Peachy Villains

  Copyright © 2018 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Thanks for reading

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Also by Wendy Meadows

  Chapter One

  The smell of hay, peanuts, popcorn, cotton candy and a little animal poo-poo filled Momma Peach's nose as she walked with Michelle through a maze of red and white striped tents toward the back of the large field. Her eyes wandered around each tent, spotting every kind of circus person there possibly was. A funny clown with a large red smile painted on his white- and blue-painted face walked past Momma Peach wearing a green and purple suit and a bright yellow wig. The clown glanced at Momma Peach, nodded his head, and hurried off. “My,” Momma Peach whispered just as a large elephant walked around a tent and stopped directly in front of her. Momma Peach let out a shriek, grabbed Michelle's arm and ducked behind her.

  “Oh now, really?” A pretty woman with dark red hair asked in a strong Texan accent, “Melanie wouldn't hurt a fly.”

  Momma Peach peeked her head out from behind Michelle. Melanie the sweet elephant spotted Momma Peach, raised her trunk, and trumpeted a hello. Momma Peach winced in fear. “Hi...girl,” she said and ducked her head back behind Michelle.

  Michelle sighed. “Momma Peach, I think it's safe to come out.”

  “My name is Lidia Rye. And as I said, this here is Melanie.”

  “I'm Detective Chan and this is my partner, Caroline Johnson.”

  “Uh...call me Momma Peach, baby,” Momma Peach said and eased out from behind Michelle a second time. She looked at Melanie. The elephant looked at Momma Peach with a pair of innocent eyes. Momma Peach felt a strange warmth in her heart. Suddenly the horrifyingly big elephant no longer seemed terrifying. Instead, Momma Peach saw that the creature was gentle and caring. “Well, I'll be,” Momma Peach smiled. “Why, hello Melanie. I'm Momma Peach.”

  Melanie raised her trunk and let out a special greeting. Lidia smiled. “She likes you.” Lidia patted Melanie’s gray trunk. “Would you like to pet her?”

  “Maybe later,” Michelle said. “We're looking for Mr. Hayman.”

  Lidia stopped smiling and frowned. The woman, who wore a brown shirt and pants, had looked at ease, but the mention of Mr. Hayman's name made her stiff and uneasy. “He's in his trailer.”

  Michelle nodded her head. “Ms. Rye, did you know the man that was killed?”

  Lidia sighed. “Yeah, I knew Lance. He was a good guy...one of the best, actually. I don't know why someone would want to kill that nice fella.” Lidia shook her head. “Lance loved kids, you know. He was an amazing clown, always full of laughs and never had a hard word to say against anyone...although some folks around this circus deserve a hard word.”

  Momma Peach studied Lidia's pretty blue eyes. She liked Lidia. “Baby, can you—” Momma Peach was interrupted by an Asian woman with long black hair; the Asian woman appeared to be Michelle's age. But Momma Peach quickly saw the woman was Michelle's complete opposite. Michelle was a tough cop, but she had sweet, caring, brave eyes—the other woman had cold, mean eyes and a cruel face.

  “Wasting time talking to the police?”

  Lidia rolled her eyes. “Detective Chan, this is Lindsey Sung, Mr. Hayman's assistant.”

  Lindsey eyed Michelle with caution. Coincidentally, the two women were both dressed in black leather jackets and dark colored dresses. If Momma Peach didn't know better she would have sworn the two were sisters. “Mr. Hayman already spoke to the police,” she said in a hard voice.

  “Not to me,” Michelle fired back. “The murder scene is taped off. Forensics is wrapping things up. In the meantime, I need to speak to Mr. Hayman...right now.”

  Lindsey clearly didn't like taking orders from a cop—especially a female cop. “I said Mr. Hayman already gave his statement. If you want to speak to him, get a warrant.”

  “If Mr. Hayman refuses to speak to me I will consider him my number one suspect. I have cause enough to arrest him right here and now under suspicion of murder. Is that clear, Ms. Sung?” Michelle’s voice told Momma Peach to stand back and get ready for a fireworks show to erupt. “I will also have the town pull Mr. Hayman's operational business license, too, and shut down this circus.”

