Polkacide (22 page)

She left me a little
shell-shocked. I sat there and gaped at her as she reached for a
package, wrapped in white butcher's paper, and drew it out of the
fridge.

When she turned to face me
again, she smiled wryly. "Now don't look so surprised,
kochanie
."

"I never said I don't love him,
Baba."

Her expression changed to one of
innocent dismay. "You didn't?"

I shook my head and tapped a
finger on the table. "Just because he hasn't proposed, and I'm not
trying to get him to, that doesn't mean we don't love each
other."

"That's good to know." Baba
smiled, pulled a yellow tub of margarine out of the fridge, and
closed the door.

"We've been together three
and a half years." I knew I sounded defensive, but I couldn't help
it. "That counts for something, doesn't it?"

Baba pried the lid off the
margarine, then put it down on the counter. She tugged open a
drawer and pulled out a butter knife, then balanced it on top of
the margarine tub. "So you
do
love him, then?"

I opened my mouth to answer,
then closed it again. She'd caught me off guard with her blunt
question...one of her specialties. That wasn't what surprised me
most, though.

I expected to come back
quickly with an easy reply, one that came without thinking. I
should've told her, without hesitation, that our love was true and
solid.

But the quick answer wasn't
coming.
That
was
what surprised me the most.

Was I having
doubts
?

As if on cue, one of my
phone's special ringtones sounded, signaling that a text message
had arrived. I grabbed the phone, fully expecting to see a text
from Luke on the screen.

But the text wasn't from Luke at all.
He was still off the radar.

This message was from Peg
instead. And it wasn't good. As I read it, I slumped in my chair,
instantly losing all the good vibes I'd been soaking up at Baba's
place. All the negative craziness came flooding back in a
heartbeat.

"
Kochanie
?" Baba stared at me with a
worried expression. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I turned the phone facedown
on the table and rubbed my eyes. I thought about lying, but then
the words came tumbling out. "I made a big mistake, Baba. Now it's
catching up to me."

Baba had a frying pan in her
hands. She put it on the stove and sat down across from me. "What
kind of mistake, sweetheart?"

"I told Father Speedy we
were moving Polkapourri to Valhalla. But we aren't. I was bluffing
to get him to back down on the higher percentage he was asking
for."

Baba leaned her elbows on the table
and met my gaze with her icy blue eyes. "It didn't work out, I take
it?"

I shook my head. My throat
tightened with strong emotion as I told the whole truth for the
first time. "Father Speedy wouldn't back down. Peg thinks I already
made the deal with Valhalla. Nunzio Caputo told me Dad's going to
hell. And now...and
now
..." I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, fighting to
steady myself.

Baba reached across the
table and held my hand. "Now
what
,
miód
?"

"I need to get to Polka
Central right away." I closed my eyes and shook my head. "A bunch
of big shots just showed up to talk about Valhalla. They brought a
lawyer."

Baba clucked her tongue.
"Poor
kochanie
."

"I don't even want to go
over there." I opened my eyes and stared at the table. "I've got
more important things to deal with right now." I caught myself,
worried that I might have put her on the scent of Dad's murder
investigation.

But either she didn't sniff
it out, or she just let it pass. "I wish I could help you,
kochanie
. I wish I could
make it all better."

"Thanks, Baba. So do I." I
sat there a moment longer, putting off leaving. More than anything,
I wished I could stay and watch Baba make scrambled egg and fried
baloney sandwiches with ketchup, just like in the old days. I
wished I could eat and laugh with her, taking my sweet time with no
meetings to rush off to, no missing boyfriends or white lies to
worry about.

But I knew I had to go. My
escape at Baba's couldn't last.

I slid my hand from her grip
and pushed my chair back. "Sorry I can't stay for lunch, Baba.
They're waiting for me at Polka Central."

"Don't worry, Lottie." She smiled.
"It'll all come out in the wash."

"That's what I'm afraid of."
Walking around the table, I bent down and kissed her withered
cheek. "Thanks for the company, Baba. And the
almost-sandwiches."

"Any time." She made a sound
in her throat that sounded like a laugh, and then she reached out
and grabbed my wrist. "Now go clean up your mess. Quit running away
from your problems,
kochanie
."

She was holding on too tight, and I
winced. How could such a frail old woman still have so much
strength? "Yes, ma'am."

Baba released me and waved
at the back door. "Now get out of here before I call your boss and
tell her where to find you."

Chapter 32

When I pulled up in front of
Polka Central, there was nowhere to park. The street was lined with
cars on both sides, expensive models and economy cars wedged bumper
to bumper along the curbs.

I had to drive around the
corner and pull in half a block away. As I walked back to the
building, a TV truck from the local station, WNKK, rolled slowly
past. A cameraman with shaggy black hair and beard was at the
wheel, and a cute brunette reporter in a dressy blue jacket sat
beside him. She looked right at me and said something to the
cameraman as they passed.

The front door of Polka Central was
wide open. I could hear voices inside as I approached.

Just as I reached the front
steps, Glynne slipped through the doorway, looking over her
shoulder. When she faced forward, she saw me waiting below, and her
eyes widened.

She scooted down the steps,
grabbed my arm, and whispered in my ear. "Get out of here while you
still can. They're out for blood!"

I whispered back at her.
"What are you talking about? Where's Peg?"

