I saw where the gun had landed, on a shelf along the wall, and I grabbed it. I stuffed it in the waist of my jeans at the small of my back, and then I went after Peg.
Keeping an eye on Stush in case he came around, I slid my hands under Peg's arms and lifted her shoulders off the floor. Then, I dragged her from the freezer into the kitchen.
And I slammed the door shut on Uncle Stush.
It was possible Peg had a concussion, so maybe I shouldn't have moved her...but I couldn't just leave her in the walk-in. I couldn't feel safe until the two of us were out and Stush was locked inside.
I called 911, told the dispatcher what he needed to know, and then I knelt down beside Peg. I'd been worried that the stray shot from Stush's gun might have hit her...but I saw no bullet wounds.
There was blood on her forehead from when he'd hit her, though. Had the blow done any major damage?
It was impossible to tell at a glance. Her chest rose and fell, so she was breathing. Otherwise, her condition was a mystery.
Getting to my feet, I grabbed a towel off the counter and soaked it with warm water at the sink. Returning to Peg, I wiped streaks and smudges of blood off her forehead.
Then I tried to wake her up. "Peg?" I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to know if she was okay. "Can you hear me?"
No answer.
"Please, Peg." I brushed her frizzy hair back and dabbed her cheeks with the clean end of the towel. "Please wake up."
Tears rolled down my cheeks and dripped onto her face. A sob escaped my lips.
Not once did it occur to me how strange or ironic it was that I didn't want to lose her.
"Can you hear me, Peg? Please wake up." I dabbed at her cheeks some more and stroked the side of her face. "I don't want to lose you, too." Still nothing, no answer.
Then, suddenly, her eyes flickered open.
And she spoke. "What happened?"
A wave of relief washed over me. "Everything's all right now. We caught the killer."
Peg pushed herself up on her elbows. "What about Stush? Is he all right?"
"I've got him on ice." I bobbed my head toward the freezer. "Stush is the killer."
Her eyes flew wide open. "You're kidding!"
"Three words." I counted them on my fingers. "Nazi. War. Criminal."
Peg cocked her head and stared at the freezer door. "Seriously?"
I shrugged. "He did hit you over the head with a sack of frozen pierogies."
Peg frowned. "It wasn't an accident?"
I squinted like I wasn't sure. "Well, I didn't see him hit you."
"How do you know he's the killer, exactly?"
"There was one other thing, I guess." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.
"What's that?" said Peg.
"He pulled a gun and threatened to kill you. I'm pretty sure he was going to shoot us both."
Peg's eyes widened. "Wow. Really?"
I nodded. "I'm just glad Glynne figured out the hidden messages on Dad and Eddie Sr.'s record. If she hadn't texted me in time about Stush being a Nazi, we'd probably both be dead right now."
"No kidding?" Peg shook her head slowly. "We need to give that girl a raise, don't we?"
"You can say that again." I heard sirens in the distance, coming closer. "There's an ambulance on the way. How are you feeling?"
"My head hurts." She scowled. "Please don't tell me the police are coming, too."
"Yeah, but it's a good thing. We solved the murders and caught the killer, and now you'll get to rub Otto's nose in it."
She thought it over and smiled. "Maybe you're right."
"I know I am." The sirens were getting closer.
"You put him on ice, huh?" With a grunt, she sat up. "Permanently?"
I shook my head. "Oh, Peg..." And then everything seemed to catch up with me at once. Tears poured from my eyes, and I couldn't stop sobbing.
"Come here, honey." She reached out and folded me in her arms. "There there." She patted my back softly as I cried into her shoulder. "It'll be all right. Shh. It's okay now."
Then the sirens were in the parking lot. The cops and EMTs would burst in at any second, but I didn't care if they saw me like that. I just kept crying, I just needed to cry.
I was just glad she was there.
*****
Chapter 57
Could I pass for a polka chick?
That was the question I asked myself as I gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror. But the answer didn't come to me right away.
