A Dash of Peach Page 14

  Bob touched his nose and debated on whether to believe if Momma Peach was speaking the truth or setting a trap for him. “No one was in the room. I had the key.”

  “Oh, someone was in the room,” Momma Peach promised. “You'll meet that person tonight. Don't be late now, you hear? And don't forget that I know you threatened my babies. Tonight, boy, you go down. I’m gonna stomp you into the ground so low you'll be feeling the feet of folk over in China.” She didn’t stay to hear his reply.

  Momma Peach walked out to the front lobby. Michelle was standing near the front doors. “Everything okay?” she asked Momma Peach.

  “We have a date with a snake at midnight,” Momma Peach told Michelle and looked over at the front counter. To her delight, she didn't see Amanda Johnson. She did spot the snotty woman giving her a cold look. Momma Peach waved at her. “Come by my bakery anytime for some of my famous peach pie,” she called out and chuckled to herself. Having a sense of humor in a bad situation never hurt.

  Momma Peach wanted to slap Felicia Garland clear across Michelle's office. “Listen you hardheaded dummy,” she said in frustration, “we are offering you a way out. I know you called Michelle and reported Betty Walker's death. Why? Because you knew Bob Connor killed her and he was coming for you next. You were hoping mighty fierce that somehow the police would connect Betty's murder to Bob.”

  Felicia bit down on her right thumbnail, looking up at Momma Peach, who stood over her with a furrowed brow and her hands perched on her hips. She looked down again nervously. “Okay, yes, I called Detective Chan. I followed Floyd to the bus station...to protect him if Bob showed up. I spotted Bob's car, but he never bothered Floyd, thank goodness.”

  Michelle leaned against the far right wall. “You saw Bob Connor follow the bus, didn't you?”

  “Floyd followed the bus...and yes, Bob followed close behind,” Felicia admitted. She stood up from the chair she was sitting in and nervously began to pace in the small office. “Momma Peach, I'm already in so much trouble. This...mess...is so tangled. I admit I made the poison that killed my daddy...but I didn't kill him. You have to believe me.”

  “Bob Connor admitted to killing your daddy,” Momma Peach told Felicia. “But you have to tell us what you saw.”

  Felicia sighed in relief to hear of Bob’s admission. “Betty Walker saw him in the motel room...I was standing in the front lobby when she went to my daddy's room. Mark Thompson was passed out cold. I watched her ease the door open, stand still for a few seconds, and then run and hide behind the ice machine. A few minutes later, Bob came out of the room and walked behind the motel, where he had parked his car. I had my car parked in a driveway down the street from the motel.”

  “What about the night of the murder? Where were you?” Michelle asked.

  “And who was really your target?” Momma Peach pressed. “You claim you and your daddy were working together to kill Bob, and maybe that's a half truth, but there's a few little holes, too.”

  Felicia walked to the office window, and looked up at a dark sky blooming with rain clouds. She was in serious trouble. If she continued lying, Momma Peach would chew her alive. “My daddy was the target...Bob Connor killed him...and I...was going to blackmail Bob into leaving me and Floyd alone while...getting my daddy's money.” Felicia sighed. “My daddy played me. I really thought I was in his will. I am his daughter for crying out loud.”

  “How were you going to blackmail Bob?” Momma Peach asked.

  “On the night that I...found my daddy's body,” Felicia said as she continued to stare up at the stormy night sky, “I called Bob first and ordered him to leave town or I would plant the lid of a vial that had his fingerprints on it in the room. Bob refused, so I went and planted the lid...then I called the police. I...oh, I was so stupid. I didn't think Bob had enough time to get to the motel and find the lid. I thought I was so smart. I wore cologne to cover up my perfume... Floyd would have been suspicious if he found me not wearing my favorite perfume...he wasn't aware of anything until I confessed the whole mess to him. That's when he got involved, went and found Betty Walker, and paid her to leave town...with the last of our money.” Felicia hit her left thigh with her balled-up hand. “I was so sure the police would arrive before Bob could retrieve the cap. I was wrong.”

  Momma Peach walked up to Felicia. “I think we get the picture,” she said in a soft voice. “Felicia, let us help you. We believe that you didn't kill your daddy. But you're still in a world of trouble. If you do what we ask of you, we'll do whatever we can to help you.”

