"You're still my hero, you know." I put away the carton of milk and leaned again the mini-fridge, watching him drink. "You probably saved my life last night."
Ghost didn't even look up, but his ears were perked in my direction. He was listening.
"From now on, my door is always open. All the milk you can drink." I shrugged. "Till it runs out, anyway."
He lapped up the rest of the milk, then trotted over to the front door. He stood there, mewing, until I joined him.
I paused with my hand on the knob, reluctant to open the door after what had happened the night before. Though it was broad daylight outside, and I couldn't see any sign of my pursuer through the peephole, I still felt a jolt of fear.
But then it passed, and I turned the knob. "Will I see you tonight? Maybe I'll pick up some catnip for your reward."
Ghost didn't even look up at me. Typical hero, too humble to accept gratitude.
"I'll be waiting." With that, I shut and locked the door and headed for the shower.
*****
It felt good to get cleaned up, like I was rinsing away the ordeal from the night before. Getting dressed, however, felt like a miniature ordeal all its own.
I'd officially run out of clean clothes. My supply from L.A. had been limited to begin with, and I hadn't had a chance to do laundry all week. I hadn't had time to go shopping as planned, either.
So for the second time in three days, I pulled out the white button-down blouse. A little ironing took out the worst wrinkles. Combined with the jeans I'd been wearing all week, it looked presentable...but made me feel grimy anyway, just on principle.
Gathering up my keys and the manila envelope containing Dad's record, I unlocked the door again and cautiously stepped outside. As far as I could see, the coast was clear, but I wasn't about to be reckless after what had happened to Eddie Sr. Someone could still pop out from behind a car or around a corner and grab me if I wasn't careful.
Closing the door behind me, I walked to my rent-a-car and looked it over. I expected some kind of damage designed to keep me from getting away the night before...but I found nothing. No slashed tires, smashed windows, pried-open gas tank, nothing. My purse was still on the front seat where I'd left it.
Opening the driver's side door, I bent down and looked inside for less visible problems. I popped the hood too, and scanned the engine, hoses, wiring, and other parts. From what I could see, no obvious damage had been inflicted.
Of course, I was still taking a chance when I started her up and headed for work. The bad guy might've snipped a brake line or sabotaged the car in any of a hundred ways I couldn't identify at a glance.
But I decided to risk it. I was already three hours late for work. Stopping at a garage would eat up my morning and maybe put a dent in my afternoon when I needed the time most, on the eve of Polkapourri. Anyway, I doubted the night stalker had bothered to sabotage my ride; he struck me as a more direct kind of guy.
Which isn't to say I didn't drive much more carefully just in case, at least for the first few blocks.
*****
Chapter 50
I drove to Polka Central filled with dread at what lay ahead on that deceptively sunny Thursday. Not only was someone out to get me, probably the same person who'd killed Dad and Eddie Sr., but Polkapourri was one day away, and a mountain of work remained to be done for it.
Not to mention, the authorities were going to haul Dad out of his final resting place.
It was the kind of day I just didn't want to deal with. I wished I could blink my eyes and appear at the end of it without living through the craziness.
Because I couldn't imagine anything good coming out of it. Happy endings just didn't seem to be in the cards.
That was what I thought until I turned the corner onto the street where Polka Central was located.
I slowed down immediately, because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I'd been planning to light up a cigarette, but the idea vanished like a puff of smoke.
Vehicles were parked up and down both sides of the street and even on the lawn around the building. People of all ages were working everywhere, hurrying around and in and out of Polka Central. There were dozens of them, all busy painting signs, fixing booths, packing boxes, loading trucks.
Getting ready for Polkapourri, in other words.
A car pulled out, and I took its space. As I got out and walked toward Polka Central, everyone I passed waved and said hello. A few people even clapped.
Where had they all come from? Who could've possibly convinced them to help with the polka festival?
"It's about time you showed up." My sister Ellie stood in the front doorway wearing a black Polish Fly t-shirt and red shorts, sneering down at me. "Thought you might sleep the whole day away. Were you out all night on a bender or something?"
