Too Dead To Dance (13 page)

Young women in dirndls wove
through the crowd with palettes of plastic shot glasses, selling
schnapps for a dollar. The band on stage played “Edelweiss” while
the whole crowd swayed to the music holding beer glasses above
their heads. By this time of night most of the music included
audience participation. As soon as the song ended, the singers sat
down and the band started up with the “Chicken Dance.” People
swarmed to the aisle, flapping their arms and clucking.

Laughing, I pressed through
the crowd to the beer wagon and ordered a berry wine cooler. It
took forever to get through the crowd to the picnic table next to
the stage where Trudy, Sally and several other women sat. They
shouted a greeting over the loud music and moved together to make
room for me to sit down.

One of the women plopped a
funnel cake covered in powered sugar on the table. The merrymakers
dived into it. I couldn’t believe these people were eating sweet
funnel cake and drinking beer. You gotta love those
Germans.

A pretty girl wearing a
dirndl and blonde braids sashayed up to our table. She held out a
board that had little holes in it. Plastic shot glasses were
nestled in the holes. “Root beer shots, anyone? Only one
ticket.”

I threw out three tickets
and bought one for Trudy, Sally and me. Sally downed hers while
Trudy and I sipped ours.

When the next song began,
we watched Frank, the Fest Meister and the Polka Princesses
marching through the tent, grabbing up people and making a long
snaky line. Then the Fest Meister and the Polka Queen turned,
joined hands and made a bridge for the marchers to go under. As
soon as they cleared the bridge, they turned and put up their hands
until all the participants had gone under. Then they turned and
marched back through the crowd.

I thought I heard Trudy
whisper. “Smarty pants.”

“Did you say something,
Trudy?” I asked.

“No. Well, ya, I did,” she
said turning to me. “That Frank thinks he’s so
important,”

“Why don’t you like him?” I
asked.

Trudy pulled herself up and
said, “I’ll tell you why. About five years ago, he quit his
perfectly good job at the pizza factory and got his brother to quit
his job at Stanley’s Supermarket. They put all their savings into
that meat market. Frank was such a penny-pincher that Ida, his wife
took a part-time job. She told a friend of mine that she just
wanted to be able to buy some new clothes. Then Ida died right
before they bought the meat market. I think she was just worn out.
He thinks he’s better than everyone else. He’s been that way since
high school.”

“But the business is
successful, isn’t it?”

“Well, yah, because of Al.
I think he does most of the work. I think Frank used Ida’s life
insurance to buy his share of the meat market. I just don’t like
him.”

“I don’t know, Trudy. His
private life is his business. I think he’s nice. And he sure is a
great Fest Meister.”

I finished my schnapps,
feeling weird drinking from a small plastic cup like those used at
church for Communion wine.

“Who is taking Wes’ place
in the band, Trudy?” I hadn’t realized until now that Wes’ death
left the band short one musician.

“For now we just have
people from other bands filling in when they can. Before Wes joined
the band a girl from Itzeg played the trumpet. But she got pregnant
and had to quit. She said for every pound she gained she lost more
breath. Couldn’t do the riffs anymore.” Trudy laughed and stuck a
piece of funnel cake in her mouth and washed it down with her beer.
“The young ones, they come and go. Ray said without Clara and Vic,
the band would had never lasted this long. But we keep finding new
talent and it helps the young ones get some experience,
too.”

During the break between
the last band and the grand finale, I asked Trudy about Thursday
night. “Did you see Wes talking to anyone after their
set?”

“No, not anyone special.
Some girls always talk to the younger guys. Of course the Fest
Meister and one of the Princesses were talking to him during one of
the breaks.”

She tapped her finger on
her chin. “You know, I remember there was someone. This
good-looking lady talked to him during one of the breaks towards
the end of the evening. Must have been around ten-thirty. A tall
woman, with amazing reddish-brown hair. Long, thick hair, past her
shoulders. They were intense and Wes kept shaking his head and
grinning at her. Then she stomped her foot, turned, and marched out
of the tent.”

