polkapourri to Valhalla?"

  "That's right." I folded my arms over my chest. "Call Valhalla. They'll tell you the same thing. We've never even discussed it."

  Nunzio and Dupa looked like they wanted to strangle me. Father Speedy, on the other hand, looked amused. There was a twinkle in his eye and a trace of a smirk on his lips. Now that my cards were on the table, I got the feeling he was enjoying himself.

  "How can you people live with yourselves?" I spun to face the crowd of musicians, and the camera followed. "After everything Lou did for you, everything he did for this community, how can you destroy his signature event?"

  Most of the men in the crowd looked down or away and shuffled their feet. Some shifted position, trying to hide from the camera by ducking behind their neighbors.

  "And you." I whipped around and glared at Father Speedy. "Taking advantage of Lou's widow and daughter. Demanding a bigger share of the proceeds--which we are donating to the new Polish Lou Foundation for Polish orphans--then trying to shut down Polkapourri when we wouldn't give you what you wanted." I shook my head and clucked my tongue. "And you call yourself a man of the cloth."

  Father Speedy's eyes widened, but the smirk remained.

  The phone in my hand vibrated again. How many times was Luke going to call, anyway?

  It was time to wrap things up. I needed to find out what was happening on the West Coast.

  "Get out of here, all of you!" I pointed in the direction of the door. "This is private property! This is Lou's property!"

  The musicians started streaming out the door. None of them said a word.

  "You, too!" I waved at Father Speedy, Nunzio, and Uncle Dupa. "Get out with the rest of the trash!"

  Nunzio and Dupa looked like they were ready to charge me. I could just about see the steam hissing out of their ears.

  But Father Speedy put an arm around both and led them toward the door. On his way past, he leaned back and gave me a wink, as if to say, "Well played."

  Just then, the TV reporter and cameraman rushed toward me. The reporter looked wild-eyed with excitement; I'd just given her a big story. "Big" for New Krakow, anyway.

  "Miss Kachowski! Lottie!" She pushed a microphone at my face as the cameraman shot over her shoulder. "What about the festival? Will there be a Polkapourri this year?"

  "Are you kidding?" I smiled for the camera. "Not only will there be a Polkapourri, but it will be the best Polkapourri ever."

  "What do you have to say about Polkagasm?"

  "Sorry." I shook my head and shrugged. "I can't say it in polite company."

  *****

  Chapter 33

  When Polka Central had emptied out, I brought up my phone and checked the missed calls. There were three, all from Luke. But he hadn't left a single message in my voice mail.

  I was just about to dial his number when Peg marched toward me. Her posture was stiff, and she had a grim look on her face. I thought for sure she was going to let me have it for my performance at the meeting.

  Slipping the phone in my pocket, I took a deep breath, getting ready to answer for what I'd done. It was time to admit I'd been lying about Valhalla, time to take the heat for putting Polish Lou Enterprises on the line by stirring up Father Speedy, Nunzio, and Uncle Dupa.

  When Peg reached me, she did let me have it--not a tongue-lashing, but a piece of paper. It was folded in thirds like a letter.

  "Guess what came in the mail today?" She looked at me gravely as she handed it over. "Right before those idiots showed up to pay us a visit."

  I unfolded the letter and read what was typed on it. Instantly, a chill raced up my spine.

  "Geez." I read it again, shocked and sick to the stomach. I'd noticed Peg wasn't at the top of her game at the meeting; now, I knew why.

  It was a death threat, made out to her.

  I held it up and flapped it. "Did you call the police yet?"

  Peg shook her head. "I didn't get the chance, thanks to the idiots."

  "We should call right away." I pulled out my phone. "You need protection."

  "You think Otto would protect me? You are living in a fantasy land." Peg sighed. "Anyway, I'm sure it's just a scare tactic."

  "I don't think so." I hated even to hold the note, but I read it a third time.

  NO MORE NOSING AROUND OR I'LL KILL YOU TOO! JUST LIKE YOUR DEAD BOYFRIEND, AND YOU WON'T SEE IT COMING! I CAN GET YOU ANY TIME I WANT. BACK OFF OR DIE!

  "It looks like the note Dad got before he died." I handed it back to her. "Whoever it is, I think they're dead serious. I think you're in danger."

  Peg sighed again and looked disgusted. "This day bites. It really, really does."

  "Listen to me." I reached out and touched her arm. "You need to go to the police. Do you want to end up like Dad?"