A day had passed since the fateful confrontation with Uncle Stush. I was backstage at St. Casimir's festival grounds, getting ready to kick off the opening night of Polkapourri.
And I was nervous as hell. I could hear the noise of the band tuning up and the huge crowd on the other side of the black curtain.
I flirted with the idea of lighting a cigarette to take off the edge, but that wasn't going to happen. I was back on the wagon again, committed to quitting for good this time. My brush with death at the hands of Uncle Stush had given me a new respect for mortality and a renewed desire not to end my life prematurely.
But it was true that a good smoke would've held the butterflies in my stomach at bay.
The commotion beyond the black curtain grew steadily as show time approached. I was afraid to peek out, but it sounded like there were hundreds, maybe thousands of people. Lots of talking and laughter, even some singing though the music hadn't started yet. Peg said it was the biggest Polkapourri opening night ever.
And it was up to me to get things started on the right note.
Did I look the part, at least? My black t-shirt had the Polish Fly logo in neon yellow on the back, and a drawing of Dad and Eddie Sr. with their arms around each other on the front. Jeans and white sneakers rounded out the outfit. Not exactly polka garb.
My only concessions to tradition were the bright red and yellow ribbons woven through the coil of black hair on top of my head. Baba Tereska had wound the ribbons through my hair in a spiral, then draped the cross-cut ends over my right shoulder. I had to admit, it was a cute look.
But was it enough to let me pass for a polka chick?
"Fifteen minutes, Lot." Ellie appeared in the mirror behind me, grinning over my shoulder. "Then it's show time, baby!"
Impulsively, I turned and gave her a hug. "Thanks, Ellie. Thanks for making this happen."
She pushed away, adjusting her headset. "Don't go getting all weird on me, sis. You're not getting out of the opening ceremony no matter how freaky you act."
I laughed and touched the side of her face. "I'm so proud of you, El."
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "Just don't blow it."
I gave her a big thumbs-up. "Aye aye, boss. Wouldn't dream of it."
She smirked and checked the stopwatch around her neck. "Twelve minutes." Then she marched away, checking her clipboard and talking into the microphone on her headset.
I'd meant every word I'd said. Without her, Mom, Baba, Bonnie, and Charlie, there probably wouldn't have been a 25th annual Polkapourri that year. Even with them, I was amazed it was happening.
Uncle Stush had blown a huge hole in the polka community. People were still reeling from the loss of Dad and Eddie Sr.
But they were still glad to have the chance to come to the party. It was the kind of thinking I'd hated when I'd first come back to town for Dad's wake. How dare those people hoot and holler and drink and dance when my Dad had just died?
But maybe I understood it better now. Because instead of being angry, I was just glad all those people had shown up.
With some exceptions. "We did it!" Father Speedy zipped through the black curtain, flashing his brightest smile. It was the smile of someone who'd gotten everything he wanted...the smile of someone who'd won a rate increase instead of a cut.
But he'd taken the cut, all right. Maybe his conscience had gotten the better of him after my angry lecture at the police station. More likely, he was keeping in step with public opinio
n, which was firmly on my side. He'd never been one to buck public opinion.
Whatever his motivation, he clearly wasn't going to let losing keep him down. "We pulled it off!" He grabbed my hands and bounced them up and down. "We're really packing 'em in out there!"
"Yes we are." I only said it with a little bit of an edge. I wasn't going to fight him on this; if he wanted to act like he was part of the winning team, so what? I'd gotten what I needed out of the deal.
Besides, he did control the festival grounds. We might not have had a Polkapourri without him. Not that I was going to remind him of that. Not ever.
"I'm on after you, Lottie." He let go of my hands and patted his thick, wavy hair. "I'll be doing the benediction."
"That's good." I smiled and nodded. "Good luck with it."
"Thanks." He started to walk away, then doubled back. "Say, Lottie." He rubbed the back of his neck. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."
I raised my eyebrows. Did he have one last trick up his sleeve? One more sneak attack to sabotage Polkapourri?
