Peachy Villains Page 11

  Michelle felt sick listening to his diseased logic. “You're not a saint, Mr. Hayman. You're in this for the money. Don't try to sell me a sob story.”

  Lionel tapped the table again. “I once suffered from cancer, Detective, and nearly died. My brother spent a fortune to save my life. In return, I decided to show my gratitude by working for the people who allowed him to purchase the cancer medicine I needed.” Lionel stared at Michelle. “I understood the risk. I knew the dangers. It's true that I am scared for my life and that I know my days are numbered...” Lionel stopped talking.

  Michelle sipped her coffee. “Did you kill Lance Potter?”

  “Of course not,” Lionel exclaimed.

  “You planted the whiskey bottle in his trailer, didn't you?”

  “Yes,” Lionel confessed. “That was all Lindsey’s idea.”

  “Did Lindsey kill Lance Potter?”

  “No,” Lionel answered truthfully. He looked up at Michelle. “Lindsey did kill Greenson. I...asked her to spare the man's life, but she insisted that the man's death was the only thing that could free us from this miserable town. She devised a clever scheme and we were confident it would work.” Lionel looked down at his hands. “My attorney was the cherry on the cake, as they say...unfortunately, you got in the way, and then my attorney turned coward on me and fled for his life. Detective, I'm not a killer. It's true that I'm a man who has…made difficult choices, but I'm not a killer.”

  “You knew Lindsey Sung was planning to kill Mr. Greenson and that she killed him, and you said nothing. That makes you an accessory to murder,” Michelle informed Lionel. “An honest man would not allow an innocent man to die in order to open an escape hatch.” Michelle set down the brown mug she was holding. “You chose a very hard path for yourself, Mr. Hayman.”

  Lionel raised his eyes. “Fear makes a man act foolishly, Detective. I'm very much afraid of Ms. Sung. Perhaps it was wrong to remain silent, but you must understand, I have orders to carry out, on pain of death. The men I work for are remorseless, soulless.” Lionel settled his body into a suitable position. “My brother was a decent lad, Detective. But sadly, he always seemed to find companions among the wrong type of people. When I said that he paid a fortune for my cancer medicine, I wasn't exaggerating. You see, my brother signed a lifelong contract to repay that debt...when he died, the contract fell into my lap. I had no choice but to show my gratitude or pay the debt with my life. Do you really think a man of my stature would choose to own a foul, low-life circus?” Lionel gave Michelle a strange look.

  “Ah,” Michelle said, “your employees at the circus are working for the black market gang too, right?”

  “Not all of them...only a select handful,” Lionel confessed. “The circus travels where it is ordered to travel. At times, certain people are dismissed and certain people are hired on...and at times...the men I work for send me people.”

  Michelle sat down. She looked at the two-way mirror. “Mr. Hayman, I admit that I could care less what happens to the likes of you, but with that said, maybe we can make a deal with each other.”

  “A deal?” Lionel asked. “Come now detective, do you really think you can destroy the men I work for? These men have their hands in the pockets of some very powerful senators, don’t forget. I’m sure you saw that in the paperwork you stole from me. The best you will be able to accomplish is closing down the circus. The men I work for will simply slap your annoying hand away and create another undercover operation and continue on without skipping a beat. Why? Because your FBI, CIA, DEA, all of your so-called alphabet-soup agencies are bought and paid for, controlled by politicians who create wars for profit and use politics to keep the people divided. The politicians depend on the black market just as much as the criminals do.”

  Michelle knew Lionel was speaking the truth. She bit down on her lower lip. “Okay, Mr. Hayman, right now I want to focus on the murders of Mr. Potter and Mr. Greenson. I won't concern myself with the black market trade in cancer medicines. As much as it hurts me to agree with you, I admit that you are right. I can see that now. I was hoping you might give me some names, but that hope was made in vain—”

  “Well, that’s partially right,” Lionel interrupted. “You must realize, detective, that there is a constant civil war taking place among these agencies—a constant war for power in which certain victories and losses are being traded back and forth. Within your own FBI, there is a war taking place. If...perhaps...I play my cards right, I might be able to make a deal with some people who might find me of some use. You see, not everyone is content with the men I work for.” Lionel stared at Michelle. “The profits I make are used to fund politicians who my bosses support. It's a vicious, ugly cycle, Detective, in which many weapons are used, including medicine. But why should you bother yourself when you can watch programmed television that tells you what to think?”

