Polkacide (18 page)

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?"

"None whatsoever." Eddie
grinned and waved in the direction of the front door. "Now go on
and get outta here. I'll shut off the lights and lock the place
up."

"Thanks, Eddie." I started across the
stage. "See you in the morning."

"You bet," said Eddie
Jr.

As I headed down the stairs
to the battered gym floor of Polka Central, I heard Eddie's
footsteps marching across the stage behind me. When I looked back,
all I saw was the gray curtain fluttering in the stage right wing,
where he'd pushed through to get to the breaker box.

Looking at that curtain, I
felt a strange pang...an emptiness in my stomach. Did it have
something to do with Eddie Jr.?

I was suddenly thinking of
the old days when we were together--but maybe that was just a
yearning for simpler times. A yearning for youth. It couldn't have
been anything more.

Because Eddie Jr. and I were
over centuries ago, and I had never looked back. There was too much
to deal with in the here and now to waste time digging up long-dead
feelings and all the baggage that came with them.

It was better to keep moving forward.
It was the only way I'd ever find my father's killer.

And, hopefully, help Polish Lou rest
in peace.

Chapter 27

Ghost the cat was waiting
for me when I got home. As I pulled up and parked the red Hyundai
at the DeeLite Efficiency Motel, I saw him pacing back and forth
outside the door of my room. His bright green eyes flashed in the
beams of my headlights.

When I walked to the door,
he went straight for my legs, rubbing his white-furred body against
them. He purred, and I could feel the soft rumbling through my
jeans. It was nice, though I was pretty sure he wasn't there just
for affection.

"Thought you'd pay another
visit to the milk bar, huh?" His ears flicked at the sound of my
voice, but he didn't look up at me. "Well, what makes you think the
free drinks will keep on coming?"

As if on cue, Ghost mewed.
He dragged himself one way, then the other against my
legs.

"Is that so?" I planted my
hands on my hips, as if the pose would mean anything to him. "You
think you're some kind of V.I.P.? You don't have to pay your way
like the rest of us?"

Ghost mewed again, and I smiled. He
was playing me, but the distraction was welcome.

"Oh,
I
see." I jingled my keys, and he
stopped pacing and gazed up at me. "Why didn't you
tell
me you were king of
the world in the
first
place?"

This time, Ghost let out a
full-voice meow instead of a mew. He was certainly in a talkative
mood.

And I was glad for the
low-stress company. But not in a hurry to let him into my room
again. "Stay there, Your Majesty." I pointed at him and spoke
sternly, hoping he'd get the message. As I turned my key in the
lock on the doorknob, I never took my eyes off him. "I'll be right
back with your royal toast, Sire."

Ghost meowed but didn't move
toward me. I didn't have to block the gap as I pushed the door
open, but I did, just in case he had an impulsive change of
heart.

As soon as I squeezed through into my
room, I shut the door. Mission accomplished...so far,
anyway.

I headed straight for the
kitchenette and washed His Majesty's blue cereal bowl, which I'd
left in the sink that morning. Pulling the carton of milk from the
mini-fridge, I poured a half-inch into the bowl, just like the
night before.

Then, cracking the front
door, I slipped outside and put the bowl on the sidewalk. "Dinner
is served, King Ghost, sir. Sorry it's in such a humble bowl, but
the diamond-encrusted solid gold one with the
sapphire-and-ruby-studded saucer is at the jeweler's for a
cleaning."

Ghost had nothing more to say at this
point. The second the bowl hit the pavement, he thrust his snout
into it. From then on, he was all about the lapping.

Seeing my chance to solve a
mystery, I crouched beside him. I ran my hand lightly over his
soft, white fur, hoping he wasn't a touchy eater.

He ignored me and kept
lapping. I kept petting him, leaning closer all the while, peering
at his red collar. If only I could find out who his owner
was...maybe even an address or phone number.

But all I saw were
rhinestones. The gold nameplate was turned downward, away from
me.

Could I rotate it toward me
without spooking him? Gently, I pinched the collar between my thumb
and forefinger. Ever so slowly, I turned it, tugging the red band
clockwise through his fluffy fur.

That lasted all of a second.
Ghost's head snapped up suddenly, and he darted right away from me.
I'd pushed him too far.

Without pausing, he
scampered off around the corner and was gone. So much for
solving
that
mystery, at least for now.

And so much for the company,
too. Which suddenly struck me as a bigger missed opportunity than
the clue. Maybe I
didn't
want to be alone tonight, after all.

In which case, maybe it was time for
an overdue phone call to the West Coast.

Leaving the milk out for
Ghost, I went back into my room and closed the door behind me. My
purse was on the dresser, right where I'd dropped it when I'd come
in for the milk. I fished out my phone--and saw that the screen was
dark. The power was off.

