*****
St. Casimir Church was in the same part of town, just three blocks away from Polka Central...but I still drove. No way did I want to be out of breath when I got there.
The church's twin spires jutted high above the working class neighborhood, turquoise peaks bathed in the late afternoon sunlight. The pale gray stone façade hunched up into the deep blue sky, an enormous rose window dominating its center like a great cyclopean eye.
Driving past all that, I parked along the curb in front of the adjacent rectory. I took a moment in the car to think it over and prep myself--then got out and started walking.
The rectory was a rectangular two-story building with dark brick walls swaddled in ivy. It huddled in the shadow of the pale gray church, a dark contrast that suited the priest who was turning the screws on Polkapourri.
As I walked up the front steps, I wondered how long it would take him to come to the door. Would he even deign to see me at all? Chances were good he'd let me stew; unfortunately for him, I wasn't the type to get psyched out by head games. I wasn't about to give him any ground in this negotiation.
I was surprised, however, when the door swung open before my knuckles could knock on the wood. There he was, the elusive Father Speedy, gaping out at me.
He was a handsome guy for his age, which I guessed was late fifties or early sixties. I'd seen him at Mass now and then on my few trips home from L.A., so I recognized him...though communion was the extent of our acquaintance. What I did know was that the ladies had a thing for him.
Father Speedy was like their own personal movie star. "Hello, Lottie." His voice was deep and resonant. He was on the short side but tanned and fit. His thick, wavy hair was shot through with gray, and his bright, white smile flashed like a double row of flashbulbs.
I nodded coolly. "Father." He'd caught me off guard, but I was back in control.
"How are you doing?" Father Speedy took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "My prayers are with you in this difficult time. Such a terrible loss."
"Yes, it is." I slid my hand from his grip, determined not to let him steer the conversation. It was time for a curve ball of my own. "I only wish my father had lived to see Polkapourri in its new venue."
Father Speedy raised an eyebrow. "What new venue is that, my child?" There was a twinkle in his eye; I think he already knew I was playing him.
"Twice the space at half the price." I widened my eyes excitedly. "Plus, it'll be closer to Pittsburgh. I think Polkapourri could really explode this year."
"Are you talking about the ski resort?" He folded his arms over his chest. "Has Valhalla made an offer?"
I scrunched up my nose. "I don't want to jinx it."
"I see." He rocked on the balls of his feet. "And they can provide the authentic Polish food?"
"Let me just say this." I leaned forward and smiled conspiratorially. "Food, not a problem. Alcohol, got it covered."
"Uh huh." He tipped his head back and stared at me through narrowed eyes. "You do know that lying to a man of the cloth is a sin, don't you?"
"Not that it matters, but I'm a lapsed Catholic." I shrugged. "Fifteen years in Los Angeles, right?"
Father Speedy laughed. "I suppose you could be persuaded to keep Polkapourri at the parish festival grounds if we asked for less of an increase in our cut?"
"You mean if you reduced your cut?"
He shook his head. "Reduced the increase we've requested."
"I'm sorry." I smiled sweetly. "I thought you were suggesting taking a decrease instead of an increase."
Father Speedy laughed again and leaned against the doorjamb. "Now wouldn't that be something?"
I laughed, too. "Too bad it's impossible, huh? What with the new venue being practically a done deal and all."
"What a shame." He wagged his head. "Well, this is splendid news for us at St. Casimir's. Another group wanted to use the grounds for a festival that very same weekend."
"Won't they be happy!" My fake grin just wouldn't let up. Father Speedy and I knew we were both bluffing, but we had to keep up the act to the bitter end. "I'm so glad I could help."
"It's all for the best, I suppose." Father Speedy stared past me, off into space. "Lou and I had a--challenging--relationship."
"Is that so?" It was the first I'd heard there were issues between them.
"He tried to get me fired," said Father Speedy.
My smile slipped into a frown. I couldn't help it. This was all news to me...if it was true. "Why would he do that?"
Father Speedy squared his jaw and met my gaze. "Polish Lou made a lot of enemies around this town. You'd be surprised."