  Lindsey balled her hands into two tight fists. “You hide well behind a badge,” she spoke in an insulting tone in Mandarin Chinese. “Your kind are a disgrace to the old country.”

  “Your kind is no better than sewer rats,” Michelle said, switching to her own fluent Chinese language. Momma Peach didn't know what Michelle said but whatever words left her mouth sure slapped her opponent in the face. “I stand for light, you stand for darkness.”

  Lindsey Sung's dark eyes flashed with fury. She took two steps back and dropped down into a fighting position similar to the tense crouch Michelle always assumed before tangling with an enemy. “Let's see who ends up under the dirt,” she hissed.

  Michelle nodded her head and gently pushed Momma Peach behind her. “Stay back, Momma Peach,” she warned.

  “Now wait a minute, hold on,” Lidia said, “let me get poor Melanie out the road before you girls go dragging.” Lidia quickly walked Melanie out of harm's way.

  Momma Peach wrapped her hand around her pocketbook. “She looks tough, baby.”

  Michelle stared into Lindsey's eyes. She didn't answer Momma Peach. Lindsey snarled in contempt and prepared to strike, but a firm voice threw cold water on her fire. “Settle down,” a tall, thin man with a heavy British accent ordered Lindsey. “There is no need for any more violence in my circus.”

  Lindsey threw her head over her shoulder and spotted a handsome man in his mid-sixties walking up. He wore a finely pressed gray suit and carried a silver walking cane. She immediately stood down. She looked at Michelle. “Another time.”

  “Anytime,” Michelle promised.

  Momma Peach felt relief wash through her chest. Lindsey Sung scared her. “Are you Mr. Hayman?” she asked, hoping to quickly divert attention away from the fight that had been brewing.

  Lionel Hayman raised his right hand and smoothed the thin, gray mustache over his lip. “I am he,” he said.

  Michelle examined the man's face. Lionel was not who she would have expected to find at a traveling circus. He reminded her of a stuffy English gentleman sitting in a peppermint pink parlor drinking tea and eating custard tarts. The round gray bowler covering his thin gray hair gave him a somewhat comical look, yet there was nothing comical about Lionel Hayman at all. “Mr. Hayman, I want to speak to you about Lance Potter.”

  “I've already spoken to a police officer and offered my full cooperation,” Lionel replied and tapped the ground with his cane. “Ms. Sung, please find Mr. Ditton and have him clean the grounds. I will not tolerate such mess.”

  “Yes, Mr. Hayman,” Lindsey responded in a sour voice. “He’s probably drunk behind his trailer, as usual.” Lindsey cast a threatening glare at Michelle as she walked away.

  Lionel li
fted his eyes and looked at Momma Peach. “Are you with the police force, madam?” he asked.

  “I'm Momma Peach,” Momma Peach said and stepped up to stand next to Michelle. “I work with Detective Chan when needed.” Momma Peach didn't like the looks of Lionel. The stuffy man gave her the creeps.

  Lionel simply nodded his head and focused on Michelle. “Detective Chan, as I mentioned, I have already spoken to a police officer. I am certain you can get everything you need from my statement. In the meantime, I do have a circus to manage.”

  “Mr. Hayman, I am the ranking detective on this police force and on this investigation, which means I have the final authority. You, sir, gave a statement to Officer Seth before I arrived.” Michelle folded her arms. “I have certain questions that need to be asked and answered. You can either cooperate with me here or cooperate down at the police station. That is your choice.”

  Lionel gave Michelle a bored, annoyed face. “Of course,” he stated. “You Americans are always so clumsy in your investigations, wasting valuable time irritating the innocent rather than pursuing the guilty.” Lionel tapped the ground with his cane. “Very well, ask your questions, Detective.”

  “You don't seem upset about the death of one of your employees,” Momma Peach pointed out.

