Peg held on tight.
Eddie let out a cry of rage, roaring at the top of his lungs. I was vaguely aware of deputies running toward us, and Otto waving them off.
The next cry out of Eddie was one of anguish, not rage. "Why?" His eyes locked with Peg's. "Why didn't you warn me?"
"Because we didn't know for sure, Ed." Peg said it in a soothing voice. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."
With that, Eddie collapsed sobbing against her shoulder.
I cried a little myself as I stood back and watched. I cried for him, and I cried because of what he'd said.
What if he was right? If Peg and I had tried harder, could we have saved Eddie Sr.? If we'd treated him as a potential victim instead of a suspect, would he still be alive?
As Eddie kept sobbing on Peg's shoulder, Otto sat down. He looked around on his desktop for something, then leaned over and squinted at the stuff Eddie had swept to the floor.
"Lottie?" He pointed at the scattered objects. "Could you hand me my Rolodex, please?"
I nodded, then crouched to retrieve it. Luckily, though the Rolodex had hurtled off the desk, the dozens of business cards it contained were still attached to the spool.
Rising, I placed the Rolodex on the corner of Otto's desk. "Thank you, Lottie." He smiled and started flipping through it.
"Sure." I glanced at Eddie Jr. and Peg, but nothing had changed. Eddie was letting it all out, and Peg was patting his back and rocking him softly from side to side.
In years gone by, when her name had been strictly mud to me, I'd never guessed she could be so caring. I'd never imagined she had it in her to reach out to another human being except in a selfish, destructive way. I couldn't believe how wrong I'd been.
"Hello?" Otto had dialed someone on the phone while I wasn't paying attention. "Listen, Peg signed off." He kept his voice low. "Can you move it along?" He paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. "How about tomorrow? At the latest." Another pause. His eyes flicked up to gaze at Eddie Jr. and Peg. "Well, do what you can. Call in favors if you have to." His eyes flicked over and met my gaze. "We've waited too long already."
*****
Chapter 43
Once Eddie Jr. had calmed down--and apologized to Otto for trashing his desk--we walked him out of the police station.
We lingered on the sidewalk out front, blinking and flinching in the bright afternoon sun like we'd just rolled out of bed. A terrible new future was roaring toward us, and we had to face it.
Some sooner than others. "I need to go to the funeral home." Eddie sighed. "I have to make the arrangements."
Peg squeezed his shoulder. "We'll go with you, Ed."
"Thanks." Eddie shook his head. "But I think I'd rather do this alone."
"Are you sure?" said Peg.
"Yeah." He fished his keys out of his pocket. "I'll call you guys later and let you know what's up."
Peg's expression was deeply sympathetic. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?"
He assured us he was fine, and then he was gone. We watched his silver pickup roll slowly out of the parking lot, carrying him off to the terrible deeds ahead.
At which point, a black Mazda two-door whipped into his space. My heart sank when I caught a glimpse of the man behind the wheel.
"Father Speedy." He was the last person I wanted to deal with at that moment...but I could see there would be no escape. Speedy hopped out of the Mazda and jogged toward us before we could get away. He pointed his finger at us en route so we'd know he wanted to talk to us.
"I am so not in the mood." I was sure he could see the scowl on my face, and I didn't care. The guy was more than a thorn in my side; he was a whole thorn bush. "What if we run for it?"
Peg snorted. "Maybe if we ran in opposite directions."
"At least one of us would escape."
"Maybe," said Peg.
But we stood our ground and waited together for the incoming priest. He'd taken a pretty good beating back at Polka Central, but his eagerness to talk to us suggested he was ready for another round. What tricks did he have up his sleeve this time, I wondered?
"I missed him, didn't I?" He was only slightly out of breath when he reached us. "Was that Eddie Jr. pulling out just now?"
"Yes, Father." Peg's voice had an edge. She wasn't making an effort to hide her dislike. "He's on the way to the funeral home."
Father Speedy stuck his hands on his hips and shook his head. "I'd hoped to catch him. Which funeral home is it?"