  Felicia looked into Momma Peach's eyes. “You don't understand... I'm not evil. My husband just made a mistake and gambled too much, that's all. He panicked and stole money that didn't belong to him. We all make mistakes. He planned to pay it all back.” Felicia wiped at her tears. “When Bob showed up, my mind just...came up with this plan to save my husband, you know.” Felicia laughed to herself. “Have Bob kill daddy, frame him for the murder, collect the money Floyd and I needed, and live happily ever after. It seemed so simple.”

  “Nothing is simple,” Momma Peach told Felicia and heard thunder rumble in the distance. She checked the clock hanging on the left wall. “We have a few hours until midnight,” she told Felicia, “so you better take those hours and decide how you want your future to be.”

  “I have no future,” Felicia told Momma Peach and turned away from her. “Floyd is in real trouble. He's going to prison. I'm going to prison. Why would I want to risk my life tonight? Do you really think Bob is going to walk into a trap? He is clever...too clever.”

  “So am I,” Momma Peach promised Felicia and put a hand on her right shoulder. Felicia pulled away, still looking out the window. “Let me help you,” she pleaded.

  “How?” Felicia asked. Her voice became angry and bitter. “Floyd and his stupid gambling!”

  “Bob Connor would have shown up at your front door regardless of your husband's gambling problem,” Michelle said. “Our problem right now is trapping the man. If you help us, I'll do everything in my power to help you, Mrs. Garland. Yes, you'll see prison time, and so will your husband. I spoke to Mr. Finney at the bank. He will be forced to press charges against your husband.”

  “No,” Felicia cried.

  “The question you have to ask yourself now is how much time you want to spend in prison?” Momma Peach said as a heavy rain finally exploded from the clouds looming in the dark, stormy sky and began soaking the earth. “Felicia Garland, girl, you better get your mind straight because as it stands, you are an accessory to murder and that's serious business. If you care about your husband—”

  “Care about him?” Felicia spun around and glared at Momma Peach in agony. “I married him for his money...and then...I actually fell in love with him. How stupid of me, right? I actually started to love Floyd and stopped caring about his money. And now look at us, we're both destroyed...our lives are over. Nothing can fix that. So you can take Bob Connor and shove it, you nosy old bat. If you...oh,” Felicia steamed. “Take a hike,” she finished quietly.

  “Is that really how you want this to end?” Momma Peach asked in a sad voice. She stared at Felicia with eyes filled with pity and sorrow. But Felicia’s demeanor changed as swiftly as the lightning that struck outside.

  “I wanted my daddy dead... I made the poison that killed him, I set him up... I drove him back to the motel the night he was killed...what difference does it make what my choices are now? My life is over, so take a walk off a tall cliff!” Felicia finished in a towering rage, her face contorted with pain as she yelled in Momma Peach's face.

  Michelle walked over to Felicia before the woman had even finished catching her breath after this explosion and slapped a pair of handcuffs on her. “You made the wrong choice,” she said.

  Momma Peach looked Felicia in her troubled eyes. “Your soul is tied up in some serious knots, girl, but in time, if you have faith, you'll get them untied.”

  “Take a hike,” Felicia repeated to Momma P
each in a sour, hopeless voice as tears streamed down her cheeks that her cuffed hands could not reach to wipe away. “I made my bed, now I'll lay in it.”

  “Yes, you will,” Momma Peach agreed. She nodded her head at Michelle. “Take her away.”

  Michelle walked Felicia out of her office, leaving Momma Peach alone. Momma Peach stood in front of the office window and watched the heavy rainfall. A streak of bright, yellow lightning raced across the night sky again and vanished. Seconds later, thunder exploded and rattled the windowpanes of the office. “Let it rain,” Momma Peach whispered. “Snakes don't like coming out in the rain.”

  A few minutes later, Michelle walked back into her office, closed the door, and made her way over to Momma Peach. “Bob Connor was at the bank when he called and made his threat,” she told Momma Peach. “Right now, I have enough to make an arrest.”

  “He'll walk if you do,” Momma Peach promised Michelle. “We have one thief and one deadly woman behind bars. Now let's go catch us a killer.”