  Michelle picked up her coffee and took a sip. She wasn't in the mood to be lectured on how the American public was willfully surrendering to a group of evil men. She wanted to focus on her job. “You said that Lindsey Sung killed Mr. Greenson. Will you testify to that in a court of law?”

  “What's in the deal for me?” Lionel asked.

  “If you testify in a court of law—”

  “If I testify in a court of law, I will insist that I acted out of fear for my own life, which I did,” Lionel interrupted Michelle. “In return, I will insist that I be placed in the Witness Protection Program. Are we clear, detective?”

  “Fair enough,” Michelle said. “But listen to me, Lindsey Sung is loose and she is bound to kill you, Mr. Hayman. You are a threat to her employers. Your best shot of surviving until morning is cooperating with me, okay?”

  “Of course,” Lionel agreed. “Detective, I'm not a foolish man. My chances of surviving are very narrow, even if I do make it into a court of law. There is no reasonable point to object to your duty any longer. If I dared to escape, where would I run to? I would be tracked down and killed within days. My only chance is to play on the minds of the men who are at war with my employers.”

  Michelle nodded her head and stood up. “Sit tight, Mr. Hayman. I'll have someone walk you back to your cell in a few minutes.” Michelle left the interrogation room and met Momma Peach out in the hallway. “Well?” she asked.

  Momma Peach chewed on a piece of peppermint. “Hide that skunk away and make sure his look-alike is sitting in his cell,” Momma Peach told Michelle in a thoughtful voice. “It was clever of you to find Mr. Dillard and ask him to play along.”

  “Mr. Dillard is on probation and attending his AA meetings on a regular basis. He was happy to help me because I drive him to his meetings sometimes. I doubt he'll ever drive drunk again.”

  “Let's pray not,” Momma Peach said. “Do you think Lindsey Sung will come here, baby?”

  Before Michelle could answer, Joan came hurrying down the hallway with a worried expression on her face. “Detective, I haven't been able to get in touch with Fred. I relayed your message to him but I forgot to tell him your message was a decoy. All I'm getting from him is static.”

  “I guess that answers your question, Momma Peach,” Michelle said in a quick voice. “Joan, take Mr. Hayman back down to the basement and lock him in the old cell. Station someone down there to guard him. Then check on Mr. Dillard. If he's sleeping, wake him up.”

  Joan nodded her head and hurried away to carry out her duties. Michelle turned to Momma Peach with a grim look. “I gave Mr. Dillard a gun, Momma Peach. If Lindsey gets past our defenses, then our last hope of stopping her will be Mr. Dillard.”

  Momma Peach looked into Michelle's face. Her baby was worried and so was she.

  Lindsey pulled up to the side of the police station. She stared at the station with careful eyes. Somewhere inside the station house, Lionel Hayman was being protected by weak cops—and somewhere inside the station house was her mortal enemy. “Let's be very smart,” Lindsey whispered and called the station. “Let me speak to Detective Cha
n,” she ordered.

  “Who is calling?” Joan asked.

  “Lindsey Sung.”

  “Oh...” Joan said and connected the call to Michelle's office.

  Michelle picked up on the second ring. “Detective Chan—”

  “Listen closely to me, cop. If you want to see Officer Chert alive again, you will release Lionel Hayman to me within the next hour, do I make myself clear?” Lindsey hissed.

  Michelle waved at Momma Peach, Sam, Millie and Old Joe and asked them to stop talking. “I'm listening, Sung.”

  “I could have walked into your drab station, Chan, and killed you all. You were smart not to fall for my trick at the bakery. Now I'm tired of the games. I want Hayman. If you cooperate, I will let you and your pathetic friends live,” Lindsey lied. She kicked herself for trying a pointless trick against an experienced cop. “I should have attacked first instead of attempting to trick you. Fool me once… However, if you do as I say, I will back down.”

  “No you won't,” Michelle told Lindsey. “You'll never back down because you want us all dead. I don’t negotiate with criminals. You're going to have to come inside and try to take Mr. Hayman by force, Sung. We'll be waiting for you.”