  “Why should I be?” Lance asked. “I barely knew the man. My assistant, Lindsey Sung, is in charge of scouting and hiring talent, and she also dismisses performers when needed. I did not know the deceased on a personal level because I prefer to maintain a professional relationship with all of the men and women employed at my circus.”

  Michelle glanced at Momma Peach. She could tell that Momma Peach wanted to smack Lionel in the head with her pocketbook. “Settle down, tiger,” she whispered.

  Momma Peach gritted her teeth. Lionel simply stared at her. “Is that all, madam?” he asked.

  “No,” Michelle continued. “Lance Potter was hired to perform as a clown, right?”

  “Indeed. That is what my assistant informs me, and she checked his employment file.” Lionel leaned forward on his cane.

  “The man had no family...no wife...no children?”

  “I had my assistant make a copy of Lance Potter’s records and turn them over to the police officer I spoke with,” Lionel explained. “If you ran a competent police force, Detective, you would know that already.”

  “No records have been turned over to my department,” Michelle informed Lionel.

  “I see,” Lionel stated coldly, and then glanced briefly in the direction Lindsey had walked off a few minutes before. “I must speak with my assistant, then. Perhaps she became distracted by another irritatingly persistent officer?” He looked back at Michelle, making his implication clear.

  “Maybe,” Michelle said. She looked to her right and saw three clowns staring at her from the doorway of a nearby tent. The clowns quickly slipped back into the tent and vanished. “I’m afraid I must repeat my question, Mr. Hayman. Did Mr. Potter have a wife or any children?”

  “Mr. Potter's records state that he arrived for unemployment single, unattached. Whether the man had a wife or has any children elsewhere, I do not know. But as far as troublesome children or a woman traveling with him, I would think not. My assistant keeps a very tight leash on all of the men and women employed at my circus.”

  “Troublesome children?” Momma Peach asked. “Why, you overstuffed mushroom, this is a circus. Circuses are designed to bring happiness to children!” Momma Peach began to swing her pocketbook at Lionel. Michelle quickly pushed her arm down. “Oh, give me strength!” Momma Peach begged. “We're talking to a peanut head!”

  “Madam,” Lionel said in a calm voice, “my circus is simply a business. My goal is to turn a comfortable profit, not host a traveling daycare for my employees.” Lionel tapped the ground with his cane to emphasize his words. “I offer simple, if adolescent, entertainment to the masses and in return, the masses yield to me the ticket price I demand for the show.” He spread his hands and they could see a glimmer of the entertainer in him. “It is that simple. So if you please, do away with your childish insults, madam. We are all adults...or so I assumed.” He looked away as if bored by the conversation.

  Momma Peach imagined her hands around Lionel's thin little neck. “Oh, give me strength, give me strength. I feel like I'm talking to a deranged man!”

  Michelle fought back a grin. “Mr. Hayman, Lance Potter was found dead in his trailer early this morning by a man named Young Greenson.” Michelle fought back a yawn as she glanced down to consult the scribbled words on her notepad. She was tired. “When I spoke to Mr. Greenson, he stated that he found Mr. Potter lying face-down on the floor with a knife stuck between his shoulder blades.”

  “Yes, my assistant told me,” Lionel told Michelle and waved his left hand in the air as if he was swatting a pesky gnat away. “It appears that Mr. Potter acquired himself an enemy.”

  “Yes, it does,” Michelle agreed. “Any idea who that enemy might be?”

  “No,” Lionel said, dismissing Michelle's question. “As I stated, Detective, I do not...mingle...with my workers. When you await a good meal, it does not do to trouble the servants who toil in the kitchen, if you will.”

  Michelle nodded her head. “Suits me just fine,” she said to Momma Peach. “There's better food in the kitchen because the food is cooked by honest hands, anyway.”

  Lionel frowned. “Are we quite finished?”

  “Where were you this morning, Mr. Hayman?” Michelle asked in a stern voice. “I want time, location and, if possible, witnesses.”