  “How?” Michelle asked. “I agree with Felicia, Momma Peach. That man isn't going to walk into a trap and I'm not even sure what you're up to. How are you planning to take down Bob Connor tonight? And before you answer, I have to remind you,” Michelle lowered her eyes in misery, “that my job is on the line, Momma Peach. I trust you...but if we fail to make an arrest tonight...let’s just say this could backfire easily, and I know exactly how that will go. I'll get fired and never be allowed to work in law enforcement again. The mayor is already demanding answers and my boss is wanting an arrest made tonight.”

  “You'll have your arrest, I promise.” Momma Peach patted Michelle's hand. “Now listen to me, the snake we're after is going to have his fangs out tonight, filled with venom and ready to strike. He scared me something awful. His eyes are cold and soulless. And that's what I’m counting on.”

  Michelle looked up into Momma Peach's loving face that was filled with purpose. She saw a piece of her heart in Momma Peach's eyes. “I trust you, Momma Peach. Tell me what to do.”

  “That's my baby,” Momma Peach smiled and pulled Michelle into her warm arms. “Oh Michelle, after this night is over you and me will take a ride down to Savannah and take a walk around Forsyth Park and then stroll down to River Street and get us an ice cream cone apiece and watch those big ships wander up and down the river. But right now, we have work to do, and—”

  Before Momma Peach could finish her sentence, the door to Michelle's office opened and Mandy’s beautiful eyes popped into view, her parents walking into the room determinedly at her side. “We decided that it wasn't right leaving you alone,” Mandy's daddy told Momma Peach apologetically. Mandy ran over to Momma Peach and hugged her.

  “I'd rather die than leave you,” Mandy cried into Momma Peach's arms.

  “Oh, Mandy,” Momma Peach said as tears cascaded from the younger woman’s eyes. She wrapped her arms around Mandy. “You're soaking wet...you'll catch pneumonia! And is this a new dress you're wearing?”

  “Daddy thought a new dress might cheer me up when we left town,” Mandy sniffed and looked up into Momma Peach's eyes with a sad puppy face. “But I couldn’t bear to stay away. I love you, Momma Peach. Whatever dangers there are, we'll face them together.”

  “Together,” Rosa agreed.

  Momma Peach looked up at the doorway and saw Rosa standing there with her grandparents. “We will not run scared,” Rosa's grandmother said and made angry fists. “We will stand beside Momma Peach.”

  Rosa walked over to Momma Peach and hugged her so tight that Momma Peach nearly lost her breath. “We're a family,” Rosa said and finally started crying. “I love you, Momma Peach.”

  “My babies,” Momma Peach cried and pulled Mandy and Rosa into her arms. “Oh, my sweet babies are home with me.” Momma Peach looked at Michelle. “Get over here.”

  Michelle walked over to Momma Peach. Momma Peach grabbed her and pulled her into the family hug. “My babies!”

  Outside, the thunder rumbled and the dark rain continued to fall. And meanwhile, across town, a figure in dark clothing stationed himself in the woods with a rifle in his hands, carefully training its sights on the Eagle Pine Motel. “Tonight, you die,” the voice spoke in a vicious whisper. “Tonight, you die, Momma Peach.”

  Chapter Eight

  Momma Peach drove her old convertible Volkswagen Beetle up to the front lobby of the filthy motel and parked. The rain was pouring down so hard from the sky that it pattered loudly on the closed roof of her car, and she wasn't sure how the car managed to even stay on the road – and her eyesight, oh give her strength, only by grace did she manage to see enough of the road to stay alive. “Testing, testing?” she spoke into the car, just loud enough to be heard over the raindrops.

  “I hear you loud and clear,” Michelle's voice came through a miniature two-way radio earpiece in Momma Peach's left ear. “I already parked. I’m working my way into the woods right now.”

  “Be careful.”

  “After I search the area I'll make my way to the motel,” Michelle told Momma Peach. “Any sign of Bob Connor?”

  She spotted a Mercedes Benz sitting in the rain-washed parking lot. “His car is parked in front of the room where Mr. Graystone was found dead,” Momma Peach said, straining her eyes through the rain. “I'm going into the front lobby.”