  “I'll kill your cop, Chert!” Lindsey exploded.

  Michelle squeezed the phone. Lindsey would surely kill Fred, assuming the man wasn't dead already. But she couldn't walk into a trap. She looked at Momma Peach with desperate eyes. “She has Fred, Momma Peach, and is threatening to kill him unless I release Hayman to her.”

  Momma Peach nodded her head. “So let's give her that old skunk,” she said in a calm voice.

  “Okay, Sung, let's make a deal….Hayman for Chert,” Michelle spoke into the phone with a sick feeling in her gut.

  “Call your worthless dogs away from the circus and meet me there in one hour. If I see a cop around it's the end of the line for the mutt Chert in my trunk. Bring Hayman and no one else, I’m warning you! Tell you what…bring that overstuffed woman you travel with, if it makes you feel better. If I see anyone else, Chan, I'll make sure Chert suffers before I kill him.”

  “I'll be there,” Michelle promised. “And when I arrive, we'll finish our fight, Sung.”

  “I'm counting on it,” Lindsey grinned, ended the call, and drove away.

  Michelle put down the phone. “Momma Peach, it looks like you and me are going back to the circus tonight.”

  “Not alone,” Sam told Michelle.

  “Alone,” Michelle replied. “Sam, if Sung sees anyone other than Momma Peach and myself she'll kill Officer Chert. We don't have a choice.”

  “Oh, maybe we do,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “Baby, we have Mr. Dillard. I could kiss you all over your forehead for being so clever.” Momma Peach looked at Sam. “Baby, you're going to have to sit tight right here with Old Joe and Millie.”

  “No,” Sam objected. “Momma Peach, we're a family. Families stick together.”

  “But I am also a cop,” Michelle told Sam. “And right now the life of another cop is in danger, Sam, and that comes first. I can't risk you coming with us. I have to think about Fred Chert's life. I know you can understand that.”

  Sam threw his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it in frustration. “Yeah, I understand,” he said, feeling helpless. “This is one of those times when I wish I didn't.”

  Millie reached out and took Sam's hand. “It'll be okay, Sam. Right now we all just need to have a little faith.”

  Sam looked into Millie's caring eyes. The woman calmed his upset heart. “I don't like sitting on the back burner when people I love are in danger, Millie.”

  “I can see that,” Millie promised.

  Sam looked at Michelle and then to Momma Peach. “If anything happens to you two I'll never forgive myself.”

  “If Lindsey Sung sees you, Sam, she'll kill an innocent man,” Michelle said. She bent down and checked her gun. “Okay, Momma Peach, let's go.”

  Momma Peach nodded her head, smiled at Sam and then pointed at Old Joe. “Old Joe, make sure Mr. Sam sits tight. I know he’s a real cowboy and might try to head out on the range as soon as I leave.” Old Joe nodded his head. Sam looked down at the floor.

  Michelle picked up the phone on her desk. “Joan, call the guys back from the fairgrounds and in thirty minutes I want you to drive Mr. Dillard out to the circus. Only you, okay?”

  “Okay,” Joan agreed.

  “And make sure Mr. Hayman stays heavily guarded,” Michelle said and put down the phone. “Let's go, Momma Peach.” Momma Peach followed Michelle out of the office and closed the office door behind her. She walked out into the rainy night with Michelle, got her short little legs moving across the parking lot, and crawled into the front seat of a damp car. “Sung is up to something,” Michelle told Momma Peach.

  “She sure is, baby,” Momma Peach agreed. “She is going to try and kill four birds with one stone.” Momma Peach buckled her seatbelt and sat back in her seat as Michelle got the car moving through the rain and drove down a dark, wet street past sleepy houses and saturated lawns. Momma Peach let her eyes fall on the houses. Some houses had lights on, others didn't. Each house seemed inviting, warm and welcoming. She felt her insides longing to be inside a warm kitchen sipping hot coffee and eating a slice of peach pie. “Baby, when this is all over, remind me that I want some peach pie.”

  “Okay, Momma Peach,” Michelle said driving through back neighborhoods, deliberately avoiding the main roads. The homes made her yearn for family and peace, too. “Momma Peach, if...something happens to me tonight, tell Able...that he means...” Michelle stopped talking. Tears began to fall from her eyes.

