Gasping, I jumped to my feet. "Oh my God!" Along the way, the cigarette fell out of my mouth, and I dropped the lighter.
Because the mental math was adding up to a nightmare.
Backpedaling, I bumped into the wall. I stayed there a moment, gaping at the door, wondering what was behind it. Who was behind it.
Whose blood did I have all over my sneakers?
I hated to find out, but I had to look. I had to know.
Even though I thought I knew already. Because I only knew of one person who'd gotten a death threat the day before and set out to find a killer on her own.
Heart hammering, I moved toward the door. I felt like I was caught in a dream, drawn to see a terrible thing against my will. The anticipation was grueling.
But I had to do it.
Taking hold of the bar, I pushed the door open as far as it would go. When it met the blockage and stopped, I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself for what was coming.
Then, I wedged my shoulder in the opening. I squeezed my head halfway through the gap, exposing one eye, and looked down.
And cried out. I couldn't stop myself. The sight of a human body crumpled on the blood-soaked ground was too much of a shock.
Even though it wasn't the body I'd expected.
Whatever had happened to Peg, she wasn't dead outside the back door of Polka Central. This was someone else, someone I wouldn't have thought would turn up with a bullet in his head.
Because, until now, he'd been our main suspect in the murder of Polish Lou.
So now, an old question needed a new answer: Who killed Polish Lou?
And a new question arose alongside it: Who killed Eddie Kubiak, Sr.?
*****
Chapter 37
Fifteen minutes after I called the police, Otto Duranko showed up with two cruisers, sirens blaring. I met him out in front of Polka Central, where I'd just finished my third straight cigarette. Even after all those calming smokes, my hands were still shaking.
Otto had his hand on his gun as he walked toward me. He looked around with fierce alertness, as if the killer might still be nearby, waiting to be dealt with.
Otto was all business when he reached me. "You're sure it's him? You're sure he's dead?"
"It's Eddie Sr., all right." I shrugged. "I didn't check his pulse, but he definitely looked dead. He has a bullet hole right here." I pointed to my forehead.
Otto nodded curtly and headed around the corner of Polka Central with gun held high. Just as I lost sight of him, an ambulance roared up and screeched to a stop behind the cop cruisers.
Otto's two deputies--gray-haired Frank and blocky young George--jogged over and split up. Frank followed Otto, and George sheared off to loop around the other side of the building.
As a pair of paramedics leaped out of the ambulance, laden with gear, I noticed the neighbors were starting to flow out of their homes. An old lady hobbled out of a gray house across the street, using a ski pole as a cane. A heavyset young woman stood on her front stoop two houses down from the old lady, bouncing babies in both arms as they tugged at her long, dark hair. Further down the street, a small crowd had gathered, craning their necks and pointing in my direction.
Feeling conspicuous, I sighed and strolled around the corner after Otto and Frank. Since I hadn't heard any gunshots, I figured the coast was clear.
I stepped around the back of the building, taking care to make enough noise so I didn't get shot...but no one even looked up. Otto, Frank, and George were huddled around the back door, gazing down at the body on the ground.
"Coming through!" The two paramedics charged up behind me, and I ducked against the wall to let them pass. Otto, Frank, and George also got out of their way, parting so they could access the body.
As the paramedics went to work, Otto walked over and stood beside me. "You just found him like that? You don't have any idea what happened?"
I nodded, watching as one of the paramedics pressed the bell of a stethoscope to Eddie Sr.'s chest. "I was trying to go out back for a smoke, and I couldn't get the door open because he was..."
"Dead," said the paramedic. "He's long gone."
Otto shook his head sadly. "First Lou, now Eddie. Both Polka Princes gone in one week."
I gave him a meaningful look. "What a coincidence, huh? Hard to believe they're not connected."
Otto pulled off his glasses, then tugged a white cloth from his pocket and used it to polish them. "Are you trying to do my job for me, Miss Kachowski?"
