Polkacide (12 page)

"How 'bout you, Lottie?"
said Ellie. "Looking forward to another day on the job with your
beloved Peg?"

As we circled back around to
the same old ground, I'd had enough. "Here's a question for you,
El." I pressed a finger to my left temple and cocked my head to one
side. "If you hate Peg so much, why do you keep acting like you
want to
work
with
her?"

Ellie let out a low, nasty
chuckle. "What're
you
smokin', Lots?
I
never said I wanted to work with her."

"Could've fooled me." I
folded my arms over my chest and looked down my nose at her.
"Maybe
you're
the
one with the girl crush on Peg, not
me.
"

Charlie snickered. "You
always were kind of a
tomboy
, Ellie."

It would've been right in
character for Ellie to go ballistic at that point. One of her
patented looks of imminent rage crossed her features like the
growing shadow of a solar eclipse. I took a deep breath, steeling
myself for the battle to come.

But then, somehow, she
pushed back the shadow. Her expression changed from growing anger
to snarky sarcasm. "Okay, you got me." She patted her hair with a
primping gesture. "I
do
have the hots for Peg. Something about that
frizzy
hair
of
hers..."

With the pressure suddenly
defused, we all laughed. I'd never known Ellie not to go for the
throat when given the chance, but I was glad she hadn't...and I
think the other sisters were, too. Enough beating on each other,
already.

"I think we've
all
got the fever for
that woman, am I right?" Bonnie grinned as we all nodded and hooted
in agreement. "I just hope we can manage to
share
her."

"It's good we keep her in the family,"
said Charlie. "Handed down from Dad to us."

At the mention of Dad, the
mood changed. The grins and laughter faded.

"He'd like it that we're kidding
around." Bonnie took a last drag on her cigarette and flicked the
butt across the yard. "I can practically hear that goofy laugh of
his now."

"Like a barking seal."
Charlie smirked as she lit a fresh cigarette. "With a whooping
cough."

Ellie lit a fresh smoke of her own and
held it high. "Here's to the old man. Until we meet
again."

Bonnie held up her cigarette, too. "To
Lou," she said.

"Prince of Pennsylvania Polkas," said
Charlie, also hoisting her own cigarette in the air.

I waffled for a second,
thinking I should light up just this once in honor of Dad. But I
couldn't do it. The leash was still holding me back.

So I held up my unlit
cigarette, knowing I was breaking a tenuous bond with my sisters.
"To Lou." My voice was strong and steady. Let the Furies do their
worst. "He will always be our Dad."

"
Bezpiecznej podróży
," said Bonnie.
"Safe travels, Dad."

"You can say that again," said Ellie,
and then she lowered the cigarette to her lips and inhaled
deeply.

Bonnie and Charlie smoked,
too, as I looked on. Something about the moment stirred me; my
heart beat faster, and the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my
neck stood up straight.

Here was something I'd
forgotten in my long absence from New Krakow. Something that had
gotten lost in our few contentious encounters over the decades.
Something so surprising, it felt like I was discovering it for the
first time:

The Furies weren't all bad,
and deep down, we didn't hate each other.

But they could still make things hard
for me. I wasn't sure how they'd react if I asked probing questions
about Dad's death. It might be enough to turn them against me
again.

But I had to try. "So when
was the last time you saw him? Before...you know..." I looked at
Bonnie when I said it.

"Three days before he died."
Bonnie smiled. "He dropped by to fix the leaky spigot in the
kitchen. Ended up spending most of his time goofing around with the
kids, of course."

I nodded. "Same old Dad then,
huh?"

"Oh yeah." Bonnie puffed on
her cigarette, then blew out some smoke. "Now I wish he'd stayed
longer. He kept checking his watch. Said he had to meet
somebody."

I tried not to act
too
interested. "Did he
say who?"

"No, but it must've been
important." Bonnie hiked a thumb toward the house. "He didn't stay
to finish the job."

"That's too bad." Determined to keep
the information flowing, I turned to Charlie. "What about you? When
was the last time you saw Dad?"

"A week before he passed, I
guess." Charlie frowned. "He and Eddie Kubiak, Sr. were having a
fight outside the Polish Falcons club. I stopped by to have a drink
and play the pull tab tickets, and there they were."

Again, I tried to sound nonchalant.
"What were they fighting about?"

Charlie shrugged. "I didn't
hear much. Something about 'strikes.' Bowling, maybe?"

I didn't want to push too
hard, but still. "Those two haven't bowled together in years, have
they?"

Charlie scowled, deep in
thought, then shook her head. "If they have, it's news to
me."

"News to me, too." Bonnie
said it through a cloud of smoke. "Maybe you didn't hear
right."

"It's possible," said
Charlie. "They were really going at it, so I didn't stick around."
She knocked ash off the tip of her cigarette and watched it fall.
"I wish I had now, though. Stuck around, that is."

Now that Charlie had said her piece, I
turned to Ellie. "When was the last time you saw him,
El?"

Ellie had a faraway look in her eyes.
"I don't want to talk about it." She dropped her cigarette to the
ground and stubbed it out with the toe of her sneaker.

I knew I shouldn't push, but I kept up
the pressure. "Why?" I tried to sound more sympathetic than
curious. "What happened?"

Ellie looked away. I couldn't guess
what might be going through her mind at that moment.