  “Be careful.”

  Momma Peach turned off the car, reached into the passenger's seat, grabbed a blue umbrella, and climbed out into the rain. She looked around carefully as she opened the umbrella. The room Mr. Graystone died in was dark. Momma Peach nodded, bit down on her lower lip, and slowly walked up to the front lobby. The light of a single lamp was shining through the lobby's front window. Momma Peach approached the window and looked through. She shuddered, then looked closer. “Mark Thompson is lying on the floor in a puddle of blood,” Momma Peach spoke in a low voice over the two-way. “I better check on him. Looks to be unconscious.”

  “I don't like this,” Michelle replied over the radio as she maneuvered past one wet tree after another, searching the midnight terrain for any traps.

  “I know,” Momma Peach said, still quietly. “Let me play this game.”

  Momma Peach walked away from the window and entered the lobby. The lobby smelled of liquor and cigarette smoke. “Mr. Thompson?” she called out. “Mr. Thompson, are you all right?”

  Mark Thompson didn't move. Momma Peach closed her umbrella and leaned it against the front door. “Mr. Thompson,” she said and eased closer. “It’s Momma Peach, Mr. Thompson. Can you talk to me?” Mr. Thompson didn't respond, but she saw his chest rise and fall ever so slightly, and the twitch of his eyeballs behind his closed lids told her that he was fully aware that she was in the room.

  Momma Peach bent down next to Mark's body and studied the pool of blood around his head. The blood was fake. She could smell the corn syrup in it from a mile away, even in the stink of that filthy motel lobby. But she knew to play the fool; at least for the time being. “Mr. Thompson?” she asked.

  “Hello, Momma Peach,” a voice spoke with deadly calm and perfect evil.

  Momma Peach stood up. She saw Bob Connor stand up from behind the front counter wearing a black rain jacket and holding a camera. Bob grinned and began snapping photos of Momma Peach next to Mark's body. “Okay, that should do it,” he said.

  Mark looked up at Momma Peach, laughed, and struggled to his feet. As he laughed, the liquor on his breath was a foul stench in her nostrils. “You think you're so smart, don't you,” he said in a hateful tone. The fake blood dripped stickily from his unwashed hair down to the collar of his shirt. “Well who just got played, huh? Tell me, you lousy cow. Who just got played?”

  “You did,” Momma Peach told Mark wearily and tossed a thumb at Bob Connor. “You think that snake is going to let you live? He's going to need a body to go with those photos he just took of us, you dumb donkey.”

  Mark's face went from spiteful to terrified in a split second. “Hey
, wait a second,” he said and looked at Bob, “you said if I helped you, you would pay me five thousand dollars and let me leave town in one piece.”

  Bob set down the camera on the front counter and pulled a gun out of the right pocket of his jacket. “I lied,” he told Mark and coolly aimed the barrel at him, preparing to pull the trigger.

  Momma Peach, against her better judgment, stepped in front of Mark in order to protect him. But this, too, was part of the game. “You already killed Mr. Graystone. Don't kill another man.”

  Bob searched Momma Peach's face. He then reached down and yanked a black walkie-talkie from a holster on his belt. “Any sign of the police?” he asked.

  “She came in alone,” a voice answered back roughly. “We're in the clear.”

  Bob put the radio back in the holster at his waist. “You actually came alone?” he asked curiously and then focused on Mark. “Down on the ground.” Mark dropped down onto the filthy floor with a whimper and covered his head. “You're going to die tonight. But first I want to know what game you're playing. Why did you come here alone?”

  “You killed Mr. Graystone,” Momma Peach told Bob and then kicked at Mark’s side. “Get up and be a man.”

  “You be a man,” Mark cried out in a cowardly voice that was suddenly very sober.

  Momma Peach rolled her eyes. “You knew this man killed Mr. Graystone and didn't do a thing about it.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Enough,” Bob yelled and aimed his gun at Momma Peach. “Yes, I killed Graystone, and I'm going to kill you. But how you die is up to you. Slow and painful or quick and painless,” Bob said and pulled a small, clear glass vial out of the left pocket of his jacket. “If you give me the answers I want, you will die a painless death.”

  “What answers?”

  “What game are you playing?” Bob demanded again.