An answer came to mind about how someone needed do it, but I thought better of putting it out there. "Of course not, Chief."
"Glad to hear it." Otto turned and raised an eyebrow at me. "Because we only need one Police Chief in this town, don't we?"
"Yes, Chief."
"And he might not be perfect," said Otto, "but he is still more than capable of smelling a rat when someone hits him over the head with it. Wouldn't you say?"
I nodded. "Yes, Chief." Maybe Otto wasn't so oblivious, after all.
"Good to know we're on the same page." He pocketed the cloth, plugged the wire-framed glasses back onto his head, and returned to Eddie Sr.'s body. "Talk to me, fellas."
The paramedics hurried past with their gear, leaving Frank and George to explore the crime scene. I lingered off to the side, taking it all in while staying out of the way.
"No shell casings yet." George walked slowly around the body, bent over and staring at the dirt. "And I'm not seeing signs of a struggle."
Frank, who was hunkered down beside Eddie Sr., slipped on a pair of latex gloves. He gingerly lifted Eddie's right arm and gazed at the underside, which looked lighter in color than the top side. "Lividity indicates he was moved."
"So he was killed elsewhere and dumped here." Otto scratched his head. "I wonder why?"
"Maybe it's a message." The words were out of my mouth before I had time to second-guess. "Peg got a death threat yesterday like Dad did before he died."
Otto turned back, raising both eyebrows. "Do tell? And where is she right now?"
Something in the look on his face made me wonder if I should've kept the threat to myself. "Uh..." As I stood there, meeting Otto's gaze, a new equation took shape in my mind, adding up to a possibility I hadn't considered till that moment.
Peg had gone out looking for the killer, planning to get to him before he got to her. What if she'd done exactly that? What if she'd taken out her chief suspect in a very permanent way?
It might explain why she was still off the radar. "I don't know where she is, Chief."
I could tell from the look on Otto's face that he was thinking along the same lines regarding Peg. "Let me know if you think of where she might be. She might need some protection."
It was more likely he wanted to question her about Eddie Sr. "Will do, Chief." I wasn't about to hand her over, even if I'd had any idea of her whereabouts.
Just as Otto turned his full attention to the body, I heard a beeping sound from somewhere nearby. I ignored it at first, and it stopped...then started again.
Frowning, I followed the beeping around the side of Polka Central. The closer I got to the front of the building, the louder it got. And then I was right on top of it.
Looking down, I saw the glow of a cell phone screen in the middle of a scraggly hedge. I reached in carefully, trying not to scratch my arm, and fished it out.
When I brought it up, I saw a name on the screen: Adrianna. A number went with the name, but it had too many digits, starting with 011...then 48...then nine more after that. I barely managed to commit it to memory before the phone stopped beeping.
And Otto snatched it out of my hand. "Okay, Miss Kachowski. That's enough helping for one day, I think."
With that, he walked me out front and left me by the curb. Next thing I knew, Polka Central was surrounded by yellow crime scene tape, and I was stuck outside it with all the other spectators.
*****
Chapter 38
As soon as Otto walked away, I pulle
d out my phone, typed in Adrianna's number, and saved it to my contacts list. I'd have to look into it later.
Then, I waited and watched among the looky-loos, unfairly sidelined from the investigation going on in back of Polka Central. Glynne showed up for work, and I filled her in on what had happened.
Soon enough, the coroner pulled up and hurried under the tape with her silver case of instruments. Next, the same WNKK news crew who'd been on-site for the big meeting the day before came jogging up the street, complete with camera and mic.
As the reporter and cameraman closed in, I decided to leave. The last thing I wanted was to be interrogated on camera about Eddie Sr.'s murder.
"I have to go find Peg," I told Glynne. "Do you mind holding down the fort a while?"
"There isn't much of a fort to hold down, since I can't go in." She gestured at the yellow police tape wound around the site. "So yeah, I guess I can handle that."
"Let me give you my cell number." I rattled it off, and she typed it into her phone. "Call if anything crazy happens."