My mouth dropped open. I
was too stunned to speak. Trudy had described Marty. Edwin said she
got in about eleven but did she leave later to confront Wes? Why?
Did he have something on her? Did she want something from him?
Shoot, the more questions I ask the more questions that came up. I
would never get this figured out.

I sat there thinking for
awhile before I became conscious of the fact that I had been
munching on funnel cake and drinking my wine cooler. Sort of a
tasty combination. Who knew?

I attempted to brush
powered sugar off the front of my shirt and slid over closer to
Sally, thinking I could talk to her.

Just then, a tall, lanky
man threw a leg over the picnic table between Trudy and me.
Straddling the picnic table bench he said, “Hey, ladies, I’m here.
Have you been waiting long?”

The ladies at the table
laughed and, believe it or not, Trudy actually blushed. The lady
who had bought the funnel cake just frowned then turned her
attention toward the bandstand and ignored all of us.

He pulled his other leg
over and deposited his beer bottle on the table. “Has anyone seen
my brother?” He asked.

Trudy said, looking around,
“He was just here. Over there with the Princesses. I wonder where
he went.”

One of the ladies at the
table said, “He might have gone to another tent. The Hermann
Minnesangers are performing at the next tent right now. Maybe he
wanted to hear them.”

“He’s only heard them most
of his life,” remarked Trudy.

Grinning at me, the
sandy-haired man said, “Hi, I’m Al. Hey, didn’t I almost run over
you the other day?”

“Watch out, Jennifer, he’s
a heart breaker,” Trudy warned me.

“Don’t believe a word she
says,” Al replied. “She’s secretly in love with me, but don’t tell
Ray.”

Everyone at the table
laughed then went back to watching the bands on stage. I shook my
head while checking out this attractive guy with light green eyes
and tousled blonde hair. He flashed me an alluring
smile.

“Yes,” I replied, “I’m the
one who fell in front of your truck. Thanks for helping me pick up
my coffee bags.”

“No, problem. I’ve been
waiting for a beautiful woman to fall for me.”

“That is the most pitiful
pick-up line I’ve ever heard. Aren’t you going to ask me what my
sign is?”

“Naw, don’t need to. I know
we’re compatible.”

Without that smile, he
never would’ve gotten away with such silly lines. But, he was so
cute all I could do was laugh.

“Ah, Jennifer,” Al said,
holding my left hand between his, probably checking to see if I was
wearing a wedding ring. “Lover of peace.”

“What? How do you know what
my name means?”

“I know all sorts of
things, Jennifer. I know I’d like to go out with you. Can I have
your number? Can I call you?” A hank of hair fell over his forehead
as he flashed that grinned at me again.

I felt my throat constrict.
I hadn’t been asked out since college. My nervous laugh was a wee
bit shrill as I squeaked out an answer. “Jennifer Penny. I’m in the
book.”

He kissed the back of my
hand and then stood up, bowed at the waist and said, “’Til we meet
again.” He grabbed his bottle of Leinenkugel and melted into the
crowd.

“Wow! What was that all
about?” I asked Trudy.

“Oh, that’s just Al. He’s
harmless. Well, to us married ladies. You’d better watch out
though. He loves the ladies. He has a whole bevy of women who are
in and out of the meat market all day.”

“Maybe that’s why his
business is successful,” I said, laughing. “He flirts with them and
they buy pot roasts just to see him. Pretty simple business
plan.”

“I think he does more than
flirt, Jennifer,” Trudy warned me. “He’s a real ladies
man.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not
even divorced yet and I’m certainly not interested in getting
involved with any man for a long time—if ever.”

“Yah, sure. I’ve heard that
before,” Trudy the Sage replied, picking up her cup and draining
the last of her beer.

She was probably right.
First gorgeous Detective Decker, now this fine-looking guy. Maybe
being single wasn’t so bad after all. Jennifer, stop! I told
myself. You do not want to go there. And I didn’t come here to
flirt with men or try to figure out my life. I was here to help
Bernie.