"Not sure, Father." Peg made a gesture like she was shooing a fly. "Take your pick."
"Fair enough." Father Speedy smirked. "No worries."
Peg nodded and looked my way. "Well, I guess we'd better get going. Lots to do to get ready for Polkapourri."
"Do you mean to tell me you're still planning to have that?" Father Speedy stared at us as if we'd just broken all ten commandments at once. "Haven't you cancelled it yet?"
"Why on Earth would we do that?" said Peg.
Father Speedy combed his fingers through his thick hair. "After what's happened, I can't imagine you not canceling it. You've lost both your headliners."
"We've got another one." Peg smiled. "Eddie Jr. will fill his dad's shoes just fine."
"So soon after losing his father?"
"He'd never let his old man down," said Peg. "He'll make it a tribute to his father's legacy."
"It's possible, I suppose." Speedy shrugged. "But will people stay away because they're not sure he'll measure up to Eddie Sr.?"
"Don't worry about it." Peg shook her head with conviction. "People will know he can deliver."
Father Speedy shook his head and looked smug. He clasped his hands behind his back and bounced on the balls of his feet. "You should still count on quite a drop-off in attendance. If profits bottom out as a result, I can envision you having trouble holding on to your vendors and partners."
And so, his plan became clear. My friend's father had just been shot to death, and Speedy was still obsessed with sticking it to us over Polkapourri.
I wanted to punch his lights out. I wanted to do worse than that, actually. Why did he have to be a priest, and why did we have to be standing in front of a police station at that moment?
I glared at him. "What's wrong with you?"
Father Speedy did his best to look innocent. "Excuse me?"
"Eddie just lost his father." I pointed in the general direction in which Eddie's pickup had gone. "And you're using that to haggle with us?"
He looked at me like I was insane. "I don't know what you're..."
Suddenly, I'd had enough. Lunging forward, I jabbed his chest with my finger. "You should be ashamed. What kind of priest are you?"
Finally, he looked a little rattled. "Now wait, Lottie..."
Before I could say another word, Peg grabbed my elbow and pulled me away from him. "We need to get going," she said.
I clenched my teeth and stepped back. Father Speedy had pushed me to the limit...but she was right. If I went any further down this road, I'd wind up in big trouble. Then, he would win.
"As always, Father, it's been a pleasure." Peg said it in a way that made it clear it had been anything but a pleasure. "God must be very, very proud of you."
Father Speedy's expression darkened. "It never pays to have false hopes, Peg. Don't kill the messenger."
Peg smiled grimly. "Know what I think?" Suddenly, she was jabbing him in the chest with her finger. "I think attendance will skyrocket this year. You'll make more money. We'll all make more money. So why on Earth would I raise your percentage?"
"Expenses go up, Peg." He pushed forward. "The cost of doing business never goes down."
Peg pushed back. The two of them were nose to nose. "The rate Lottie quoted you stays the same. You take a cut." She pressed closer until their foreheads touched. "And you're lucky I don't ask for more after this disgusting performance."
I watched, mesmerized, as she held him there a moment, then shoved him away. Father Sp
eedy staggered back, looking disheveled for once, looking out of his league.
While Peg was blazing with righteous fury. "What kind of man turns the death of another man--one of his own parishioners--into an excuse for extorting more money from a community festival?" She glared at him, wagging her head in disgust. "You need to take a hard look at yourself, 'Father.'" She turned, brushing her hand through the air as if to sweep him away. "God knows I can't stand to look at you anymore."
Then, the two of us headed for my car, leaving Father Speedy standing alone in front of the police station. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away, burning holes between my shoulder blades...but I never looked back. He'd crossed the line this time, he really had.
Whether or not he'd realize it was anyone's guess.
*****
Chapter 44
Peg and I retreated to Stush's Diner. We had a million and one things to do to get ready for Polkapourri, but we badly needed to step back and take stock first.