He met my gaze. "I don't know what you might have heard...about me." His eyes were steady, his jaw was set. "But I want you to know you don't have to worry. I'm working on things. Turning over a new leaf."
"Okay." I guessed he was talking about drugs and falling off the wagon. "Good." I really just wanted to drop the subject. For now, at least.
"Thank you. I won't let you down." He spun and marched off to the opposite end of the backstage area.
I was alone for all of a second before Ellie charged past with her stopwatch. "Five minutes, sis!"
"Ten-four!" I gave her another thumbs-up and turned back to the mirror. At which point, a wardrobe-related crisis of conscience took hold of me. Did the ribbons in my hair make it look like I was trying too hard? Was five minutes enough time to pull them out without completely wrecking my hairdo?
The answer became clear when my next visitor strolled up. Just as I reached for the ends of the ribbons, Peg called out behind me. "Don't do it!"
Whirling, I saw her approach in full regalia: white blouse, black bustier, red kerchief with white polka dots, and matching skirt fanned out over lacy white petticoats. She was a polka chick all the way, right down to her red and white polka-dot shoes.
So maybe I wasn't trying too hard after all.
"Leave them in, hon." Peg sashayed over, flouncing her skirt. "They look great. Just right."
"You think so?" I looked in the mirror and reached for the tips of the ribbons.
Peg swatted my hands away and laughed. "Hands off! I won't let you go out there looking like a mess!" She shrugged. "Especially since this might be one of the last times I see you. I want to remember you looking nice."
I frowned at her. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, you know." Peg pursed her lips and nodded. "This is it, right? We made it to Polkapourri. You can take your share of your dad's money and run."
"Right." I hadn't thought about it much in the past few days. I'd had a lot on my mind since the drama at Stush's Diner.
After Stush's arrest for attacking us, the evidence had piled up, implicating him not only for Dad and Eddie's murders, but the deaths of Polish Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto in the 1940s.
The secret messages on the record, extracted by Glynne, had told the first part of the tale: Eddie Sr. had seen a photo of someone who looked like Stush on a war criminal website; he'd talked Dad into helping him probe Stush's background, only to find his past was a blank; Stush had broken down and confessed when they'd confronted him about it; after which, Dad and Eddie had reported him to a Nazi hunter named Adrianna in Poland.
The second part of the story had come straight from Stush after his arrest: how Dad had had a change of heart, unable to condemn his pal Stush to certain death at the hands of Adrianna; how Dad had tried to give him a second chance...but Stush had panicked and killed him. When Eddie had started sniffing around about Lou's death, Stush had killed him, too.
The evidence backed up the story. There was too much to ignore: the results of the autopsy of Dad's exhumed body, showing fatal levels of insulin, which Stush the diabetic had access to; the unregistered gun found at Stush's home, which matched the bullet from Eddie Sr.'s body; and the packet of Nazi identification papers tucked away under Stush's mattress.
Uncle Stush, Stanley Dudek, had once been Siegfried Diedrich, a captain in the German army stationed in the Warsaw Ghetto.
Even now, I could hardly believe it. A man who'd been like an uncle to me for most of my life had turned out to be a Nazi who'd helped oppress and murder my people.
It was a lot to take in. No wonder my impending freedom had been the last thing on my mind.
No wonder I hadn't figured out what I wanted to do after Polkapourri yet.
And it didn't seem like I'd have the time to think it over now, either. "Two minutes!" Ellie snapped as she flew past, waving her clipboard.
"So this is it, I guess." Peg patted her 'fro and smiled sadly. "Great job, hon."
"You, too."
She reached over and shook my hand. "Now get out there and knock 'em dead. Enjoy your moment. You deserve it, honey."
I gave her hand a squeeze. "Couldn't have done it without you."
Ellie flashed toward us. "One minute!"
"I'm really gonna miss you, you know that?" Peg reeled me in for a hug. When she let go, there were tears in her eyes.
And then she turned away.
"Thirty seconds!" Ellie grabbed my elbow and led me to the curtain. "Ready?"
I nodded.