Before I could say another word, he stepped back through the doorway. "Thank you ever so much for stopping by, child. I look forward to the spectacular new Polkapourri at Valhalla Ski Resort."
A wily sneer flickered across his face, and then he was gone. The door closed, and I heard the lock clack into place.
Leaving me standing there as I realized, in spite of my coming on strong, that Father Speedy had won this first bout between us.
*****
Chapter 26
It was after five o'clock by the time I got back to Polka Central. Peg was still in the office, working on the new laptop with a bottle of water and a bag of pistachios at her side.
Her eyes flicked up from the screen when I walked in. "How'd it go, Lottie? Did you make Father cry 'uncle?'"
"I'm working on it." I smiled and tried to sound blasé about the whole thing. "I've got him on the ropes."
"Do you know how great that is?" She looked back down at her computer. "Father Speedy always gets what he wants."
"Not this time, Peg." I clapped my hands together. "This time, he gets nothing. I told him we're moving Polkapourri to a new location."
"You told him we're moving?" Peg looked stunned behind her polka dot glasses. "You mean you lied to him?"
"Nope." I didn't have the heart to tell her that Father Speedy had called my bluff and Polkapourri was now homeless. It was easier for now to bluff her, too, and hope things worked out for the best in the long run. "I mean I've made a deal to move Polkapourri to the Valhalla Ski Resort."
Peg frowned. "Why is this the first I'm hearing about it? You're not the only one who should be making decisions, are you?"
"I'm sorry." I shrugged. "I actually thought it would make him back down right away, so we wouldn't have to commit to the move at all. But he didn't."
"I should be in on all decisions." Peg nodded sternly. "From now on, okay?"
"Yes." Even as I said it, I wasn't sure I could keep my word. "I'll bring you in on everything from now on."
"Still..." Peg smirked. "Nice job, Lottie. This could be just the shakeup we need to stop Father Speedy's demands. And if he won't back down, we'll have a great Polkapourri at Valhalla. I think we could actually draw a much bigger crowd out there."
"I think so, too." I smiled and planted my hands on my hips. "Look how many people they get for Oktoberfest, right?"
"So what's your next move, Intimidator?"
Call Valhalla Ski Resort before Father Speedy beat me to it. Try to sell them on becoming the new home of Polkapourri. "Play the waiting game," I said. "Let Father Speedy sweat till he finally comes crying to us."
"That's my girl." Peg typed something on the laptop with rapid-fire keystrokes. "I knew you'd be perfect for the job."
"So did I." It was possible that things would still work out. Maybe Father Speedy would blink first and fold his hand, leaving us to rake in the pot. But I was determined not to worry about it for now.
Not when I had other problems on my mind. "Did Dad have a lot of enemies in this town?" I said it as I sat on the corner of Peg's desk. "Not counting the anonymous death threats."
She looked up from the laptop and shrugged. "Define 'a lot.'"
"I don't know. More than a few." I held up the fingers of both hands. "How about ten?"
Peg scowled. "Probably. Who said so?"
"Fat
her Speedy. Who, by the way, said he was one of them. He said Dad tried to get him fired three times."
"He's still fixated on that?" She sighed. "Get over it, right?"
"Maybe we've been going about this all wrong." I patted the laptop screen. "Maybe we need to make a list of Dad's enemies and see who had the most to gain from killing him."
Peg leaned back, tapping her forefinger against her lips. "So we've got Father Speedy Nowakowski, Eddie Kubiak, Sr..."
Just as she said it, the front door of Polka Central banged open, and we heard footsteps.
"It's me!" The voice from the gym was Eddie Jr.'s. "I found my dad!"
"Speak of the devil." Peg said it for my ears only, then raised her voice for Eddie Jr. "Where was he?"
"Poker game at Nunzio's," Eddie shouted as he stomped up the stageside steps.
Peg's eyes widened. She poked me in the back with a finger and whispered, "There's one for the list. Nunzio Caputo."
I nodded. Nunzio was another one I didn't know personally, though of course I knew the name. He was the most powerful politician in town--city council chairman and head of the local Republican party. He had a reputation for dirty dealing but was popular anyway and had never been caught.
