Polkacide (19 page)

"Hey there, sweetie!" She
looked downright perky, as if she'd had a good night's sleep. It
was quite a change from finding her asleep at her desk the day
before. "Trash pickup in half an hour!"

I held the door for her and followed
her out to the curb. "Need a hand?"

"No, thanks." Peg walked to
the curb and dropped the bags in the grass a dozen feet behind my
car. "You'll be plenty busy today, what with moving Polkapourri to
Valhalla."

"About that..." I searched my mind for
the best way to tell her the move was bogus and Polkapourri was now
homeless.

She brushed past before I
could come up with the right words. "Not to mention our other
situation."

I hurried up the front steps
after her and closed the door. "Is Eddie Jr. here?" I hadn't seen
his truck outside, but I asked anyway.

"Glynne's here. She's
sorting equipment in the storm cellar." Peg said it over her
shoulder as she marched across the gym floor. "But there's no sign
of Eddie yet.

"However, he's already given
us something to go on. That story about the Polish Princes reunion.
Maybe it's important somehow."

I hadn't thought about it
much. I'd been too busy worrying about Luke. "I don't know." I
trailed her up the stage steps. "Who wouldn't want to see Lou and
Eddie Sr. play together again?"

Peg stopped suddenly and
whirled to face me. "Exactly!" She jabbed an index finger in the
air. "Who
wouldn't
want a reunion to happen?"

I shrugged. "One of Dad's
enemies?"

Peg stepped back and
straightened her sweatshirt--navy blue with a Polish Fly emblem
outlined in white on the front. "Why would it have to be an
enemy?"

I stayed there, frowning,
and considered it as she turned and hurried away across the stage.
Was it possible? Could someone close to Lou have stood to gain from
nipping a reunion with Eddie Sr. in the bud?

"A friend?" I jogged after
her through the gray curtains into the office space. Looking
around, I saw that she'd done some extreme tidying up. Most of the
junk and newspapers that had littered the floor were gone, either
thrown out or put away somewhere. Likewise, the heaps of records,
t-shirts, posters, and mementos had disappeared from the filing
cabinets. The mountains of paperwork overflowing the desks had been
reduced to a few neatly stacked and rubber-banded foothills. "Are
you thinking of someone in particular?"

"Not yet." Peg headed for
the desk with the laptop. "I'm just throwing it out there. We need
to consider all the possibilities, right?"

I went to the coffee maker
and loaded a filter with grounds from the big red can beside it.
"But I can't imagine a friend killing Dad. Especially over a
reunion concert. It doesn't make sense."

Peg sat down, switched on
the laptop, and watched the screen flicker to life. "What if it was
more than a reunion? What if Lou and Eddie Sr. were going to merge
their two bands into one? They could sure cut the overhead,
couldn't they?"

I nodded as I picked up the
empty pot. "They wouldn't have room for all the musicians. Someone
would have to go."

"And maybe that someone saw
the writing on the wall. Or maybe he got an early warning." Peg
tapped the laptop's touch pad and shrugged. "Or not. Who knows?
Without some kind of clue, we're in the dark here."

I went off to the bathroom,
filled the coffee pot with water from the spigot, and came back.
"Should we work on a list of Dad's friends as well as his enemies,
then?"

Before Peg could answer, a man's voice
rang out from the far end of Polka Central, beyond the curtains.
"Hello? Anybody home?"

I was surprised we were
getting a visitor so early in the morning. It wasn't even
six-thirty yet.

Frowning, I put down the
coffee pot and whispered at Peg. "Who's that?"

She didn't look surprised at all.
Annoyed, maybe, but not surprised. "We'll be right out, Nunzio,"
she shouted.

Nunzio Caputo.
The notoriously dirty--and popular--city council
chairman who'd played poker with Eddie Sr. the day before. He was
also, according to Peg, one of the names on Dad's enemies
list.

And, as I soon discovered,
he was
very
hard
of hearing. "What's that?" he yelled.

Peg blew out her breath and shook her
head. "On my way, Nunzio!"

"What?" said Nunzio.

Peg rolled her eyes at me and got up
from the desk. "Let the fun begin," she said as she marched past
me.

He was waiting at the foot
of the stage when we passed through the curtains. He was a tall
man, as tall as me, but I found myself looking down at
him.

At a glance, I thought he
was in a state of disarray, like he'd been in a rush to get there.
His curly salt-and-pepper hair looked windblown, his bushy mustache
tousled. His necktie, striped green, red, and white like the
Italian flag, was flopped over one side of his prominent beer gut.
The photograzed lenses of his wire-framed glasses were still shaded
deep red from the morning sun as he gazed up at us.

"Good morning, ladies!"
Nunzio had a deep, resonant voice with a growling undertone like
the revving of an engine. "You are
such
a sight for sore
eyes!"

"Why thank you, Nunzio. Good to see
you, too." Peg raised her voice so he could hear her.

But he couldn't. "What's
that?"

Peg spoke even louder. "Good to see
you, too!"

Nunzio grinned and nodded,
showing off his impeccable white teeth. They might have been
dentures, actually; he was in his late sixties at least, maybe even
mid-seventies. "Wonderful! Marvelous!"

I wondered if he'd heard a
single word she'd said so far. I also wondered how he'd managed to
stay so powerful and popular. Probably coasting on his reputation
from the old days, before the hearing went...or maybe the hearing
loss was just an act. After all, it had its advantages.

"What can we do for you, Nunzio?" Peg
said it loud and overenunciated every syllable. She looked right at
him in case he needed to read her lips. "What brings you to Polka
Central?"