Ellie counted down from ten. When she'd finished, she pushed me gently through the gap at the edge of the curtain.
Suddenly, I was facing a sea of people. There were thousands of them, all ages and shapes and sizes, blanketing the festival grounds, all cheering and applauding at once.
As I walked out, music began to play. The combined Polish Fly-Kubiak orchestra was on stage beside me, led by Eddie Kubiak, Jr.--still grieving for his dad, but not about to let us down. When I looked over, he shot me a sad smile and nodded, never faltering in his flawless gestures with the bandleader's baton.
The song was "Hello, Dolly." The audience sang along, waving white handkerchiefs and changing the words to "Hello, Lottie," just like the dancers on Kocham Taniec had done.
Down in front, I saw Mom and Baba Tereska in their yellow Polkapourri staff t-shirts. They were singing along, too, and Mom was waving her purple clipboard.
Bonnie and Charlie were there alongside them, smiling up at me. Instead of singing, they were alternately chattering over headsets and snapping at the ADHD Dozen scampering and wrestling around them.
Gazing out at the vast crowd, I got chills up my spine...the good kind. Unexpectedly, I felt the pressure of tears in my eyes. Even as I was in the midst of it, I realized...
It was the best moment of my entire life.
All those people, singing my name. My family and friends supporting me. The clouds breaking after the darkest time I'd ever known. So much joy in my heart though I'd thought I'd never feel joy again.
It was like a beautiful dream. A religious experience.
There was a microphone on a stand at the front of the stage, and I walked up to it. I adjusted it, tipping the mic up to compensate for my height.
And then I spoke. "Welcome to the 25th annual Polkapourri!"
The crowd stopped singing and roared.
Looking back, I gave Eddie a signal, zipping a finger across my throat. He wrapped up the song with a last little flurry from the band.
So now it was just me and the audience. "Thank you all for coming!" My voice echoed over the multitude, those thousands of people listening to my words. "This would have meant so much to Dad. It means a lot to me, too."
Everyone cheered and applauded.
I wiped away a tear. There was so much emotion welling up inside me, I could hardly stand it.
I hadn't planned to say much, but words poured out of
me anyway, coming to me on the spot. "Since I came back to New Krakow, my life has been turned upside-down. It's been a terrible time in so many ways."
The crowd listened silently. All eyes and ears were fixed on me.
"I lost so much." Another tear streamed down my cheek, and then another. "But I think maybe...I got something back, too."
Scattered applause rippled up from the crowd.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself. The words kept coming. "Somebody asked me what I'm going to do next. What are my plans? Where am I going?"
I looked across the stage, where Peg stood, watching.
"Well, it's time I gave them an answer."
I smiled at Peg. It had just come to me. In that moment when I'd looked out over the sea of faces, the best moment of my life, I'd made up my mind.
When I thought of L.A., I knew no one out there cared that my life had crashed. No one would miss me if I stayed away for good.
But here was different. Here, I might be nagged, teased, gossiped about, loved, or hated...but I'd never be forgotten. Like it or not, this place had one thing going for it that no other place in the world could claim.
"Want to know where I'm going?" I winked at Peg, then pointed both index fingers down at the stage. At the ground underneath it. "Right here."
It was my home. For better or worse.
"I'm not going anywhere!"
My home. And it always would be.
This time, when I looked back, Peg was running toward me. As the crowd roared and clapped, she grabbed my face and kissed me on the cheek.
Then she shoved her way in front of the mic. "You heard my daughter-in-law, people! She's staying!"
Tears were still pouring, but they were tears of joy. I thought of Dad, and I knew he'd be happy for me, and that made me even happier. We'd left so many things unsaid when he was alive, but maybe this made up for some of them.
Peg grabbed my hand and pumped it in the air like I was a champion prizefighter. "Let's get this polka party started! Hit it, Eddie!"
I heard the drummer's sticks cracking together, counting out the first beats, and then the band burst back into gear. This time, they played the polka classic "E.I.O."
Dancing with Murder Page 24