“I don’t mean to
eavesdrop,” said the lady who had bought the funnel cake. “But Wes
and Al didn’t get along when they were kids.”

“They didn’t?” Trudy and I
both replied at once.

“Man, they were always at
each other. In high school Wes made the varsity football team but
Al was just a second stringer, a bench warmer. When Wes got kicked
out of school for having drugs in his locker, Al got moved up. We
all figured that Al ratted out Wes or maybe even planted the
dope.”

“You went to high school
with Wes and Al?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m Della. Della
Younger.”

“Younger? Are you related
to Natalie?”

“Unfortunately. She’s my
aunt. My dad is her older brother. How do you know her? Not that
anyone in town doesn’t know her.”

“We went to St. Theresa’s
together, first through eighth grade. Were you in the same class as
Wes and Al?”

“No, I was a year behind
them. I dated Al when I was in tenth grade. We broke up because he
couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off the other girls in school. I
dated Wes in my junior year. He was already out of school. I didn’t
go with him for long. He was really possessive and besides he got
into trouble all the time. My folks were having a fit about me
going with a guy who was on probation. When my mom heard about Wes
being killed she said that he probably got what he deserved. Not
very sympathetic, my mom.”

“Do you think that Al
could’ve killed Wes?” I asked.

“Why? I doubt they’ve even
spoken to each other in years. Wes just got out of jail. Besides,
didn’t that nun kill him?”

“No, she didn’t.” I
bristled. “I’ve known Sister Bernadine most of my life. She could
never hurt another human being.”

“Whoa, sorry. I’m just
saying what I heard,” Della put up her hands in defense.

“Oh, I know. I’m just so
tired of everyone talking about her.” I patted Della on the arm and
thanked her for the information.

I turned to Sally to ask
her about Wes and Bobby but she shushed me when the music started
and the closing ceremony began. The mood changed from merry to
solemn. Each band played the National Anthem of the country they
represented. There were German bands of course, but also Austrian,
Tyrolean, Swiss and several other bands from small countries in
Europe. Even the Canadians came down for the celebration. When the
Windig Sangers and a couple other American bands started the
National Anthem, the entire audience stood with hand over heart and
sang along. By the time we got to “home of the brave,” all the
revelers at our table had tears on their cheeks.

Mellowed out from the
schnapps, wine cooler and a few bites of funnel cake for supper, I
slid down the picnic table bench to talk to Sally. Just then, she
jumped up and headed for the back of the stage. A young man with a
boyish grin came down the steps, flipped open a cooler and took out
a long necked bottle of Leinenkugel beer. He popped it open, took a
big swig and then grabbed Sally, spinning her around in a circle. I
recognized Bobby from yesterday when Jacobs was questioning
him.

They were laughing, their
noses touching when I got up to make my way out of the tent along
with about eight hundred other fest-goers.

When I finally made my way
through the crowded exit, I strolled along the roadway toward the
parking lot. Metzger’s meat truck made its way through the Fest
Grounds. Under the streetlight, I saw Al and sitting next to him
was a blonde I recognized as one of the Polka Princesses. A little
young for him, I thought. Why do men always seem to chase after the
young ones, I pondered.

I peeked into the mid-sized
tent. There was a band onstage playing, of all things, country
music. This must be the German band from Texas. I listened for a
while looking over the crowd. I spied Natalie Younger sitting with
a group at a ringside table. Everyone was drinking draft beer from
plastic keg cups, except Natalie. She poured her beer into two keg
cups from a bottle of Leinenkugel.

What was with people
drinking Wisconsin beer? They must have brought it with them
because the only beer sold here was Schueller beer, brewed right
here in Hermann. She handed one of the cups of beer to the man next
to her. His back was to me so I couldn’t see who it was. A man in
lederhosen with salt and pepper grey hair. It might be the Fest
Meister but from the back it also looked like half the men here at
Polka Daze.