Not good.
Thinking back, I realized I'd never turned it on
that day. I'd been too busy and had had too much on my mind; I'd
switched it off the night before, and it had stayed that way ever
since.

As I pressed the power
button, a feeling of dread crawled through me. God only knew how
many messages had piled up in my voice mail inbox.
Anything
could've
happened while I wasn't paying attention.

I hated to look, but I did.
As soon as the phone cycled past the introductory screen to the
function menu, I tapped the icon for voice mail. An image of a
mailbox appeared, with the number of new messages listed below
it.

That number was
zero.

I couldn't believe it. I
hadn't checked my voice mail for close to twenty-four hours,
and
no one
had
left me a message.

I was especially surprised
that Luke wasn't on there, begging for a status report and good
news about my inheritance. It wasn't like him, in the heat of a
crisis, not to bug me.

Maybe he'd called, even if
he hadn't left a message. Switching out of voice mail, I checked
the number of missed calls that had come in--and again, I was
stunned. According to my phone, Luke hadn't even tried to call me
once that day.

My heart beat faster as I
wondered what was going on. Was Luke holding back because I'd been
putting him off? After all, I hadn't talked to him since Saturday;
he'd called Sunday, and I hadn't answered or called back. Maybe he
was giving me a taste of my own medicine.

Or was it more than that? Had
something happened? Had something gone wrong in a big
way?

Our dance club, Beat Down,
was running out of time. Luke had been trying to get an extension
on our loan payment. Had the bank done the opposite instead and
pulled the plug prematurely? It would explain why Luke was on radio
silence.

I knew one thing for sure:
it was time to call my boyfriend. Opening my contacts list on the
phone, I scrolled down to Luke's number and pressed the button to
dial. Then, I waited while it rang.

And I waited some more. No
answer.

Luke's voice mail picked up,
and I left a message. "Hi, honey, it's me. Haven't heard from you
in a while. Is everything all right? Please give me a
call."

My heart was pounding as I
hung up. I was probably worrying too much; there were lots of good
reasons that might explain why he wasn't answering. But
still.

There was a knot in the pit
of my stomach. I had a bad feeling about this.

So I called him again. I
tried three more times, in fact...and the result was always the
same. Luke's phone rang six times, then went to voice
mail.

Giving up on his cell, I
moved on to the number for the club. Nobody answered there, either.
It wasn't cause for panic, as Beat Down was closed Monday nights,
but it did make me worry more. Luke was almost always there,
working on one thing or another, whether the club was open or
not.

I finally gave up and put
down the phone. But as I got ready for bed, I couldn't stop
thinking about Luke's silence. Just a day ago, I'd let one of his
calls go to voice mail; I hadn't wanted to deal with his
stressed-out fretting about the club and his need for constant
updates on my inheritance situation.

Now that
he
wasn't taking
my
call, I desperately wanted to talk
to him. I needed reassurance that he was okay, that nothing
terrible had happened.

Because as much as he drove
me crazy sometimes, as much strain as the failing club had put on
our relationship, I still cared about him. And the last thing I
needed right now was another mystery to deal with, especially one
that was based in L.A., over two thousand miles away.

Though that was exactly what
I'd been given.

Chapter 28

The milk bowl outside my
door was empty when I woke the next morning. It was also
upside-down. I had no way of knowing if Ghost had drunk it dry and
flipped it over, or another animal had done it, or something or
someone else had upended it and spilled the contents.

But I hoped Ghost had drunk
his fill. And I hoped I hadn't driven him away for good. I couldn't
stand to lose contact with anyone else just then.

Speaking of contact, I
checked my voice mail for messages as soon as I woke up...but there
were none. I couldn't call Luke yet, either; I'd gotten up at five
in the morning, which would be two A.M. West Coast time. As anxious
as I was about Luke's radio silence, I thought it would be better
to wait and try again later.

Instead, I made coffee,
showered, fixed my hair, and dressed for work. I put on the last
decent outfit I'd packed--a button-down black blouse with
tone-on-tone pinstripes and collar--and made a mental note to stop
at the store and buy some clothes on my way home that night. I'd
packed three days' worth, and now I needed enough to get me through
a full week.

Gulping my coffee, I hit the
road with time to spare. I pulled in at Polka Central a full five
minutes before six o'clock. Peg's beat-up white Oldsmobile was
already there, along with a purple Honda that I guessed belonged to
Glynne, but according to the clock I wasn't late.

Even so, it looked like I'd missed a
lot of activity. I counted at least twelve big black garbage bags
piled along the curb, all stuffed to the limit.

As I walked up the front
steps and opened the door, I felt a little apprehensive. Would Peg
still be upset about Dad keeping his planned reunion with Eddie Sr.
a secret from her?

The answer appeared to be
"no." Peg greeted me at the door with a bag of garbage in each
hand...and a big smile spread across her face.