  Momma Peach looked over at her baby. “Oh, baby,” she said and wiped Michelle's tears away.

  Michelle pulled over to the side of the road and looked at Momma Peach with scared eyes. “Momma Peach, I'm not sure that I can defeat Sung. Sung is way different from an oversized trucker in a pool hall or some idiot bikers in a bus station. I'll fight her, but...if she kills me...just know I love you very...oh, so very much.” Michelle reached out and hugged Momma Peach with all of her might. “Oh Momma Peach, you're my heart….you’re my real Momma and I love you so much,” Michelle cried.

  Momma Peach pulled Michelle into her loving arms and held her. “I love you even more,” she whispered as tears started to fall from her eyes. “I love you more than words can say. You live in a very special place inside of my heart that no one can touch.”

  Michelle leaned up. “If I do die tonight,” she whispered, “I'll die knowing that you loved me and that's enough.”

  “Oh baby, don't break my heart,” Momma Peach begged. “I ain't gonna let nothing happen to you, do you hear? I am meaner than a pebble boiling in a pot of black-eyed peas. Lindsey Sung is in for a fight she ain't ready for, because no one makes my Michelle cry and gets away with it, no sir and no ma’am!”

  “Your hands will be full with Max Moroz. I think we both know Lindsey Sung is going to the circus because she is going to set him up to kill you.”

  “Assuming he does and she kills you, then she'll kill that old man and Mr. Hayman...four lives with one stone,” Momma Peach agreed. “That woman is clever, baby, but so are we.” Momma Peach wiped at Michelle's tears. “My momma didn't raise no fool, baby. I know that we're about to walk into the den of lions, but I sure ain't afraid.”

  Michelle found strength and comfort in Momma Peach's words. “You make me feel good, Momma Peach,” she said and drew in a deep breath. “I...I'm a cop and I'll die a cop if that’s what I have to do tonight. But oh, Momma Peach, I do want to be a mother someday. Tonight I kept thinking...what if I had a baby...and Sung was after me...and went after my baby….maybe the time has come for me to finally set my badge down?”

  Momma Peach understood Michelle's fear. Her mind began to wonder many what-ifs. What if Michelle and Able did have a baby? What if a criminal went after their child? What if Michelle were killed? The what-ifs began to torment her mind. Losing her own h
usband had been horrible enough—and losing Michelle would destroy her. Lindsey Sung sure was doing a good job of placing a heavy shadow over her heart. “Baby, the time will come when you will know when it's right to either continue being a cop or...quit the force.”

  “Being a cop is who I am,” Michelle confessed. “I couldn't imagine not being a cop, Momma Peach. But...when I become a mother...my baby will have to come first. I...know I sound paranoid and spooked, but if I became a mother and anything happened to my baby because of my police work...I'd never be able to face life again.” Michelle looked out of the rainy windshield. “Momma Peach, I...can I make a confession to you?”

  “Yes, baby, you can always confess your heart to me.”

  Michelle steadied her troubled mind. “I want to….marry Able. I know we belong together, Momma Peach. I haven't told him about Sung because...his life would be in danger. I'm worried that Able might...leave me...after he finds out the truth.” Michelle sighed. “I know Able would catch the first flight to Georgia and come rushing to my rescue if he found out about Sung...I can't allow that.” Michelle looked at Momma Peach. “I'm in love with Able and I know he's in love with me...but...having a family and being a cop...it doesn't match up. One or the other has to take a backseat, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach patted Michelle's hand. “I don't think Able will be mad at you for trying to protect him. But the time is going to come, baby, when you're going to have to let Able jump into the frying pan with you and sizzle some. A man like Able isn't afraid to stand by his woman and you're his woman, baby. That man loves you in a way that is very—and I mean very—special way. The way he looks into your eyes...oh baby, you're his entire world. Able would die for you in a split second if he had to. Why? Because, baby, you're so very special. You're as beautiful as the softest summer night and as amazing as the birth of a new day. And don't get me started in on your heart, baby.” Momma Peach smiled and pushed Michelle's bangs away from her eyes. “Let's focus on tonight, baby, and let tomorrow handle itself. And always know the Good Lord is in control of everything so whatever happens, well, baby, will happen regardless of how much we try and stop it.”