Was it possible? Had Ellie, of all people, pulled together this group effort? "This is incredible, Ellie. Where did all the people come from?"
Ellie rolled her eyes. "From their moms and dads, of course! You haven't had your caffeine yet, have you?"
I walked up the front steps and stood beside her on the stoop. "I just didn't expect all this. Everyone's so busy and organized."
"What can I say?" Ellie folded her arms and cocked her head. "When you've got it, you've got it. Did you think I was gonna let my big sister down?"
"Well, I'm impressed." I nodded and waved at two silver-haired guys as they passed with a load of boards. "Maybe Polkapourri has a chance after all."
Ellie laughed and elbowed me in the side. "Nah, it wasn't me." She threw an arm around my shoulders and shouted as she led me into Polka Central. "Hey, boss! Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!"
The place was even busier and more crowded inside. Teams of housewives, kids, and senior citizens wrapped cookies and candy on long tables. Other teams folded and boxed t-shirts, stuck price labels on CDs, and folded, stapled, and stacked programs fresh out of a copying machine.
The hubbub of all those people talking, laughing, and working mingled with the sounds of musicians tuning their instruments. To my amazement, I saw the members of Polish Fly playing side by side with the members of Eddie Sr.'s band. Some of them were up on stage, working with Glynne on sound and recording equipment.
My heart swelled as I took it all in. I'd never imagined seeing so many volunteers so hard at work on Polkapourri.
Charging out of the heart of it all, armed with a purple clipboard, was Mom. "Lottie!" She wore a lemon yellow Polish Fly t-shirt, bluejeans, and work boots. Her brown hair, instead of being pulled back in a bun, hung loose around her flushed, beaming face. "What do you think?"
Impulsively, I gave her a big hug. "How did you do all this in such a short time?"
Mom pulled back and grinned at Ellie. "It's all about family, honey! You have your sisters to thank!"
Ellie shook her head. "Thank Mom for being such a manipulative slave driver. I knew she was good at guilting us into doing things, but I never knew she was this good."
"I made a few phone calls." Mom giggled. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her so downright bubbly. "Called in a few favors."
"Kicked a few butts. You should've heard her screaming." Ellie slapped her on the back. "I'm proud of you, you're so nasty."
"I learned from the best, sweetie!" Mom pressed her cheek against Ellie's and grinned so hard, her nose crinkled.
"I owe you for this, Mom." Looking around, I still couldn't get over how many people were there and how busy they were. After everything that had happened over the last few days, it was like a miracle. "I owe you big time."
"No kidding." Mom winked and punched me lightly in the arm. "You can start paying me back by getting to work! Pick a job, any job."
"Actually..." I held up the manila envelope. "...I have to work on this first. I need to talk to Glynne."
Mom lost a little of her bubbly glow. "Right, okay." She pointed a finger toward the stage. "She's packing the lights and sound
system."
"Thanks, Mom." I kissed her on the cheek.
"What's that all about?" Ellie made a grab for the envelope.
But I swept it out of reach. "It's a surprise."
"Tell me or I'll punch your lights out!" Ellie snarled and shook a fist in my face.
"You've been hanging around Mom too long." I laughed and walked away. "She's a bad influence."
Moving on through the crowd, I saw Bonnie hard at work stitching up some torn red stage skirting. Charlie and a bunch of the ADHD Dozen were on the floor near the stage, painting and decorating a glittering backdrop. Milly and Little Louie both looked up and gave me big happy waves as I passed.
I didn't spot Baba Tereska till I got onstage. She came hobbling out of the office area, one hand on her cane, the other gripping a conductor's baton. As I approached, she went after the handful of musicians hovering around Glynne and whacked one of them on the head with the baton.
"Shake a leg, you goldbrickers!" Baba Tereska hit one of the other guys, who cried out. "Rehearsal starts in five minutes!"