"Poke a general?" Nunzio scowled.
"That doesn't even make sense."

Peg raised an index finger. "Hold on!"
She smiled, but I could tell it was a thin façade. "I'll be right
down!"

The two of us walked down
the stage stairs to the gym floor. Just as we passed the back door
alcove, the door swung open, and Glynne strolled through. Her white
t-shirt and jeans were covered with grime from her work in the
storm cellar. Her red hair was a tangled mess, caked with gray dust
and what looked like bits of straw.

She held out her arms and
flapped her fingers. "Who wants a hug?" Then, her eyes slid past us
and lighted on Nunzio. Her expression changed in a flash, switching
from silly to disturbed. "Oh, wait. I just remembered I left the
fuse lit on a stick of dynamite. Gotta go!"

As Glynne whipped around and
zipped back outside, Peg and I kept walking. As soon as we came
face to face with Nunzio, he turned his back and lumbered away from
us.

I frowned at Peg. Her frizzy
afro wobbled as she shook her head in irritation.

Nunzio took two more steps away from
us, then looked back with eyes narrowed. "What's this I hear about
Valhalla?" he said.

Peg started to say
something, then caught herself and walked over to him. When she was
close enough, less than two feet away, she spoke. "You tell
me."

"No more Polkapourri in New
Krakow." Nunzio balled up his fists, then threw them open with
fingers turned upward. "
Gone.
You're moving it to Valhalla."

Peg sighed. "Who said so?
Father Speedy?"

Nunzio squinted and cupped a hand
behind his ear. "Who?"

Peg leaned closer and talked
louder. "
Father Speedy.
Did you hear it from him?"

"It doesn't matter." Nunzio brushed a
hand through the air. "Is it true?"

"Yes." Peg nodded. "We're
moving Polkapourri to Valhalla this year."

Nunzio turned full around to
face her. "But it
belongs
in New Krakow. New Krakow
is
Polkapourri."

"Not anymore." Peg shrugged. "It's
time for a change."

"What about the
tradition
?" Nunzio
pinched his thumbs and forefingers together and gestured with both
hands. "What about the
legacy
?"

"We're more worried about
paying the
bills
,"
said Peg.

"Paying Bill?" Nunzio
scrunched his face up in the deepest scowl yet. "Bill
who
?"

"
The. Bills.
" Peg's eyes flashed with
impatience behind the magnifying lenses of her polka dot glasses.
"We won't be able to
pay
them if we don't
move
. Father Speedy's
rates
just went through
the
roof
."

"What about Speedy's roof?"

Peg leaned forward and
hollered in his ear. "His
rates
are too
high
."

"And Valhalla's aren't?"
Nunzio looked at her like she was crazy. "It's a
ski resort
, for God's
sake."

"I guess they must want us
bad enough." Peg looked in my direction. "They gave us a great
deal, didn't they?"

"They sure did." Even as I said it, I
felt myself sinking deeper in the quicksand of my lies. It was
getting harder to imagine that there would ever be a good time to
set the story straight.

Nunzio's photograzed glasses
had lost their tint, so I could see his narrowed eyes staring out
at me from behind them. "Just like your father, aren't you? A born
horse trader."

He wouldn't have said that
if he'd known about the failing club. "Not really." And since when
did Dad drive a hard bargain? He always gave in to Father Speedy,
didn't he?

Nunzio's nose twitched. "Lou wouldn't
approve, you know."

I didn't like his tone, but I stayed
calm. "You don't think so?"

Nunzio shook his head sadly.
"He used to tell me, 'Nunzio, my friend. It would send me straight
to Hell if they ever moved Polkapourri. If they ever destroyed my
life's work like that, I know the Devil would claim my soul for all
eternity."

It didn't sound like something Dad
would've said. "He said that, did he?"

"Many times." Nunzio nodded
slowly and clucked his tongue with grave conviction.

When I looked in Peg's
direction, she was shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
He never said that.

"You oughtta think twice about this
move," said Nunzio. "Think what your father would want, eh? This is
his festival, after all. His baby."

"I will." I frowned solemnly. "Thank
you for passing along his wishes."

"What?" I must not have
spoken loud enough for him. "Someone's gassing long fishes?" He
squinted and cupped his hands behind both ears.

"Never mind." I made sure I said that
one loud enough to get through.

"Thanks for stopping by, Nunzio." Peg
led him by the elbow toward the front door. "It's always a pleasure
to see you."

Nunzio stopped and turned.
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "The pleasure is
all mine,
bellissima
." He planted a lingering kiss on her hand and gazed into her
eyes. "All you need to do is call, and I will be at your side." He
stood there for a long moment, clasping her hand in both of his
own, before allowing her to lead him the rest of the way to the
door.

"
Ciao, bella
," he said on his way out
of Polka Central.

As soon as Peg shut the
door, she flung up both middle fingers in a two-handed flip-off
behind him. "Shove it where the sun don't shine,
creep
!"

I couldn't help gaping in
surprise, and not just because of what Nunzio had done. I'd never
seen Peg flip anyone the bird before. "Did he just make a
pass
at you?"

Peg nodded. "It wasn't
the
first
time,
either. That guy's a total
lech.
He'll be slobbering all over
you
if you get too close."

"Maybe he's not so hard of
hearing after all." I shook my head hard to clear out the image.
"So, other than trying to score with you, what the heck was that
all about? What's the problem with moving Polkapourri?"

"What do you think?" Peg
rubbed her thumb and forefingers together. "It's all about
the
money
. We're
pulling the gold mine right out from under him."