  “Oh, very well,” Lionel huffed. “I awoke at my usual time, which is five o'clock sharp. I ate a breakfast of beans, toast, and coffee and then began reviewing the payroll. My assistant joined me at eight sharp. At eight-thirty Mr. Greenson arrived at my trailer in a panic and informed myself and my assistant about the untimely death of Mr. Potter. I, of course, immediately contacted the local police department.” Lionel looked at Michelle with annoyance. “Now I have fully cooperated with the silly and unnecessarily rude investigation you Americans insist upon, and I must perform my usual inspections before tonight's show. As you know, the show must go on.”

  “Not tonight it won't,” Michelle informed Lionel. “Mr. Hayman, a man was found dead. As of now, this circus is closed down and no one—and I mean not a single person—is to leave my town. Is that clear?”

  Michelle's statement caused Lionel's cheeks to turn red. “You have no right to cancel—”

  “I have every right and authority to do so,” Michelle interrupted Lionel. “You, sir, may continue your circus when and only when I give the green light to do so. In the meantime, I am going to fully investigate the death of one Mr. Lance Potter. As of now, sir, you are a suspect, along with everyone working for you. If you or any of your employees try to leave town, I will slap a warrant of arrest out on the wire so quickly it will make your heads spin. Do I make myself clear, sir?”

  Lionel ground his cane into the dirt, leaving a deep divot out of barely suppressed outrage. “How long will you inconvenience me with your drabble?” he demanded. “I am a businessman after all. Time is of great importance to me.”

  “When I find the killer, your circus will be back in business,” Michelle informed Lionel. “In the meantime, I'm placing the fairgrounds under strict lockdown. This is a crime scene. No one comes or goes.” Michelle stretched her neck. “I want you to gather every one of your employees, Mr. Hayman, and bring them into the main tent.”

  “Why?” Lionel demanded.

  “I will interview every single person working for you,” Michelle explained and looked at Momma Peach. “We're going to need lots of coffee, Momma Peach. And maybe some donuts?” she asked in a hopeful voice.

  Momma Peach nodded her head. “Yes, baby, lots and lots of coffee to keep our eyes open today. A donut or two wouldn't hurt.” Momma Peach looked at Lionel. The man sure gave her the creeps. “I’m going to help find out who killed the clown, rest his p
oor soul.”

  “In the great scheme of the world, madam, one dead clown is not a tragedy,” Lionel stated and walked away into a gray, damp morning.

  Young Greenson walked into the main tent through a side entrance used by the staff and maneuvered down an aisle between the metal bleachers that were stained with traces of sticky cotton candy and colorful sugar syrup from overpriced snow cones. The tent smelled of hay and animal dung mingled with wet grass and fear. In the middle of the tent was the center ring, protected by a wide wooden rail designed to separate the public from the performers. Inside the wooden circle there were no clowns, no elephants, no high wire, no trapeze, nothing except the damp grass and a very curious detective standing beside the woman named Momma Peach. Young was over-excited to speak to anyone, especially because Mr. Hayman was standing in the ring looking very annoyed and impatient. “Here we go,” Young said and tested his breath to make sure he didn't smell like whiskey.

  Michelle spotted Young testing his breath and could see his glassy, bloodshot eyes from a distance. She nodded her head at Momma Peach and waited. Momma Peach studied every move Young made as he walked into the wooden circle. The man appeared to be in his late fifties, tall with a plump belly and short yellow hair that was messy as a wadded-up dishrag. She felt a sense of pity for the man. “Here I am Mr. Hayman, right on time,” Young said and glanced down at the gray button-down shirt he was wearing and quickly tucked it into his jeans. “Sorry about that,” he said in a worried tone. Lionel shot him a look of displeasure.

  “Oh, don't worry about not having your shirt tucked in,” Momma Peach smiled at Young. “When I was a young wife, that used to be my favorite part about the morning, helping my handsome young man get dressed,” she teased. “Speaking of, is there a Mrs. Greenson?”