"But we're checking out this gear," said a third guy.
She hit him, too. "What good will that do if you can't play music? Do you want the first time the combined Polish Fly/Kubiak Attack have ever played together to be opening night of the 25th annual Polkapourri, in front of thousands of people?"
The musicians sighed, shook their heads, and shuffled off across the stage with Baba Tereska at their heels. She gave the slowest one a smack on the butt for good measure, then looked back over her shoulder and gave me a big wink. Like Mom, she seemed to be having more fun than she'd had in ages.
Glynne, who was crouching over a mixing board, laughed and slapped her knees. "I have got such a girl crush on Baba Tereska!"
"You and me both." I nodded as I watched Baba drive the men down the steps with her baton. Then, I turned my full attention to Glynne. "Say, could you do me a huge favor?"
"Absolutely not." Glynne snorted and kept working on the mixing board. "What do I look like? Your employee or something?"
"Yes, actually." I hunkered down beside her and waved the manila envelope in her face. "But this is so cool, you'd want to do it even if you weren't working for me."
"In that case, gimme!" She snatched the envelope out of my hand.
Before she could open it, I grabbed hold of her wrist. "Just one condition, Glynne. This is top secret, okay? You can't tell anyone."
"All right already." Glynne rolled her eyes. "You can be a real buzzkill sometimes, you know that?"
"Careful, it's fragile." I let go of her wrist, and she opened the envelope. When she slid out the record, her eyes got big.
"A 45?" She dropped the envelope and stared at the shiny black disk. "Complete the following sentence: this record is cool because..."
"...it's a new recording by Polish Lou and Eddie Kubiak, Sr." I locked eyes with her and nodded grimly. "True story."
Glynne shook her head hard, like she was trying to clear away cobwebs. "Stop jerking me around."
"I'm not jerking you." I pointed a finger at the record. "That is the only known copy of the last recording session of Lou and Eddie before they died."
Glynne gingerly turned the 45, making the reflected light shift across its surface. "If I lose it?"
"It's better if you don't know." I raised an eyebrow and tipped my head forward.
"Remind me to never do any favors for you again, 'kay?" Glynne shook her head slowly. "Speaking of which, what's the favor?"
"Can we play this?" I nodded at the record. "Not over the P.A. system, though."
"If you help me set up," said Glynne. "I just got done tearing down and packing all my gear."
*****
We hooked up a turntable in the office area, out of sight, and played the 45. All it took was one listen, and Glynne was on board.
"Those runs of gibberish in the bridge sound like some kind of audio on fast forward." Glynne was jotting notes on a pad as she spoke. "Maybe someone's voice."
I nodded. "That's what I thought, too. Can you isolate and slow them down?"
"Absotutely!" Glynne clapped her hands and hurried past me. "Let me just grab a USB cable and my laptop. Once I rip it to the laptop, I can do pretty much anything with it."
She rushed through the curtains, leaving me standing there feeling relieved. If she could decipher the gibberish, we might finally have a clue to the killer's identity. We might actually solve the murders in time for Polkapourri.
For once, I felt like I was covering the bases.
Then, I heard footsteps on the other side of the curtains. I assumed they were Glynne's, and I watched for her to push her way through...but Glynne wasn't the next person I saw.
"Hey, Lot." It was Peg, looking like she'd just staggered out of a train wreck. "Mind filling me in?"
At which point, I realized I hadn't covered all the bases after all.
*****
Chapter 51
"You found it!" Peg pointed at the 45 on the turntable. "Where was it?"
"Mom had it." I nodded. "Sorry I didn't call to let you know, but things have been crazy."
"No worries. I've got surprises for you, too." Peg walked over and sank onto one of the desk chairs. "I think I'm finally on to something."
"Me, too." I told her about "Polka Strikes Back" and Glynne's plan to decipher the fast-forward gibberish. "I think Dad and Eddie left a message for us."
Peg yawned and rubbed her face. "Actually, I have an idea what it might be about."