Eddie Jr. burst through the curtains, looking flushed. "Joe Hammershek gave him a lift from the doctor's office." Eddie threw his hands up and shook his head. "Which would've been fine if Dad had remembered to call and tell me where he was going."
"Parents. You can dress 'em up, but you can't take 'em out." Peg chuckled. "At least he's okay, Ed."
"Not for long." Eddie Jr. pounded his fist into the palm of his hand.
"Just don't mess him up too bad for Polkapourri," said Peg. "He's our biggest draw now."
I wondered if she was going to ask him about Eddie Sr.'s fight with Lou. Maybe now, when he was relieved about finding his dad, wasn't the right time.
Sure enough, she avoided the subject. "Did you hear the big news?" She clapped her hands three times fast. "We're moving! Lottie found a new venue for Polkapourri."
"Where?"
Peg nodded in my direction, leaving it up to me to break the big news.
I tried not to let on that it was only fake news. "Valhalla."
"The ski resort? Woah yeah!" Eddie Jr. pumped his fist in the air. "We'll bring in that whole Pittsburgh polka crowd!"
"I knew she could handle Father Nowakowski." Peg beamed and patted my leg. "She's our very own Intimidator."
"How awesome is this?" Eddie Jr. marched over and swatted my upper arm. "Father Speedy tried bleeding us dry, and you told him to take his festival grounds and shove 'em."
I shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah."
"Father Speedy played hardball, didn't he?" Peg looked at me, and I nodded. "Apparently, he has a real axe to grind with Lou."
Eddie Jr. snorted. "Some people can't handle being almost fired, can they?"
"At least your dad let bygones be bygones." Peg smiled at Eddie Jr. "He and Lou feuded for years, but they finally got over it."
"Life's too short, right?" Eddie Jr. nodded and smiled sadly.
"Lou told me many times how glad he was that they'd made amends." Peg frowned. "But right near the end, he seemed to get upset again, didn't he, Lottie?"
It wasn't hard to see where she was going with this. I knew what she wanted me to say. "My sister saw Dad and Eddie arguing outside the Falcons. Really going at it. I guess the fight had something to do with 'strikes,' whatever that means."
"Really?" A deep frown etched itself into Eddie Jr.'s features. "'Strikes?'"
Peg got up from her chair and faced him with arms folded across her chest. "Any idea what that's all about, Eddie?"
She and I both stared at him intently. He rubbed his chin and thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not a clue, sorry."
"You don't know why they might have been arguing?" said Peg. "He didn't mention any problem between them?"
"Nope." Eddie Jr. ran his fingertips along the fine line of his sidemusgoat. "This is the first I've heard of it."
He looked and sounded perfectly convincing. Totally at ease with the truthfulness of his story and genuinely sorry he couldn't be more helpful.
I might have believed him if I hadn't known him so well.
Something about his face and voice tipped me off, something I remembered from when he was my boyfriend. Something I'd learned long ago to recognize as a matter of self-preservation.
I could tell he was lying about his dad.
"Well, that's good to hear." I nodded. "I'd hate to think Dad died with anything like that hanging over him."
"I don't think you have to worry about it," said Eddie Jr. "They were cool as far as I know. They were even talking about working together again."
Peg scowled. "You're kidding me."
"Nope." Eddie Jr. sighed. "Can you imagine, after all that time? Eddie Kubiak and Lou Kachowski performing together again? The Polish Princes reunited?"
"This is the first I've heard about it." Peg looked troubled.
"They were considering playing together at Polkapourri," said Eddie Jr. "They wanted to do something special for the twenty-fifth anniversary. That would've been something to see, huh?"
"It sure would've." I looked from Eddie Jr. to Peg. The only thing more interesting than the revelation about a proposed reunion was her reaction to it. Why would Dad have kept it secret from his soul mate?
Peg stared into space a moment, then shook her head. "I think we should call it a day." She closed the laptop, unplugged it, and tucked it under her arm.
"If you say so." Eddie Jr. gave me a funny look.