Just then, Charlie spoke up. "It was a
few weeks ago, wasn't it?"

Ellie spun and shot her a warning
look. Charlie started to say something else, then stopped and fell
silent.

"What about
you
?" Ellie stared in my
direction. "How long has it been since
you
saw Dad alive, Lots?"

Her question forced me to switch
tracks. I thought back, searching my memory to pinpoint the moment
when I'd last seen my father.

And I couldn't think of it right
away.

I hadn't been home in, what?
One year? Make it two.
Over
two. Was that right? Two Christmases
ago?

No. It was
three
Christmases ago.
And the sad part was, I wasn't absolutely sure I'd
seen
him that
time.

So when had it been?
Four
Christmases
ago?
Five
? It had
been so easy to lose track of time when I was on the other side of
the continent, caught up in the obsessions of my own daily
life.

So what would my answer be?
The Furies were watching and waiting. I could always refuse to
answer like Ellie. Or I could think back further, maybe to
six
Christmases ago...or
had it been
seven
?

"
Too
long." Better to keep it vague
this time, I thought. "And I
regret
it. I talked to him on the phone now and then, but
as for
seeing
him...I just haven't been home much."

Bonnie sighed. "Well, I was right here
all along, and I didn't see him enough either."

"Neither did I," said
Charlie.

Was it
eight
Christmases ago? Maybe
nine
? "This sucks. It
really does." As I gazed down at the cigarette Ellie had given me,
I again thought about lighting it. Maybe it could burn away some of
the guilt I felt.

What kind of person doesn't
see her father for seven or eight years? What kind of person
doesn't even
remember
the last time she saw him...and then comes back home after he
dies because she needs money from his estate to save her failing
business? What kind of awful person would do all that?

And how could she bear to live with
herself?

It was yet another question for which
I had no answer.

Chapter 19

I didn't stay much longer at
Bonnie's. The ADHD Dozen were all in various stages of meltdown as
their bedtimes approached. I didn't want to be there when things
got ugly with the kids, as I knew they would.

Besides, I had a stop to make on the
way home. Namely, the convenience store around the corner, where I
picked up a quart of milk.

I needed the milk because I
still had a problem to deal with back at the DeeLite Efficiency
Motel. His name was Ghost, and he'd been at large in my room since
I'd left for Bonnie's place.

Needless to say, I was more
than a little worried when I parked at the motel and walked up to
the door of my room. Ghost could have done a serious number on the
place in the three hours I'd been gone. I didn't know what to
expect.

With the quart of milk in
one hand, I slid the room key into the lock with the other hand and
turned. The bolt slid free of the jamb, and I reached for the
knob.

My stomach tightened as I
turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. What would I find
inside? Shredded sheets, blanket, and bedspread? The stench of cat
pee suffusing the bed and carpet? Slashed clothes, chewed shoes,
and scattered hairballs?

"I'm home." Flipping on the
lights with the switch beside the door, I looked around. And I was
stunned by what I saw. Sure, I'd expected levels of cat-induced
destruction. But I hadn't expected
this
.

I hadn't expected an
undamaged room.

My first thought was that
the cat had gotten out. "Ghost? Are you in here?" As far as I could
tell, nothing had been harmed. Nothing had even been
moved.
The place looked
exactly the same as I'd left it.

I took a deep breath and
smelled nothing unusual. I walked around for a closer look and saw
no damage I'd missed from the doorway.

When I checked the kitchenette and
bathroom, I saw more of the same. Everything was perfectly fine. If
I hadn't known better, I might have thought the cat had never been
there at all.

There was one place left to look for a
trace of him. Setting the carton of milk on top of the
refrigerator, I went to the bed and knelt down beside it. My long
braid fell to the floor as I lowered my head and lifted the skirt
of the bedspread to have a look.

Two glow-in-the-dark green eyes stared
back at me, framed by snow-white fur.

"
There
you are." I smiled. "Thanks for
being such a good kitty while I was away, Ghost."

The cat ducked his head a
little, as if he were nodding. The soft pink shells of his ears
were tipped toward me.

"Guess what? I brought you a
treat." Pushing up from the floor, I got to my feet. Walking into
the kitchenette area, I opened one of the overhead cupboards and
pulled out a blue plastic cereal bowl from the bottom shelf.
"You're gonna
love
this, Ghost."

I picked up the milk carton,
tore open the upper lip at one end, and unfolded the pour spout.
"Mmm, delicious
milk
, Ghost." I poured about a half-inch of milk into the cereal
bowl, then closed the carton and stowed it in the fridge. "Just
what you need for a midnight snack, huh?"

I heard no sound from under the bed
and saw no movement. Ghost was playing it cool.

Carrying the bowl of milk, I
crossed the room to the door, then stopped with my hand on the
knob. "Come and get it, Ghost! Cool, delicious
milk
, and it's all
yours
."

But Ghost didn't show. I
opened the door, put the bowl down on the sidewalk outside, and
stepped well away from it...but the cat stayed under the
bed.

"Go ahead, Ghost." I walked
across the room and leaned my hip against the mini-fridge. "Go get
your treat, honey. There's more where that came from."

Still nothing. I sighed, starting to
worry I might not be able to get the cat out after all. I'd just
assumed he'd like milk enough to run out after it. Maybe what I
needed was a dead mouse in that bowl.