When we walked in, Uncle Stush greeted us with an expression of deepest sorrow on his St. Bernard face. "Such a terrible, terrible day." He wagged his head and looked like he might cry. "Another good friend, taken before his time."
Peg sighed. "We're still in shock. We just can't believe it."
"I don't know how this town will ever recover." Stush gestured in the general direction of a booth and staggered toward the kitchen. "Coffee will be out in a minute."
Peg watched him go. "He's pretty broken up about Eddie. They knew each other forever."
I nodded and followed her to the booth. Stush had been right about the town not recovering easily. Eddie Sr. might not have been as successful as Dad, but he'd been well known and well loved in New Krakow. His recording career had been in the toilet for ages, but he'd been a strong presence around town, and he would be missed.
"So." I sat down across from Peg and slumped into my seat. I felt like I'd just been through a war. "Where do we go from here?"
Peg rolled up the sleeves of her navy blue sweatshirt, the same one she'd had on yesterday. She'd been up all night searching for the recording and hadn't even changed clothes yet. "We need help. Big time."
"I think Otto's on our side, finally."
"Not that kind of help." Peg rubbed her eyes and sighed. "We're never going to get Polkapourri up and running on our own. Not if we plan on finding the killer, too."
"You don't think the cops will find him?"
Peg flashed me a look that had you can't be serious written all over it. "Glynne's already set to help us out. But she's not enough." Peg looked up as the coffee arrived.
Stush carried a steaming cup in each hand. He stood there a moment with his head bowed, looking gloomier than ever. "Eddie said he hated my coffee, you know. But he drank gallons of it anyway." He put the cups down on the edge of the table and hurried off, sniffling into his shirt sleeve.
I pulled my cup over and hit it with cream and sugar. "You're right, Peg. We need more help."
Peg took the black coffee straight to her lips and sipped. "But we need more than just warm bodies. We need people we can trust." She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow behind her giant polka-dotted glasses, as if she were trying to get me to say something.
I frowned. "People we can trust?"
"Like family." She nodded slowly with both eyes wide, bringing home her point.
My frown deepened. Where the heck was she going with this? "What family?"
Peg pointed a finger at me. "God knows you've got enough of 'em. Including, I might add, two of the original organizers of Polkapourri."
Finally, we were on the same page. "Mom and Baba Tereska?" Of course. The two of them had been there at the festival's start...but it had been so long ago, I'd practically forgotten.
"What about those sisters of yours, too?" She sipped some more coffee. "We'd pay them for their work, of course."
It wasn't the worst idea I'd ever heard. The Furies could be nasty, but they could also work like she-devils when properly motivated. It might even take away some of the sting of my being tapped to help run Polish Lou Enterprises instead of them.
The only catch was their great hatred of Peg, but maybe we could work around that. "I'm willing to give it a try." I shrugged. "The worst they can do is say no."
"Will you talk to them when we're done here?" Peg smiled when I nodded. "Fine. That's great. Let's have a meeting tomorrow morning to bring everyone up to speed."
"Okay." I drank some coffee. "What next?"
Just then, Stush shuffled up to our table. "Maybe I should close for the day. It doesn't feel right being here after..." His voice trailed off.
Peg started to reach for his hand, then caught herself and closed her fist instead. "We can leave if you like."
Stush seemed to think it over. "No, no." He took a deep breath and stood straighter. "I won't turn away regulars. You're like family to me."
I felt funny being called a regular after only being in town a few days, but I went with it. "Thanks, Uncle Stush." I smiled up at him. "What's on special?"
He sniffled against the back of his hand. "Chicken pot pie and baked corn casserole. You want some?"
I widened my eyes and nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."
"What's the soup?" said Peg.
"Ham, green beans, and potatoes." Stush managed a little smile and rubbed his hands together.
"I'll have a cup of that and half a club sandwich." Peg raised her half-empty coffee cup. "And keep the coffee coming, please."
"You bet." Stush tapped the table twice, then walked away.
"Okay." Peg turned her full attention back to me. "What's next is, give me your phone."
