Polkacide (23 page)

Father Speedy shrugged. "The
terms of your deal with Valhalla, perhaps? Are they still to your
liking?"

What was he getting at? "Why do you
ask?"

Father Speedy stopped three
feet away and met my gaze with his dark brown eyes. "There may be
an opportunity for a...joint venture, if you're interested. A
merger of Polkapourri and--Polkagasm--for the benefit of all
involved."

Suddenly, I understood. This
was what Father Speedy had been building toward all along.
"Polkagasm" was nothing but a bargaining tool, a way for him to
call my bluff. It was also a way for me to save Polkapourri without
admitting to the bluff. All I had to do was agree to join our
original polka festival with his fake one, no doubt paying Father
Speedy the higher percentage of the take he'd been
demanding.

I decided to test my theory.
"You're talking about a combined event? With the lower rate we
discussed for St. Casimir's?"

Father Speedy pursed his
lips and shook his head. "St. Casimir's would collect a
higher
rate. After all,
we would be the home site of the event. Polkapourri left New
Krakow.
We
didn't."

Theory confirmed.
The higher rate was still at the top of his wish
list. All of this--the substitute festival, the takeover of Polish
Fly, the gathering of local bigwigs--was designed solely to get us
to cough up the extra money. If I was bluffing about moving to
Valhalla, he was letting me know he held all the big cards, and he
was offering me a way out. If I
wasn't
bluffing about Valhalla, maybe
I'd chicken out and cancel the move after losing our headline
performers. Either way, Father Speedy would win.

Unless I kept up the bluff.
Maybe I could still get him to fold.

But did I have the guts,
with Polkapourri set to begin in three days? Wouldn't it make more
sense to take the easy way out and give him what he wanted? Didn't
I have more important things to deal with right now, like finding
Dad's killer?

"Well?" Father Speedy leaned forward,
hands folded behind his back. "What'll it be?"

Suddenly, a harsh glare
washed over us. Turning, I saw the cameraman and reporter from the
WNKK truck approaching from the direction of the front door. The
cameraman was pointing his video camera right at us, illuminating
us with a single spotlight mounted above the lens.

So now I was really in the fire.
Whatever I said next would be recorded and could be used against
me. Father Speedy sure knew how to put on the pressure.

I took a deep breath and
turned back to meet his stare. My mind raced, and the hairs on the
back of my neck rippled to attention. We were in the middle of a
Mexican standoff, waiting to see which one of us would
blink.

Could there be a more
perfect time for my phone to ring? It vibrated in my hand, and when
I glanced at the screen, I saw it was Luke again. I'd been trying
in vain for so long to reach him, and now he'd called me twice in
the last few minutes.

It was time to wrap this
up.

The options aligned in my head,
complete with pros and cons. I was still torn between them,
uncertain which one to pick. I didn't know what I was going to say
next.

Until the words flew out of
my mouth. "My father is spinning in his grave right now. And it's
all because of you."

I pointed at Father Speedy,
then did the same for Uncle Dupa, Nunzio Caputo, and Basil
Sloveski. "Because of you, and you, and you, too."

Father Speedy looked
shocked, as if I'd caught him completely off guard. The other three
were also dumbfounded.

"Shame on you." I glared at
the crowd of musicians. "Shame on
all
of you."

"What?" said Nunzio. "What did she
say?"

I ignored him. "It's been
less than a
week
since we buried Polish Lou, and you're already tearing apart
his legacy." The glare from the camera grew brighter as the
cameraman moved closer, which was fine by me. He was the only one
in the room who mattered at that moment. "You
vultures
."

"You better watch your mouth, girl!"
shouted Uncle Dupa.

I ignored him, too.
"How
dare
you
drive us out of New Krakow and stage your own polka festival! And
you call yourselves my father's
friends
and
family
?"

Father Speedy's eyes darted
from me to the camera and back again. Grandstander that he was, he
was fully conscious that the scene was being recorded. I could
almost see the gears turning as he tried to think of a way to take
back control.

Uncle Dupa, on the other
hand, was seemingly oblivious to the media. He charged over, gut
jittering under his leather vest, face twisted in a furious glare.
"You're a
liar
!
You're
the
one who's moving Polkapourri out of town!"

Without a word, Father
Speedy caught and held him back with a hand on his chest. Uncle
Dupa ended up looking like the crazy one who had to be
restrained.

And I looked like the calm
and honest one, though Dupa was absolutely right about me being a
liar. "Don't even try to put this on me!" I shook my head, trying
to look as self-righteous as possible. "Haven't you done enough
already, spitting on my father's grave--your own
brother's
grave--and
betraying the polka-loving people of this town on the
25
^th
anniversary of Polkapourri?"

Nunzio, who'd been working
his way over, pushed himself between Speedy and Dupa to scowl at
me. "That's on
your
shoulders, young lady.
You're
the one who said Polkapourri is moving to
Valhalla."

I tipped my head back and
glared at him coldly. "Do
not
put words in
my
mouth to cover your own
lies
."

"This is rich!" Nunzio's
face was flushed, his upper lip curled in a snarl. "You're going to
stand there and
deny
you've made a deal to move Polkapourri to
Valhalla?"

"That's right." I folded my arms over
my chest. "Call Valhalla. They'll tell you the same thing. We've
never even discussed it."

