Polkacide (4 page)

Too bad I wasn't staying for
extra innings. "Good night, Mom. Good night, Baba Tereska."
Smiling, I turned and continued down the walk toward my rent-a-car,
a red Hyundai four-door parked along the street.

Baba called after me just as
I stepped off the curb. "You'll do the right thing,
kochanie!
I know you
will! Because who wants to be
blamed
for tearing apart a
family
?"

"Don't listen to her,
Lottie!" said Mom. "She should
talk
, after the way her
son
did a number on
us!"

"Good night, Mom!" I said.
"Good night, Baba!" Then, I used the remote control to pop the
locks on the rent-a-car, a red Hyundai Sonata.

Mom and Baba were still squabbling
when I got in the car, shut the door, and drove off into the New
Krakow night.

Chapter 6

By the time I got to the
DeeLite Efficiency Motel outside town, it was after midnight. I was
so tired as I parked in front of my room and trudged inside that I
didn't think I could stay up long enough to slip out of my clothes
and brush my teeth.

So I kicked off my shoes and
collapsed on the bedspread in my black dress and hose. Didn't
brush, didn't take off my makeup, didn't order a wakeup call or
turn off the lights. I just didn't have the energy.

But as soon as my head hit
the pillow, my mind started working at quantum speed. The day's
events circled like vultures, and I couldn't look away.

Was my dad really dead and
buried? It didn't seem possible. Yet the weight of it burned in my
gut, dragging me down with terrifying inevitability.

I couldn't stop thinking
about him. Memories of him when he was alive tangled with memories
of his body in the casket at the funeral home. Always, the people
of New Krakow drifted through the background, sometimes grieving,
sometimes grinning, sometimes dancing.

Suddenly, my cell phone
started beeping. Though I was wide awake, I almost didn't answer
it. For one thing, it was all the way across the room in my clutch
purse on top of the mini-fridge.

For another thing, I had a
pretty good idea who was calling. After all, it was just 9:30 on
the West Coast, three hours behind Pennsylvania.

I knew who it had to be, I knew what
he was going to say, and I wasn't in the mood to hear
it.

I also knew he wouldn't give
up, but I let it go to voice mail anyway. Sure enough, a few
seconds after the phone emitted its voice mail "whoosh," it started
ringing again.

I thought about switching
off the power for the night, but I knew the caller would just dial
the front desk at the motel and have the night clerk patch him
through on the land line in my room. He was persistent, which was
one of the things I'd loved about him.

At first, anyway.

With a sigh, I dragged
myself off the bed as the cell went to voice mail a second time.
When it started a third ring cycle, I picked it up and opened the
line with the press of a button.

And there he was. My fiancé.
"Lottie?"

"Hello, Luke." I wasn't
feeling enthusiastic about this call, and I didn't try to fake it.
"Is everything all right?"

"Sure, yeah." Luke was trying to sound
laid back, but I knew better. I picked right up on the stressed out
undercurrent; it had been there for months now. "How you holding
up?"

"Could use a cigarette,
actually," I said. "Make that a carton of them."

"Don't fall off the wagon,
hon," said Luke. "You've got lots of good reasons not to smoke,
remember."

He was right. I thought of Baba
Tereska's wet cough and the oxygen tank she sometimes used, and I
nodded. "I remember."

"Is everyone treating you
okay?" Luke knew I'd been worried about facing the Furies, the Tag
Team, and especially Polish Peg.

"They're treating me fine."
No need to go into detail. Better to get this call over with so I
could try to get some sleep. Better to get to the point.

Luke was on the same
wavelength. After a moment's pause, he asked the question I knew
had been foremost in his mind. "So, uh...can you get it? The
money?"

I closed my eyes. Money was
my ulterior motive for being there; it was the reason I'd planned
to come home even before Polish Lou had died. Without more of it,
the dance club Luke and I owned, called Beat Down, would go under
fast.

Unless, of course, Polish
Peg and I worked together for one week, and I talked her into
liquidating Dad's polka empire. But I wasn't ready to talk about
that with Luke just yet.

It seemed like a long shot,
and I didn't want to get his hopes up. I also didn't want him
pressuring me to go through with it. The last thing I needed right
now was a constant stream of phone calls demanding status
reports.

So I decided not to get too
specific. "I've got nothing to tell you. Today was just the
funeral, you know."

Luke sighed. I could
practically see the worried grimace crawling onto his face. "Do you
think you might find out tomorrow?"

"No idea, Luke." I couldn't
keep the irritation out of my voice. "I kind of have to go with the
flow here, you know?"

"Sorry." I pictured him
leaning on the desk in the back room of Beat Down, clawing at his
blond hair the way he did when he was agitated. "It's just...we're
running out of time here."

I was all too aware that the
clock was ticking. The only thing I could do about it was work with
Polish Peg. And the truth was, I didn't know if I could stand to do
that.

So again, I skipped the
details. "You'll know as soon as I do, okay? I promise."

Just then, an unexpected sound caught
my attention...coming from the door, not the phone. Frowning, I
stepped toward it, lowering the phone from my ear.

It sounded like faint scratching
against the wood of the door.

Meanwhile, Luke kept
talking. "I'll check in tomorrow then. I'll call in the afternoon
and see how you're doing."

Walking to the door, I leaned down and
peered out through the spy hole. I couldn't see anyone on the other
side of the door. Anyone human, that is.

"Lottie? Are you still
there?"

I put the phone to my ear as
I undid the security chain on the door. "I'm here." Then, I turned
the doorknob till the center button of the lock mechanism popped
toward me. "But I've got to go. I'm exhausted."