It only took a second to guess what she wanted it for. "You want to call Adrianna?" I pulled the phone out of my pocket and put it on the table. "But I thought you didn't speak Polish."
She reached over and picked up my phone. "But I know someone who does." She looked toward the kitchen, then slid her eyes back to meet my gaze.
"Uncle Stush?" Thinking back, I knew she might be right. After all, he'd come over from the old country. I could remember him carrying on conversations in Polish with the old-timers at the diner.
Peg drummed her hands on the table. "The question is, can we trust him to keep it under his hat?"
"I guess so." It was true that we were like family to Stush. I'd known him all my life, and he'd never, ever steered me wrong. "Does it matter?"
"It might." Peg sighed. "He does gossip a lot."
I shrugged. "We don't have to tell him where we got the number, do we?"
"Let's give it a try." Peg looked over her shoulder, where Stush was approaching with a fresh pot of coffee. "Hey, Stush. Got a minute?"
"I always have a minute for you two lovely ladies." Stush smiled as he refilled our cups. He seemed to have recovered some of his composure. "So what can I do for you?"
"Sit down, please." Peg slid across the bench, making room. When he sat beside her, she showed him my phone. "Could you do some translating for us? In Polish?"
Stush frowned, then raised his eyebrows. "I suppose. Who will I be talking to?"
"A woman in Poland," said Peg. "Her name is Adrianna."
Stush spread his hands. "Well, what's it all about?"
"No clue." Peg shook her head. "Something to do with Eddie Sr., we think."
Stush met her gaze, then looked at me, then looked at the phone. "All right then. I'll do my best, but it's been a while. I'm a little out of practice."
"I'm sure you'll do fine." Peg dialed the phone, then held it up to her ear as it rang. "Just see if you can find out what she wants."
"Will do." He took the phone when she offered it. The next word out of his mouth was not in English. "Witam?"
Stush listened a moment, then said something else in Polish into the phone. Then listened some more. As the conversation continued, he stared into space with an unfocused look in his eyes.
Peg and I watched him as he spoke, then listened,
then spoke again. For once, I wished I'd paid more attention when I was little, and my great-grandparents had rattled off their fluent native Polish in my vicinity.
"Co? Chcesz jego autograf?" Stush's mopey face darkened. "Có¿, jesteœ ju¿ za póŸno, moja droga."
The familiar word, "autograf," caught my attention, but nothing else made sense to my untrained ear. I shot Peg an inquisitive look, and she just shook her head. She didn't seem to be faring any better.
Stush and Adrianna went back and forth a few more times, and then he raised his voice. "Nie mogê ci pomóc. Muszê teraz iœæ. Nie ten numer ponownie." He shook his head in irritation. "Nie mam nic wiêcej do powiedzenia. Dzieñ dobry."
I recognized the last two words he'd said--Dzieñ dobry meant "Good day"--and that was it. By the time he pressed the button that ended the call, I still had no idea what the conversation had been about.
"Oh, dear." He wagged his head as he handed the phone back to Peg. "So sad."
"What's sad?" said Peg. "What did she say?"
Stush sighed. "She's a fan of Eddie Sr. She was calling to ask for his autograph." His face seemed to grow longer by the minute as waves of sadness rolled through him. "She didn't know he was dead."
Peg looked as disappointed as I felt. "Well, thanks for trying, Stush."
"It's the least I can do." He patted her hand and slid out of the seat. "I just wish I could've saved Eddie. It breaks my heart that he's gone."
"Gone but not forgotten." Peg smiled. "Just you wait till the big tribute at Polkapourri."
Stush scooped up the half-empty coffee pot. "He was an angel, you know that? A real angel." Slumping, he shambled off toward the kitchen, the coffee pot bouncing against his thigh.
Peg leaned toward me and whispered. "He wasn't such an angel, you know."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Listen, Lot." She stared at the table. "There's something I should tell you. Something about Eddie Sr. and me."
I didn't like the way she'd said that. "The two of you?" My frown deepened.
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