Nunzio and Dupa looked like
they wanted to strangle me. Father Speedy, on the other hand,
looked amused. There was a twinkle in his eye and a trace of a
smirk on his lips. Now that my cards were on the table, I got the
feeling he was enjoying himself.

"How can you people live
with yourselves?" I spun to face the crowd of musicians, and the
camera followed. "After everything Lou did for you, everything he
did for this
community
, how can you destroy his signature event?"

Most of the men in the crowd
looked down or away and shuffled their feet. Some shifted position,
trying to hide from the camera by ducking behind their
neighbors.

"And
you
." I whipped around and glared at
Father Speedy. "Taking advantage of Lou's
widow
and
daughter
. Demanding a bigger share of
the proceeds--which we are
donating
to the new Polish Lou Foundation for Polish
orphans--then trying to
shut down
Polkapourri
when we wouldn't give you what
you wanted." I shook my head and clucked my tongue. "And you call
yourself a man of the cloth."

Father Speedy's eyes widened, but the
smirk remained.

The phone in my hand
vibrated again. How many times was Luke going to
call
, anyway?

It was time to wrap things up. I
needed to find out what was happening on the West Coast.

"Get out of here, all of
you!" I pointed in the direction of the door. "This is private
property! This is
Lou's
property!"

The musicians started streaming out
the door. None of them said a word.

"You, too!" I waved at
Father Speedy, Nunzio, and Uncle Dupa. "Get out with the rest of
the trash!"

Nunzio and Dupa looked like they were
ready to charge me. I could just about see the steam hissing out of
their ears.

But Father Speedy put an arm
around both and led them toward the door. On his way past, he
leaned back and gave me a wink, as if to say, "Well
played."

Just then, the TV reporter
and cameraman rushed toward me. The reporter looked wild-eyed with
excitement; I'd just given her a big story. "Big" for New Krakow,
anyway.

"Miss Kachowski! Lottie!" She pushed a
microphone at my face as the cameraman shot over her shoulder.
"What about the festival? Will there be a Polkapourri this
year?"

"Are you kidding?" I smiled for the
camera. "Not only will there be a Polkapourri, but it will be the
best Polkapourri ever."

"What do you have to say about
Polkagasm?"

"Sorry." I shook my head and shrugged.
"I can't say it in polite company."

Chapter 33

When Polka Central had emptied out, I
brought up my phone and checked the missed calls. There were three,
all from Luke. But he hadn't left a single message in my voice
mail.

I was just about to dial his
number when Peg marched toward me. Her posture was stiff, and she
had a grim look on her face. I thought for sure she was going to
let me have it for my performance at the meeting.

Slipping the phone in my
pocket, I took a deep breath, getting ready to answer for what I'd
done. It was time to admit I'd been lying about Valhalla, time to
take the heat for putting Polish Lou Enterprises on the line by
stirring up Father Speedy, Nunzio, and Uncle Dupa.

When Peg reached me, she did
let me have it--not a tongue-lashing, but a piece of paper. It was
folded in thirds like a letter.

"Guess what came in the mail
today?" She looked at me gravely as she handed it over. "Right
before those
idiots
showed up to pay us a visit."

I unfolded the letter and
read what was typed on it. Instantly, a chill raced up my
spine.

"Geez." I read it again,
shocked and sick to the stomach. I'd noticed Peg wasn't at the top
of her game at the meeting; now, I knew why.

It was a death threat, made out to
her.

I held it up and flapped it. "Did you
call the police yet?"

Peg shook her head. "I didn't get the
chance, thanks to the idiots."

"We should call right away." I pulled
out my phone. "You need protection."

"You think
Otto
would protect
me
? You
are
living in a fantasy
land." Peg sighed. "Anyway, I'm sure it's just a scare
tactic."

"I don't think so." I hated even to
hold the note, but I read it a third time.

NO MORE NOSING AROUND OR
I'LL KILL YOU TOO! JUST LIKE YOUR DEAD BOYFRIEND, AND YOU
WON'T
SEE IT COMING! I
CAN GET YOU ANY TIME I WANT. BACK OFF OR DIE!

"It looks like the note Dad got before
he died." I handed it back to her. "Whoever it is, I think they're
dead serious. I think you're in danger."

Peg sighed again and looked
disgusted. "This day bites. It really, really does."

"Listen to me." I reached
out and touched her arm. "You need to go to the police. Do you want
to end up like Dad?"

"It won't happen if we get him first,"
said Peg.

"But we don't even know who
he
is
." I spread
my arms, then let them fall against my sides. "Basically, we've
got
nothing
at
this point."

"Correction." Peg switched
an index finger back and forth in front of her. "I think we've
found our killer."

"What?" I frowned. "We
have?"

"
I
have." Peg nodded. "While you were
out this morning, I did that research I was talking about. I looked
into Eddie Sr.'s doctors and the meds he might have access to. Did
you know he's been trying to quit smoking?"

"No." Eddie Sr. had been a
smoker for as long as I could remember. He'd even bummed smokes off
me from time to time back when I was still a semi-pro musician in
the polka game.

"Did you know nicotine, in
high enough doses, can kill?" said Peg. "And did you know Eddie
Sr.'s been getting nicotine treatments from a doctor in Pittsburgh?
Experimental
high-dose
treatments?"

"That still doesn't prove
anything."

"It might if they exhume the body and
find high traces of nicotine." Peg raised her eyebrows. "Especially
since Lou wasn't a smoker."