Polkacide (37 page)

That was the question I
asked myself as I gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
But the answer didn't come to me right away.

A day had passed since the
fateful confrontation with Uncle Stush. I was backstage at St.
Casimir's festival grounds, getting ready to kick off the opening
night of Polkapourri.

And I was nervous as hell. I
could hear the noise of the band tuning up and the huge crowd on
the other side of the black curtain.

I flirted with the idea of
lighting a cigarette to take off the edge, but that wasn't going to
happen. I was back on the wagon again, committed to quitting for
good this time. My brush with death at the hands of Uncle Stush had
given me a new respect for mortality and a renewed desire not to
end my life prematurely.

But it was true that a good smoke
would've held the butterflies in my stomach at bay.

The commotion beyond the
black curtain grew steadily as show time approached. I was afraid
to peek out, but it sounded like there were hundreds, maybe
thousands of people. Lots of talking and laughter, even some
singing though the music hadn't started yet. Peg said it was the
biggest Polkapourri opening night ever.

And it was up to me to get things
started on the right note.

Did I look the part, at
least? My black t-shirt had the Polish Fly logo in neon yellow on
the back, and a drawing of Dad and Eddie Sr. with their arms around
each other on the front. Jeans and white sneakers rounded out the
outfit. Not exactly polka garb.

My only concessions to
tradition were the bright red and yellow ribbons woven through the
coil of black hair on top of my head. Baba Tereska had wound the
ribbons through my hair in a spiral, then draped the cross-cut ends
over my right shoulder. I had to admit, it was a cute
look.

But was it enough to let me pass for a
polka chick?

"Fifteen minutes, Lot."
Ellie appeared in the mirror behind me, grinning over my shoulder.
"Then it's
show time
, baby!"

Impulsively, I turned and gave her a
hug. "Thanks, Ellie. Thanks for making this happen."

She pushed away, adjusting
her headset. "Don't go getting all
weird
on me, sis. You're not getting
out of the opening ceremony no matter
how
freaky you act."

I laughed and touched the
side of her face. "I'm so proud of you, El."

"Whatever." She rolled her
eyes. "Just don't blow it."

I gave her a big thumbs-up.
"Aye aye, boss. Wouldn't dream of it."

She smirked and checked the
stopwatch around her neck. "
Twelve
minutes." Then she marched away, checking her
clipboard and talking into the microphone on her
headset.

I'd meant every word I'd
said. Without her, Mom, Baba, Bonnie, and Charlie, there probably
wouldn't have been a 25
^th
annual Polkapourri that year. Even
with
them, I was amazed
it was happening.

Uncle Stush had blown a huge
hole in the polka community. People were still reeling from the
loss of Dad and Eddie Sr.

But they were still glad to
have the chance to come to the party. It was the kind of thinking
I'd hated when I'd first come back to town for Dad's wake.
How
dare
those
people hoot and holler and drink and dance when my Dad had just
died?

But maybe I understood it
better now. Because instead of being angry, I was just glad all
those people had shown up.

With some exceptions.
"We
did
it!"
Father Speedy zipped through the black curtain, flashing his
brightest smile. It was the smile of someone who'd gotten
everything he wanted...the smile of someone who'd won a rate
increase instead of a cut.

But he'd taken the cut, all
right. Maybe his conscience had gotten the better of him after my
angry lecture at the police station. More likely, he was keeping in
step with public opinion, which was firmly on my side. He'd never
been one to buck public opinion.

Whatever his motivation, he
clearly wasn't going to let losing keep him down. "We pulled it
off!" He grabbed my hands and bounced them up and down. "We're
really packing 'em in out there!"

"Yes we are." I only said it
with a little bit of an edge. I wasn't going to fight him on this;
if he wanted to act like he was part of the winning team, so what?
I'd gotten what I needed out of the deal.

Besides, he
did
control the festival
grounds. We might not have had a Polkapourri without him. Not that
I was going to remind him of that. Not
ever
.

"I'm on after you, Lottie."
He let go of my hands and patted his thick, wavy hair. "I'll be
doing the benediction."

"That's good." I smiled and
nodded. "Good luck with it."

"Thanks." He started to walk away,
then doubled back. "Say, Lottie." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

I raised my eyebrows. Did he
have one last trick up his sleeve? One more sneak attack to
sabotage Polkapourri?

He met my gaze. "I don't
know what you might have heard...about me." His eyes were steady,
his jaw was set. "But I want you to know you don't have to worry.
I'm working on things. Turning over a new leaf."

"Okay." I guessed he was
talking about drugs and falling off the wagon. "Good." I really
just wanted to drop the subject. For now, at least.

"Thank you. I won't let you
down." He spun and marched off to the opposite end of the backstage
area.

I was alone for all of a
second before Ellie charged past with her stopwatch. "Five minutes,
sis!"

"Ten-four!" I gave her
another thumbs-up and turned back to the mirror. At which point, a
wardrobe-related crisis of conscience took hold of me. Did the
ribbons in my hair make it look like I was trying too hard? Was
five minutes enough time to pull them out without completely
wrecking my hairdo?

The answer became clear when
my next visitor strolled up. Just as I reached for the ends of the
ribbons, Peg called out behind me. "Don't do it!"

Whirling, I saw her approach
in full regalia: white blouse, black bustier, red kerchief with
white polka dots, and matching skirt fanned out over lacy white
petticoats. She was a polka chick all the way, right down to her
red and white polka-dot shoes.

So maybe I wasn't trying too hard
after all.

"Leave them in, hon." Peg sashayed
over, flouncing her skirt. "They look great. Just
right."