Glynne dropped the phone in the pocket of her pink hoodie and raised a red eyebrow. "Gee, what are the chances?"
Since I had my keys with me, I was ready to roll. I was glad I'd left my purse on the seat. I doubted the cops would've let me back inside Polka Central if I'd needed to retrieve it.
I started the engine and rolled slowly away from the curb. The spectators parted reluctantly, giving me dirty looks as if they thought I was a criminal making a getaway.
But I still made it out of there in the nick of time. In my rear-view mirror, I saw the news crew trotting after me, waving and shouting. As slowly as I was moving through the crowd, they still couldn't catch up with me.
And then I turned left, and the way opened up ahead of me. The cross street was empty and quiet; everyone was around the corner where the action was, at Polka Central.
I turned right and then right again, ending up on busy Solid Avenue, which cut across the bottom edge of Katyn Borough. As I rolled onward in the steady flow of traffic, I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be away from the craziness.
Now if only I knew where to go next.
Should I head for the DeeLite Efficiency Motel and hide away for the time being? I could hide at Baba Tereska's just as well, but she might ask some awkward questions if the news about Eddie Sr. had already traveled the grapevine.
It seemed to me the most critical task was to track down Peg, dead or alive. I needed to find out if the killer had made good on his threat, or if Peg had followed through on hers.
Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I dialed her number and waited. It rang six times, then kicked into voice mail. I tried again, with the same results.
Without being able to simply ask her where she was, I needed to consider the possibilities. In a worst case scenario, she could be anywhere--dead in a ditch, tied up in a basement, buried in a back yard. In a best case scenario, if Peg were alive and kicking, she could be on the run, hundreds of miles away by now.
Or maybe she was closer to home. Much closer.
In other words, maybe she was at home. So that was where I headed. I made a left and crossed the bridge over the Oderina River, driving toward the hilltop neighborhoods of Upper Gdansk Township. I knew the way to Peg's place like the back of my hand.
After all, it was the house I'd grown up in.
*****
Chapter 39
Upper Gdansk had been the ritzy part of town since long before I was born. Back when coal mining was big in the region, the bosses had all lived in the township. It was still home to most of the officials, doctors, dentists, and attorneys in New Krakow.
Until recently, it had also been home to Polish Lou.
As I drove along the broad streets under canopies of oak trees, I watched the stately old homes slide past on both sides. Modern, generic "McMansions" were nowhere to be seen; the sprawling structures lining the streets, overflowing with character, were more likely to have been built fifty years ago than five.
Lou's place wasn't a palace, but it matched the Upper Gdansk aesthetic just fine. It occupied a shady lot in a corner of the township where the houses were less ostentatious and more crowded. "Cozier" is the word that comes to mind.
As I turned down the sun-dappled street where I'd once lived, the familiar turret of our old Victorian came into view, jutting up between the oaks. I remembered playing in that turret, spending many blissful hours in the round, sunny room...imagining it was the tower of a castle, and I was the princess trapped inside.
Drawing closer, I saw the sharp peaks of the roof angling down to the faded yellow rounded shingle siding. The trim around the windows had also faded, gone from dark brown, almost chocolate, to light tan.
As I rolled toward the front, I could see the giant porch wrapping around the place, its roof upheld by slender white columns. It was another of my favorite haunts as a child, especially on long summer days.
My heart beat faster as the memories rushed through me...and then it beat even faster because of something else. When I pulled into the driveway and got my first clear view of the front of the property, I saw a familiar car parked off to one side. It was Peg's clunker, the white Oldsmobile. It was parked at an angle, blocking in another vehicle that was nosed up against the fence along the driveway.
The blocked-in vehicle was a silver pickup, a Ford. Just like Eddie Kubiak Jr.'s.
Not exactly what I'd expected to see at my dad's house. Peg's car, maybe; Eddie Jr.'s, never in a million years.
So what was going on here?