"I can imagine." Luke sounded
sincerely concerned. "Well, you get some sleep, and you'll feel
better in the morning."

"I hope so." I kept turning
the doorknob, and the latch slid free of the frame. "Good night,
Luke."

"'Night, baby. I love you."

"Love you, too." With that, I pressed
the button on the phone to end the call. I threw the phone across
the room, and it landed on the foot of the bed.

Then, I slowly pulled the door
open.

The scratching stopped. Looking down,
I saw a shape, low to the ground and white as snow. It scooted back
out of the way before I could get a good look at it.

It was some kind of animal,
I guessed, which was probably all I needed to know...but curiosity
got the better of me. I eased the door open another crack, staring
wide-eyed into the dim light from the bulb outside my door. But the
animal seemed to be gone; I must've scared it away.

Pushing the door wider, I
tried for one last look. Just then, a streak of white zipped out of
the shadows and through the doorway into my room.

Heart hammering, I gasped
and leaped back. Finally, I got a clear look at the thing as it
streaked across the carpet and under my bed.

A cat.
It was a white cat, and now it was in my room.

The question now was how to
get it out again. Though I'm not a cat
hater
, I've never been a cat
person
, either. I had no
idea how to handle this refugee under my bed.

Leaving the door cracked just enough
for the cat to get out, I walked over to the bed. "Hey, kitty." I
patted the mattress, hoping the sound might be enough to alarm the
cat. "Come on out of there, kitty."

I heard no movement under the bed, so
I patted harder. Still nothing. "You've got to go, kitty. Go back
home now."

Looking around the room, I
wondered what to do next. Call the night clerk at the front desk?
Call Animal Control? I doubted they were on duty at this time of
night.

Maybe I could use something
to push the cat out. If only I had a broom or a mop. Was there
anything else long enough to reach under the bed?

A light bulb of inspiration went on
over my head, and I marched to the closet. Yanking open the door, I
reached for the full-length ironing board hanging from a peg
inside.

Determined to get the cat
out, I marched back to the bed...but just as I crouched and
prepared to slide the board under the foot of the bed, I saw the
cat walk around from the far side.

He stopped about three feet
away and stared at me, tail flicking. His bright green eyes looked
like sparkling emeralds in the snow white fur of his perfect little
face.

He looked like he was in
great shape for a stray, if he was one. His clean white fur had a
healthy gloss and was closely trimmed, free of burrs and tangles. I
saw no nicks or scratches, none of the wounds a cat could pick up
in the wild.

Plus, he wore a collar. It
was red and studded with glittering rhinestones. From where I
crouched, I couldn't read the fine print engraved on the tiny gold
nameplate.

So he was either a brand-new
stray or a local housecat out for his nightly prowl. Either way, he
didn't worry me as much as if he'd been a mangy feral cat seething
with disease.

"Okay then." I let go of the ironing
board and held out my hand. "Let's see what your name is,
kitty."

Head bowed, the cat slinked
forward two steps...then suddenly backed up three. He lifted his
head, eyes locked with mine, and let out a long
meeeow
.

"Sorry, but I don't
speak
cat
." I
leaned forward and reached out again. "If I could just take a look
at that collar of yours..."

The cat meowed again and licked his
lips.

"Is that what you want?
Food?" Leaning my elbow on the bed, I looked at the mini-fridge.
Nothing to eat in there; I hadn't had time to stock it. "Well, I
got nothin'. Wasn't expecting company tonight, you
know."

Again, the cat meowed and licked his
lips.

"I'll be sure to pick something up at
the market tomorrow. Now how about a quick look at that collar?"
Lunging forward, I made a grab for the animal.

Who of course was much too
fast for me. My fingers didn't even brush his fur as he turned tail
and sprinted out the door.

I got to my feet and
followed. But by the time I got to the door, he was gone. I stood
on the sidewalk in front of my room and looked in all directions,
but there was no trace of him. The white, mysterious cat had
disappeared in the night like a...

"Ghost. That's what I'll
call you." I padded down the walk in my stocking feet and looked
around the corner of the building...but there was no sign of him.
"My own little Ghost, popped in for a visit."

I walked back to my room
then, went in, and shut the door. I lay back down on the bed and
stretched out on the spread.

"I wonder who that little
guy was," I said. Talking to myself was another habit of mine,
though not as troublesome as smoking or nail-chewing. "Just out
looking for a saucer of milk, I guess."

As I thought about the white
cat with the emerald eyes, I yawned. I rolled over and curled up,
and then my eyes drifted shut.

"Goodnight, Ghost," I said softly.
"Sweet dreams of sweet cream."

And then, finally, without another
word, I fell asleep.

Chapter 7

Next morning, I woke from a
deep sleep to the sound of pounding on the door.
Boom boom boom boom.
Then
shouting.

"Hey, Lottie!" A man's
voice, familiar. "Rise and shine!"

I tried to block it out. I
needed the sleep so badly, and I wasn't anywhere near ready to get
up yet.

But the ruckus wouldn't
stop. "Wake up, Lottie!"
Boom boom boom
boom.
"You're sleeping the day
away!"

Angrily, I rolled over and
checked the blinking red digital clock on the nightstand. At which
point I got even angrier, because it was only 6:30 in the
morning.

"Go away!" Rolling back over, I pulled
a pillow over my head to block the noise.

"No can do," said the man at
the door. "I'm under strict orders!"
Boom
boom boom boom boom.