Polkacide (8 page)

I gaped at him, stunned.
"Eddie?"

Peg just chuckled. "There's
a reason we call it The Paperweight, Lottie."

"Because in the whole time we've had
it," said Eddie, "we've never been able to get it to switch
on."

I looked at Peg, and she
shrugged. "Lou picked it up second hand and thought he could fix
it, even though he knew nothing about computers."

I nodded. "That sounds like my dad,
all right."

"He was a wonderful man."
Peg gave me one of those piercing looks again, but just for a
second. "I miss him so."

Out of nowhere, I felt tears welling
up in my eyes. I couldn't stop one from rolling out and down my
cheek as she stared at me. "I do, too."

Peg watched me for a moment,
then coughed and headed for the stage curtain. "We'll be back in
two shakes of a lamb's tail."

I wiped away the tear. "I'll be
here."

"Later," said Eddie on his
way past to follow Peg.

"Later," I said, and then I found a
seat and got to work.

Chapter 12

By the time Peg, Eddie, and
Glynne got back, three hours later, I had sorted the crank file
into two piles of letters. One, consisting of death threats aimed
at Polish Peg, was less than a quarter of an inch high. The other,
in which all the letters targeted Dad or Dad and Peg both, was over
an inch and a half high.

As for my mind, it was spinning with
the residue of all those hateful letters. I felt dirty just
thinking about them. So much ugliness over so many years from so
many people, all aimed at a man who lived to entertain and loved
his family and community with all his heart.

And I'd never known about any of it.
I'd never dreamed so much negativity had been pointed in Dad's
direction.

It was enough to put me in a
foul mood by the time Peg came sweeping back into Polka Central.
She showed me her purchase--a new laptop with all the bells and
whistles, plus a printer/scanner/copier--but I couldn't fake being
interested. I shrugged it off, showed her the sorted piles of
letters, and asked her what she wanted me to do next.

At which point Peg gave me
another of those weird, piercing looks. She asked me if I'd had any
problem with the crank file task.

I didn't really want to show
weakness, but I admitted it hadn't been much fun. Even though Dad
was gone, it had been rough reading those vicious threats against
him.

"But it's done now." I
nodded at the laptop in Peg's hands. "Want me to help set up the
new computer?"

"Actually," said Peg, "I
want you to grab a bite with me. Are you hungry?"

"Did someone mention lunch?" Eddie
popped up beside her, rubbing his hands together
eagerly.

"Just Lottie and me today."
Peg turned and headed for the gray curtain. "Just girl
talk."

"But I'm a good listener," said Eddie,
"if a free lunch is involved."

Peg shot him a stern look
over her shoulder. "Call it
boss
talk, then, Ed."

Eddie grinned and spread his
arms wide. "I already
know
about everything that goes
on
here."

Peg parted the gray curtain
and paused before walking out. "How do you know we won't be talking
about
firing
you,
Ed?"

Glynne cleared her throat.
"Ever hear the expression 'quit while you're ahead,' Eddie
baby?"

"As a matter of fact, I
have." Eddie waggled his eyebrows. "How 'bout if I stay here and
help Glynne set up the laptop then?"

Peg called back from beyond
the curtain. "Sounds good, Ed. Are you coming, Lottie?"

Eyes wide, I waved at Eddie
and Glynne and scooted out after Peg, wondering what she wanted to
talk about that we couldn't discuss in front of them.

Chapter 13

By the time Peg and I walked
into Stush's Diner, the Sunday brunch rush was just starting to
wind down. The place was still crowded but not packed, and we
spotted a booth along the windows right away.

I hadn't been to Stush's in
a long time--years, probably--but it looked the same as I
remembered. It was a diner straight out of the 50s, complete with
lunch counter, chrome fixtures, red upholstery, and black-and-white
checkerboard floors. There were Polish touches, too, like the
framed photos of famous Poles and Polish-Americans on the walls,
from Pope John Paul II and Lech Walesa to Zero Mostel and Bobby
Vinton. Polish Lou's photo was right above the register, front and
center; someone had wrapped a garland of red and yellow flowers
around it.

As we headed for our booth,
every single person we passed said hello to both of us. Everyone
was dressed in their Sunday best, fresh from church, and they all
waved or touched us or shook our hands.

Part of me liked the
attention, the familiarity. It was nothing like being in L.A.,
where I was almost always just another face in a great big
crowd.

But another part of me had
to fight to keep the smile in place. Because I couldn't help
wondering if any of those people might have written the anonymous
death threat letters I'd just O.D.'d on at Polka
Central.

Then, it occurred to me: this must
have been how my father felt every day of his life. Always knowing
someone out there hated him enough to threaten his life. Always
wondering who it might be.

Peg and I sat down across
from each other on the red vinyl-upholstered benches in the booth.
The instant our butts hit the seats, gentle sad-eyed giant Stush
Dudek--owner and chief cook at Stush's Diner--appeared alongside
the table. "Lunch is on me, ladies." He wiped his giant hands on
the white apron tied on over his black t-shirt and tan khaki pants.
The logo on the chest of the t-shirt featured Polish Fly's insect
mascot, with the letters R.I.P. underneath...and below that, "Rest
In Polka."

Peg reached beside her on
the seat and lifted her red cloth sling purse with the white polka
dots. "Thanks, Stan, but I told Lottie I'd buy. It's her first day
on the job, y'know."

"Congratulations, sweetie." Stush
stuck out his hand. "Your dad would be proud."

I reached out, and his
enormous hand enfolded mine like a huge warm compress. "Thank you
for saying that."