Frowning, I pulled in behind Peg's car, blocking her the way she'd blocked Eddie. Then, I got out and walked slowly to the front steps, wondering what else I was going to find. If there was a single good reason for Peg and Eddie Jr. to be together at the house at that moment, I couldn't think of it.
On the other hand, my imagination kept conjuring up other reasons that weren't so good. What if my worst fears about Peg were true, and she had killed Eddie Sr.? What if Eddie Jr. knew she'd done it and had followed her back here? Or what if they were working together? He'd had major issues with his old man for as far back as I could remember, hadn't he?
I shook my head hard to banish the paranoia...but I couldn't quite clear it all out. These days, it seemed like any awful suspicion might come true.
So when I set foot on the front porch, I took care to step lightly. Whoever was inside the house must have heard me pull up, but I thought it'd be best to keep the rest of my approach as quiet as possible.
Just in case.
The porch floorboards squeaked as I walked across them. I winced, but there was nothing I could do about it.
My heart jackhammered in my chest as I reached for the handle of the screen door. Should I hit the doorbell or knock? Either way would tip off anyone inside who might be looking to do me harm.
I pulled my hand away and stood there a moment. Maybe I shouldn't go inside at all; maybe it would be smarter to call the cops. After all, Otto had said he wanted to talk to Peg.
But what if the cops arrested Peg and filed trumped up charges because they couldn't find someone else to blame? Or what if Peg had done it, but the murder had been justified because Eddie Sr. had killed my father? In that case, I'd want Peg to go free, but that wouldn't be an option if the cops were in the picture.
So I decided to go in alone, after all. I might be putting myself in grave danger, but I thought the odds were on my side. I doubted anyone in that house would want to hurt me.
Unless, of course, someone other than Peg and Eddie Jr. was in there, too.
I was shaking a little as I opened the screen door and stepped forward. My hand closed on the knob of the inner door, and I hesitated; if the door was locked, I'd have to go around back and see if I could get in that way.
Luckily, the knob turned freely. I heard the latch slide clear of the jamb, and the door moved inward when I pushed.
Should I call out as I entered? Given the circumstances
, I thought it'd be better to keep my mouth shut.
Especially since things did not look reassuring when I stepped inside. The living room was a disaster area; the place looked like it had been turned upside down by burglars.
So much for a trouble-free visit. Maybe my paranoia had been on the money, after all.
As I looked around the ransacked room, the hairs on the back of my neck jumped to attention. My stomach twisted, and my heart beat faster than ever. If someone could tear the place apart like that, maybe they'd do the same thing to me.
The sofa cushions were on the floor, and the sofa was overturned. The black leather recliner was on its side with the footrest cranked out. All the pictures and plaques were down off the walls and taken apart. The bookshelves were empty, the books and knick-knacks strewn around the room. Someone had even disassembled the TV set, leaving the picture tube, parts, and cabinet scattered on the floor.
I had to be careful not to step on anything as I moved further into the room. There were CDs and DVDs everywhere; disks and cases had been pulled apart and tossed. Lamps and light bulbs lay on the floor, too, separated but not broken. The pages of a family photo album had been pitched in a corner; I saw a shot of myself as a little girl of five or six, posing prettily in a pink dress with a big white bow.
Wandering onward through the debris, I wondered what had happened here. Why would Peg or Eddie Jr. ransack Dad's house? If they weren't responsible for the mess, who was, and why?
Veering right, I stepped over pieces of the stereo system and peered through the doorway into the dining room. It was just as bad as the living room. The table and chairs had all been upended, every drawer pulled free of the hutch and dumped. The china cupboard had been emptied, the china stacked haphazardly on the floor. Someone had taken down the crystal chandelier and pried the base from the ceiling, exposing the electrical box in its crater in the drywall.
I was about to walk into the dining room for a closer look when I heard a creaking noise somewhere behind me. Muscles tensed, adrenaline burning through my bloodstream, I spun around.
Dancing with Murder Page 17