  "It won't happen if we get him first," said Peg.

  "But we don't even know who he is." I spread my arms, then let them fall against my sides. "Basically, we've got nothing at this point."

  "Correction." Peg switched an index finger back and forth in front of her. "I think we've found our killer."

  "What?" I frowned. "We have?"

  "I have." Peg nodded. "While you were out this morning, I did that research I was talking about. I looked into Eddie Sr.'s doctors and the meds he might have access to. Did you know he's been trying to quit smoking?"

  "No." Eddie Sr. had been a smoker for as long as I could remember. He'd even bummed smokes off me from time to time back when I was still a semi-pro musician in the polka game.

  "Did you know nicotine, in high enough doses, can kill?" said Peg. "And did you know Eddie Sr.'s been getting nicotine treatments from a doctor in Pittsburgh? Experimental high-dose treatments?"

  "That still doesn't prove anything."

  "It might if they exhume the body and find high traces of nicotine." Peg raised her eyebrows. "Especially since Lou wasn't a smoker."

  "I guess so."

  "Add to that the fact that he hated Lou and could only get a recording contract if Lou was dead." Peg gestured with both hands, hammering home her points. "Plus the fact that Eddie Sr. has been acting guilty and disappearing mysteriously. It all adds up, Lottie."

  I couldn't deny her theory sounded convincing. "But we still don't have any actual evidence, do we?"

  "We will soon enough." Peg fluffed up her 'fro and adjusted her polka-dotted glasses. "Then we'll call the cops."

  Suddenly, the front door swung open, and Eddie Jr. charged into Polka Central. "He did it again! That damned father of mine!"

  Peg gave me a meaningful look. "So you didn't find him, Ed?"

  Eddie pawed at his brown t-shirt, which looked even more rumpled than it had that morning. "He's still gone! I've been driving around for the past three hours, and I can't find a trace of him! The last time anyone saw him was eight-thirty this morning, when he left the urologist."

  "Gee." Peg looked my way again. "I wonder where he could be?"

  "I don't know, and I don't care." Eddie stomped off across the scuffed gym floor toward the stage. "He's made my life miserable. I say the hell with him."

  Peg jabbed me in the side and pointed her jaw in Eddie's direction. She wanted me to go after him.

  I knew she was right. He was pretty worked up and could use a friend. So I nodded and followed him, leaving Peg near the door.

  Little did I know she wouldn't be there for long. I heard the door close when I was up on the stage, about to part the gray curtains after Eddie. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw she was gone.

  I heard her noisy car start up and pull away, and I wondered where she was going. She'd talked about getting the killer before he could get her; since she thought Eddie Sr. was the killer, had she gone in search of
him? If so, what did she think she would do when she found him?

  I wondered if I should go after her. She was in danger, whether Eddie Sr. was the killer or not.

  But she had a big head start, and I wasn't sure if I could catch up. I had no idea where exactly she was headed...and anyway, I had a situation of my own that wouldn't wait.

  Instead of following Eddie into the office, I pulled out my phone and dialed Luke's number. I was worried after the three calls he'd made during the meeting. Why hadn't he left a voice mail message or picked up when I called back?

  And why wasn't he answering this time, either? The phone rang and rang, and Luke didn't take the call. What in the world was going on out there in L.A.?

  Was it possible I'd be better off not knowing about it?

  *****

  Chapter 34

  I talked to Eddie Jr. for a little bit, filling him in on the drama he'd missed with Father Speedy and the gang. It seemed to take his mind off his dad and helped him calm down, so I figured I'd done my part.

  I left him there, in charge of Polka Central, and headed home. Back to the DeeLite Efficiency Motel, anyway. After the day I'd been having, I really needed to hole up in my room for a while. I also needed some uninterrupted time with my phone so I could get to the bottom of the West Coast situation.

  When I pulled up, there was no sign of Ghost the cat, but it was still only late afternoon. I'd only ever seen him after dark, so maybe he'd show up later.

  Hurrying into the room, I shut the door, yanked out my phone, and started dialing. It rang six times, then went to Luke's voice mail. At which point, I hung up and dialed again.

  No one picked up that time, either, or the next three. I was starting to think the only way I'd solve the mystery of Luke's silence was to fly back to L.A. and talk to him face to face.

  Torn between worry and anger, I dropped the phone on the dresser and went to the kitchenette. I set about fixing a bowl of milk for Ghost, on the chance that I hadn't scared him away for good when I'd tried to read the tag on his collar.