Just then, the band started playing in the gym. I had to pull up a chair beside her so we could hear each other. "What's your idea?"
Peg blinked her bloodshot eyes. "Eddie Jr. was in bad shape last night. I went to ask him a few questions and ended up staying all night to talk him through it."
I felt a twinge of jealousy, which weirded me out. Eddie and I were ancient news, weren't we?
"Anyway, he told me something pretty interesting." She fiddled with her tangled, floppy 'fro, which had seen better days, then gave up and plopped her hands in her lap. "You know your dad tried to get Father Speedy fired years ago, right? But did you know why he did it?"
As I shook my head, Glynne came back through the curtains with a laptop and a USB cable. She took a quick look at the two of us, then went to a far desk to set up her gear.
Peg watched her go, then turned back to me. "Father Speedy was a drug addict. He got addicted to painkillers. Everyone looked the other way except Lou."
The band stopped playing in the gym, then started up again after Baba Tereska yelled at them.
Peg kept talking through the din. "Lou used all his influence against Speedy, but he couldn't take him down. So Speedy just got worse. Then, one day, there was a hit-and-run accident. Eddie's wife's car was t-boned, and she ended up with crippling back injuries. They never found the other driver." Peg raised her eyebrows behind her huge polka dotted glasses. "But Lou and Eddie always suspected it was Father Speedy."
I listened, amazed at what I was hearing. I'd never known about Speedy's drug use or possible involvement in the hit-and-run.
"After that, Speedy cleaned up his act." Peg leaned closer. "Until recently. I guess Eddie Sr. heard he'd fallen off the wagon."
Glynne walked over and interrupted. "'Scuse me. Can I just get this?" She tapped the turntable. When we both nodded, she unplugged it and carried it to the desk where she'd set up the laptop.
"According to Eddie Jr., his dad went to Lou for help to get evidence against Speedy and take him down." Peg nodded. "They came up with a plan and went to a third person for extra help."
I was hanging on every word. "Who?"
"Stush Dudek." Peg nodded grimly. "The three of them were working together to get dirt on Speedy. Now two of them are dead."
"Oh my God." A bitter chill swept over me as the implications hit home. One person had been in the forefront of my life over the past week, making things difficult, but I'd never suspected him of murder
.
Not Father Speedy. I'd never pegged him as a killer. Sure, he was greedy and hard-headed and obnoxious--even cutthroat--but I'd never imagined him taking a life.
Until now.
And if Stush was the only survivor of the three men who'd been investigating him...
"We need to warn Stush!" My heart was pounding, my blood rushing with adrenaline. "If Speedy killed Eddie Sr. yesterday and came after me last night, we don't have much time! He's tying up loose ends in a hurry!"
Peg scowled. "What happened last night? Someone came after you?"
"At the motel." I clenched my hands around the arms of the chair. "Someone came out of the shadows and ran after me. A man, I think. I barely made it into my room in time."
"What did he look like?"
"I couldn't tell." I shook my head hard. "He was wearing a trench coat and ball cap."
"So it could've been Father Speedy?"
"Yeah, sure!" I got up from the chair. I couldn't sit still another second, knowing Uncle Stush might be in danger. "Have you at least called Stush?"
Peg shook her head and pulled out her phone. "I haven't slept in two days. I must not be thinking straight." She dialed and listened, then grimaced. "No answer at the diner."
My breaths came fast and short. I felt like I was going to explode. "We've got to go!"
"Go where?" Glynne spoke up from the desk where she was working.
"Stush's Diner!" I already had my car keys in my hand. "It's a matter of life and death!"
"Should I keep working on the record?" said Glynne.
"Call my cell if you find anything!" I shouted as I bolted through the curtains. I didn't look back, but I heard Peg running close behind.
As we ran the obstacle course of Polka Central, dodging people and boxes and tables over a soundtrack of "In Heaven There Is No Beer," I could think only one thought, like a neon sign flashing in the front of my mind:
Dancing with Murder Page 22