"You think so?" I looked in the mirror
and reached for the tips of the ribbons.

Peg swatted my hands away
and laughed. "Hands off! I won't let you go out there looking like
a mess!" She shrugged. "Especially since this might be one of the
last times I see you. I want to remember you looking
nice."

I frowned at her. "What are you
talking about?"

"Well, you know." Peg pursed
her lips and nodded. "This is it, right? We made it to Polkapourri.
You can take your share of your dad's money and run."

"Right." I hadn't thought
about it much in the past few days. I'd had a lot on my mind since
the drama at Stush's Diner.

After Stush's arrest for
attacking us, the evidence had piled up, implicating him not only
for Dad and Eddie's murders, but the deaths of Polish Jews in the
Warsaw Ghetto in the 1940s.

The secret messages on the
record, extracted by Glynne, had told the first part of the tale:
Eddie Sr. had seen a photo of someone who looked like Stush on a
war criminal website; he'd talked Dad into helping him probe
Stush's background, only to find his past was a blank; Stush had
broken down and confessed when they'd confronted him about it;
after which, Dad and Eddie had reported him to a Nazi hunter named
Adrianna in Poland.

The second part of the story
had come straight from Stush after his arrest: how Dad had had a
change of heart, unable to condemn his pal Stush to certain death
at the hands of Adrianna; how Dad had tried to give him a second
chance...but Stush had panicked and killed him. When Eddie had
started sniffing around about Lou's death, Stush had killed him,
too.

The evidence backed up the
story. There was too much to ignore: the results of the autopsy of
Dad's exhumed body, showing fatal levels of insulin, which Stush
the diabetic had access to; the unregistered gun found at Stush's
home, which matched the bullet from Eddie Sr.'s body; and the
packet of Nazi identification papers tucked away under Stush's
mattress.

Uncle Stush, Stanley Dudek,
had once been Siegfried Diedrich, a captain in the German army
stationed in the Warsaw Ghetto.

Even now, I could hardly
believe it. A man who'd been like an uncle to me for most of my
life had turned out to be a Nazi who'd helped oppress and murder my
people.

It was a lot to take in. No wonder my
impending freedom had been the last thing on my mind.

No wonder I hadn't figured out what I
wanted to do after Polkapourri yet.

And it didn't seem like I'd
have the time to think it over now, either. "Two minutes!" Ellie
snapped as she flew past, waving her clipboard.

"So this is it, I guess."
Peg patted her 'fro and smiled sadly. "Great job, hon."

"You, too."

She reached over and shook
my hand. "Now get out there and knock 'em dead. Enjoy your moment.
You deserve it, honey."

I gave her hand a squeeze. "Couldn't
have done it without you."

Ellie flashed toward us. "One
minute!"

"I'm really gonna miss you,
you know that?" Peg reeled me in for a hug. When she let go, there
were tears in her eyes.

And then she turned away.

"Thirty seconds!" Ellie grabbed my
elbow and led me to the curtain. "Ready?"

I nodded.

Ellie counted down from ten.
When she'd finished, she pushed me gently through the gap at the
edge of the curtain.

Suddenly, I was facing a sea
of people. There were thousands of them, all ages and shapes and
sizes, blanketing the festival grounds, all cheering and applauding
at once.

As I walked out, music began
to play. The combined Polish Fly-Kubiak orchestra was on stage
beside me, led by Eddie Kubiak, Jr.--still grieving for his dad,
but not about to let us down. When I looked over, he shot me a sad
smile and nodded, never faltering in his flawless gestures with the
bandleader's baton.

The song was "Hello, Dolly."
The audience sang along, waving white handkerchiefs and changing
the words to "Hello, Lottie," just like the dancers on
Kocham Taniec
had
done.

Down in front, I saw Mom and
Baba Tereska in their yellow Polkapourri staff t-shirts. They were
singing along, too, and Mom was waving her purple
clipboard.

Bonnie and Charlie were
there alongside them, smiling up at me. Instead of singing, they
were alternately chattering over headsets and snapping at the ADHD
Dozen scampering and wrestling around them.

Gazing out at the vast
crowd, I got chills up my spine...the good kind. Unexpectedly, I
felt the pressure of tears in my eyes. Even as I was in the midst
of it, I realized...

It was the best moment of my entire
life.

All those people, singing my
name. My family and friends supporting me. The clouds breaking
after the darkest time I'd ever known. So much joy in my heart
though I'd thought I'd never feel joy again.

It was like a beautiful dream. A
religious experience.

There was a microphone on a stand at
the front of the stage, and I walked up to it. I adjusted it,
tipping the mic up to compensate for my height.

And then I spoke. "Welcome
to the 25
^th
annual Polkapourri!"

The crowd stopped singing and
roared.

Looking back, I gave Eddie a
signal, zipping a finger across my throat. He wrapped up the song
with a last little flurry from the band.

So now it was just me and
the audience. "Thank you all for coming!" My voice echoed over the
multitude, those thousands of people listening to my words. "This
would have meant so much to Dad. It means a lot to me,
too."

Everyone cheered and
applauded.

I wiped away a tear. There
was so much emotion welling up inside me, I could hardly stand
it.

I hadn't planned to say
much, but words poured out of me anyway, coming to me on the spot.
"Since I came back to New Krakow, my life has been turned
upside-down. It's been a terrible time in so many ways."

The crowd listened silently.
All eyes and ears were fixed on me.

"I lost so much." Another tear
streamed down my cheek, and then another. "But I think maybe...I
got something back, too."