"We'll have a busy day tomorrow." Peg slung her polka-dotted bag over her shoulder. "The Polkateers just dropped out. We need to find a replacement and revise the entire Polkapourri schedule."
Eddie Jr. grimaced. "They dropped out last year, too, didn't they? They begged you to take them back this year."
"Tell me about it." Peg shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me if they try to get back in at the last minute."
"Me either." Eddie shook his head disgustedly. "Remind me again why we do this, boss?"
"'Cause polka's in our blood." A half-smile was the best she could do. I could tell, as she walked past me, that she was upset.
"Wait a sec," I told her. "I'll walk out with you."
She didn't turn back. "Thanks anyway, but I've got to get going. See you both tomorrow." There was a slight hitch in her voice. I thought maybe she was about to cry.
"See you then," I said as she pushed through the gray curtains.
Eddie Jr. walked over and peeked out, watching her leave. When the front door of Polka Central banged shut, he turned to me. "What's going on here, Lot?"
I froze. Should I tell him about our suspicions regarding Lou's death? Should I let on that he might have been murdered?
Not yet. Not without clearing it with Peg. "She's still pretty messed up," I said. "She tries to keep it bottled up, but sometimes it just breaks loose."
Eddie walked back from the curtain. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually feel sorry for her."
"You and me both." I sighed and got up from the corner of the desk where I'd been sitting. "The more I get to know her, the less I hate her guts."
"It's not just that." Eddie shook his head. "She's changed since Lou died. Like she's toned down her inner nutcase."
I scooped up my butterscotch leather purse from the back of a desk chair and hung the strap from my shoulder. "I guess losing someone will do that to you." It was time for me to leave; the longer I stayed, the greater the chance I'd let something slip about the murder and Eddie's dad.
Eddie walked with me to the gray curtains. "So you're sure there's nothing going on, Lot?"
"Nothing I'm aware of." As I met and held his gaze, I wondered if he could tell when I was lying as easily as I could tell when he was. It was possible; we'd been pretty close once.
Eddie Jr. nodded. Either he accepted what I'd told him,
or he was letting it slide for now. "All right then."
"See you tomorrow, Eddie." With a half-smile, I walked past him and pushed through the curtains.
But Eddie followed and headed me off on the other side. "Wait up, Lot." He hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. "I was just wondering." He actually seemed nervous.
"Wondering about what?"
"Well, uh..." Eddie Jr. looked away and shuffled his feet on the stage. "Do you want to, uh...go get a beer somewhere?"
I hadn't seen that one coming. Now I was the nervous one. "A beer?" Because my ex-boyfriend was asking me out.
"Sure." Eddie shrugged. "Down at the Falcons, maybe? Or Sweet Talk?"
I thought fast. This couldn't happen, of course, but I didn't want to hurt him. He was one of the few friends I had in town, not to mention a potential lead in my father's murder. "Not tonight, Eddie. I'm exhausted."
He stepped back from me, looking sheepish. "Oh, okay."
"But thanks." I tried to smile just enough to let him know I appreciated the offer...but not so much he got the wrong idea.
"It's cool." Eddie folded his arms over his chest. "I'm, uh...I'm a different person, you know. From the way I used to be when..." He shrugged.
When we had a relationship. I knew what he meant, but it didn't change things. Even if I hadn't been living with Luke in L.A., I wouldn't have been quick to date Eddie Jr. again. There were reasons we'd broken up, good reasons...and from what I could see, he wasn't all that different from before. I'd been through worse breakups, but honestly, why would I go down a dead-end road like that again?
Better to nip it in the bud and try my best to preserve the friendship. "I'm different, too, Eddie. You know I'm seeing somebody, right?"
Eddie unfolded his arms and nodded slowly as understanding dawned on him. "Ahhhh. I see." He rolled his eyes and smiled. "I should've known. Sorry, Lot."
"No apology necessary." I brushed my hand through the air nonchalantly. "Doesn't mean I can't have a drink with an old friend...but not tonight, okay? No hard feelings?"
Dancing with Murder Page 11