"Taking a pounding." Glynne
gave my arm a rough shake. "You need to
amscray
if you don't want the same
treatment. Because I guarantee they'll go after
you
if you walk through that
door."

Then, she let go of my arm and jogged
off, heading for her little purple Honda, which was wedged between
SUVs down the street.

And I paused at the foot of
the steps, trying to decide what to do next. I thought about
turning around and leaving, but instead, I put my foot on the
bottom step. I took a deep breath, let it out, then went the rest
of the way up the steps. My stomach churned and my heart pounded as
I walked through the doorway into Polka Central, determined to face
the music.

Just as I walked in, people
applauded...but they weren't clapping for me. They were all facing
away from me, looking toward the stage.

There were about two dozen
of them, all men, most in their fifties or sixties. I didn't
recognize any in the back, but as I worked my way around the edge
of the crowd, I spotted familiar faces up front...all of them bad
news.

Father Speedy, Nunzio
Caputo, and Dad's blacksheep brother, Uncle Dupa, all stood at the
foot of the stage, facing the crowd. Basil Sloveski, the attorney,
was off to one side, leaning back against the stage.

Between the four of them and
the rest of the crowd stood Peg. Her eyes were wider than ever
behind her huge glasses; the expression on her face was one of
extreme agitation.

I started to move toward her, then
changed my mind and hung back instead. Maybe I could get an idea of
what was going on first.

Father Speedy spoke up,
aiming his comments at Peg. "I don't see what you're getting
excited about. You're moving Polkapourri out of town. What do you
care if we replace it with a new polka festival?"

Uncle Dupa pumped his fists
in the air and shouted. "Who wants a
Polkagasm
?" With his scraggly gray
ponytail, black leather vest, and tie-dyed t-shirt, he looked like
a cross between a biker and a hippie.

The crowd roared and clapped
its approval. My stomach twisted when I recognized some of the
applauding audience members as musicians from Polish
Fly.

"Not that we're
married
to that name."
Father Speedy cast a disapproving look in Dupa's direction. "But
can't you see we have every legal right to hold our own
festival?"

"That's right, Peg." Basil
patted his shoe-polish-black pompadour and shrugged. "Legally, you
can't stop us."

"Why would you even try?" Nunzio
Caputo spread his arms wide. "A little competition never hurt
anyone. If anything, having two polka festivals in the region will
only mean more money to go around."

"There isn't room for two
festivals
at the same
time
." Peg snapped out the words. "The fan
base can't support that!"
"Don't worry. You can draw more than enough fans from
Pittsburgh...right, Lottie?" Suddenly, Father Speedy's gaze shot
over and locked onto me.

Until that moment, I hadn't
even realized he knew I was there. I stood silently as all eyes in
the room turned to fix on me, staring with intense
expectation.

I wasn't sure what to say. I
looked at Peg, then Father Speedy, then Nunzio, then Peg. "There's
another festival?"

Nunzio cupped his hands behind his
ears and squinted. "What was that? What did she say?"

Father Speedy ignored him
and spoke directly to me. He looked more radiantly self-assured
than ever. "We're just meeting a need in the community." He nodded
warmly. "People can't imagine there
not
being a polka fest in this town,
bringing them together for true fellowship in the spirit of Christ.
We're going to help them make it a reality."

"One, two, three, four!"
Uncle Dupa thrust his hand overhead and counted out the numbers on
his fingers. "Polkagasm will make 'em scream for more!"

The crowd cheered and
clapped. Father Speedy just glared at Dupa, looking
annoyed.

"Wait a minute!" Peg raised
her voice above the ruckus. "How can you expect us to have a
successful festival when you're stealing our
headline act
?"

"Polish Fly isn't
your
act." Uncle Dupa
puffed out his chest. "
I'm
leading the band now. They're coming with
me
."

Peg planted her hands on her
hips and glared at him. "That's
Lou's
band. Just because you're
his
brother,
that
doesn't give you a
claim
to it."

Uncle Dupa pulled a cigar
from his vest pocket and stuffed it between his crooked teeth.
"That's not what
these
fellas say. They're with
me
, aren't ya, fellas?"

The crowd cheered again. Peg
looked at them and shook her head disappointedly. "You can
have
the musicians,
though I hate to see them go. I can't force them to stay. But
the
name
Polish
Fly is a trademark of Polish Lou Enterprises. And you
can't
have
that."

Uncle Dupa's cigar drooped
in his mouth. He spun and looked straight at Basil.

Basil smoothed his tailor-made
red-pinstriped black suit and shrugged. "I'll have to look into
it."

"You do that." Peg's voice was a
growl.

Suddenly, I felt the phone
vibrating in my pocket. I slid it out and looked at the screen. The
incoming call was from Luke.
Of
course
he'd waited till now to get back to
me.

I was about to make a beeline for the
exit when Father Speedy called my name. "Lottie. I have a question
for you before we go any farther."

I stood there, phone in
hand, torn between taking the call or answering Father Speedy. The
phone vibrated again...but I couldn't just walk away now that
Speedy had called for me. I was in the middle of a mess of my own
making, and I had to deal with it. Luke would have to wait a little
longer. "Yes, Father?"

Father Speedy walked toward
me, smiling serenely. "Is there anything you want to tell us? Has
anything changed since you and I last spoke?"

My personal red alert was
whooping like crazy. Whatever he had in mind for me, it wouldn't be
good. "Like what?"