"However." Stush let go and
raised an index finger in the air. "Your money is no good here
today. Either of you." With that, he turned and grabbed two menus
from a table behind him, then slapped them down in front of us.
"I'll be back to take your orders in a minute. Coffee's on the
way."

As big, sad Stush ambled
away from our table, Peg smiled and fluttered her fingers. "I guess
lunch is on the house then."

I smiled back at her. "He
sure told us, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did." Peg's
clown-wig afro bobbled as she nodded emphatically. Then, she
clapped once and folded her hands on the table in front of her. "So
what do you think so far? About the job?"

I reached for one of the menus. "So
far so good, I guess."

Peg nodded and cleared her
throat. "Good. Glad to hear it."

Just then, Stush's giant hands lowered
steaming white mugs full of black coffee to the table. "Figure out
what you want yet, ladies?" His sad brown St. Bernard eyes gazed
down at us.

"The usual please, Stush."
Peg hadn't even opened the menu.

Stush leaned his willow tree body in
my direction. "What about you, sweetie?"

"I don't know." I stared at
the menu pages in the clear plastic folder, but nothing jumped out
at me. I didn't seem to be hungry for anything in
particular.

"Tell you what." Stush
reached down and closed the menu in front of me. "I'll bring your
favorite--
halupki
.
How's that sound?"

I felt instantly relieved.
"Sounds great, Uncle Stush."

"Trust me, sweetie." Stush
gave me a wink. "You won't be sorry. And we've got incredible paska
and poppyseed kolaches for dessert." He shook his head sadly.
"
I
can't enjoy
them, with my diabetes and all, but I guarantee they'll knock
your
socks
off,
hon."

As he loped off toward the
kitchen, Peg hauled her polka-dot purse off the bench and plopped
it down on the table. "I need to talk to you about something,
Lottie." She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. "About the
crank file."

I frowned. "What about it?"

Peg leaned even closer,
dropped her voice even lower. "It wasn't complete."

I wondered where she was going with
this. "How so?"

"Something was missing." Peg
fished through her purse and came up with a double-folded piece of
paper. "
This
was
missing."

She handed me the paper, and I
unfolded it. Inside was a brief typed note.

"CAN'T YOU KEEP A SECRET,
LOU?" That was the first line. "I THOUGHT WE HAD AN
UNDERSTANDING!"

It was pretty cryptic stuff,
but the next line was the one that made me shiver: "LEAVE ME ALONE
OR YOU'LL BE SORRY...PERMANENTLY!"

For a long moment, I just stared at
the creased note. It was such a small thing, just a few lines typed
on a piece of white paper...yet it was full of ominous
power.

When the initial shock wore
off, I tore my gaze from the sinister words and looked at Peg. She
was watching me with owl-eyed intensity, as if she expected my skin
to turn purple and sprout mushrooms at any moment.

"Why wasn't this in the
crank file?" So many questions came to me, but this was the first
one I felt compelled to ask.

"Because," said Peg. "It
arrived six days ago."

It only took me a moment to
do the math. "The day before Dad died."

Peg nodded. In spite of her
clownish 'fro and googly glasses, she looked fiercely grim. "Tell
me something. You read every letter in the crank file,
right?"

"Yes," I told her.

Peg took the letter from my
hands and shook it. "Did any of them look like this? Did any of
them
read
like
this?"

I thought for a moment, then
shook my head. "So what? Dad got lots of threatening letters from
lots of people."

"But he only got
one
the day before he
died." Peg laid the letter down flat on the table between us.
"
This
one. One of
a kind."

I frowned at my coffee,
which was no longer steaming. "Whoever wrote it missed their
chance, if they were planning to do something."

Peg trained a piercing stare
on me. "
Did
they?"

Just then, Stush ambled up to the
table with a tray of food. "Prepare to be dazzled, ladies. I've got
just what you need right here."

No sooner had Peg snatched
the letter off the table than Stush started plunking down plates.
Peg's "usual" turned out to be a quartered tomato stuffed with tuna
salad on a bed of lettuce. My lunch, on the other hand, was a
fragrant heaping helping of my favorite Polish dish,
halupki
.

My mind was elsewhere,
focused on Peg's cryptic comments about the letter, but the hot
food still made my stomach growl. The
halupki
, or pigs in the blanket,
looked delicious--ground beef and rice filling rolled in cabbage
leaves, stewed in tomato sauce. The steaming food was like a meal
straight off the dinner table from my childhood.

"And don't forget dessert."
Stush swung the tray around behind him and took a bow at tableside.
"Enjoy, ladies."

"Thanks." I managed a little
smile and a nod. I really just wanted him to go away.

Which he did. "Second
helpings are on the house, you know." For once, the sad giant had a
loopy grin on his droopy face as he backed away toward the kitchen.
"So are thirds and fourths."

"Okay then." Peg gave him a
peppy wave, then tacked one on for someone at another table for
good measure. "Hey there, Mary Lou."

Then, she picked up her fork
and knife and started in on the stuffed tomato.

I let three bites pass
between her lips before I reached over and dropped a hand on her
wrist. "What did you mean?" I caught her gaze and held it. "When I
said that whoever sent that letter missed their chance if they were
planning to go after Dad, and you said..."

"Did they?" Peg shrugged.
"Don't you think it's an awfully big coincidence? That letter
arrives, and the next day, boom. Lou's dead."

"But he died of a heart attack," I
said. "He died of natural causes."

Peg's eyes were like lasers,
blindingly focused and intense. "I have my doubts."

Slowly, I lifted my hand
from her wrist. I sat back on the red vinyl bench, hands planted on
either side as if to brace myself. Because the world felt like it
was shifting off kilter underneath me.