A Peachy Mess Page 2
“I see a lot in your eyes,” Momma Peach whispered as she fished her room key from the left pocket of her dress and unlocked the door to her room. Momma Peach walked into the comfortably furnished room with its hardwood floors and walls smothered in old western paintings. A king-sized bed stood in the middle of the room covered with a brown and white quilt. A simple round reading table was nestled up against a window covered with heavy white curtains. A wooden chest of drawers stood along the front wall under a round mirror. There was no television set or phone, and now Momma Peach wondered if that was related to the solar power situation Sam had told them about. Momma Peach grabbed her pocketbook off the bed and made her way back to Michelle. “Well, Michelle,” she said, returning her room key to her pocketbook, “As much as I love the cool air, I don’t want to stand in this lobby all day. I want to visit the souvenir shop.”
“Sure,” Michelle said and forced a weak smile to her worried face.
Momma Peach spotted Mrs. Milkson, who was exploring the books on the bookshelf in the hotel lobby. Strange – but Momma Peach didn’t have time for Mrs. Milkson just now. “Come on, Michelle,” Momma Peach said and walked back out into the heat.
A scrawny looking excuse of a man was crossing the street. The man appeared dirty and from his unsteady walk, drunk as well. His face was skin and bones – his whole self was practically plain skeleton – and ugly. A plain brown baseball cap covered his greasy hair. The baseball cap matched the short sleeve, button-up shirt the man was wearing over a pair of gray slacks. The first thing Momma Peach noticed about the man was that despite the dust that clung to him everywhere, she could see even from a distance how white his arms were. “That must be one of them seasonal workers Sam told us about,” she told Michelle.
Michelle eyed the man with suspicion. “There are two RV's parked behind the motel, I checked them out last night, actually. One RV has a license plate from New York and the second RV has a license plate from California,” Michelle told Momma Peach. They watched the man pull open the front door to the souvenir shop and walk inside. “The RV with the New York license plate belongs to him. The other RV belongs to a husband and wife couple from California.”
“Good,” Momma Peach told Michelle and patted her shoulder with an approving hand, “you're staying sharp for me.”
“Am I?” Michelle asked and searched the street with her eyes. A weary sadness seemed to weigh her down. Sam's red pick-up truck was parked in front of the hotel, along with a Blue BMW and the gray Honda Accord Michelle had rented for their road trip. The Blue BMW belonged to Mrs. Milkson. No other vehicles were in sight.
“Michelle,” Momma Peach said in a calm tone, “you believe your friend Ben is dead, don't you?”
“Yes,” Michelle said miserably. “Momma Peach, Ben was a homicide detective in Los Angeles. I received a letter from him asking for help. He didn't say why he needed help. And then I received his postcard. I tried calling him but I was told Ben was on personal leave.”
“I see,” Momma Peach said and let her thoughts latch onto some urgent questions. “All the postcard you got in the mail said was ‘Ben,’ right?”
“Yes.”
Momma Peach nodded. “And that brilliant mind of yours is confident the handwriting on the postcard belonged to your friend.”
“I'm absolutely certain.” Michelle focused on Momma Peach. “Ben was telling me to meet him in this little town, Momma Peach.” Michelle looked down at her hands. “Ben and I…have a history. When I arrived in America from China, I lived in Los Angeles. Eventually, I decided I wanted to become a cop. I met Ben at the police academy. Boy,” Michelle said and shook her head, “were we young and green behind the ears.”
“You're not some old momma cow, you know,” Momma Peach pointed out to Michelle.
“I’m a lot closer to forty than I am twenty-one,” Michelle replied ruefully.
“I would love to see forty again, baby.”
Michelle couldn't help but smile. Momma Peach always made her feel safe and loved. “I guess I have some good years left in me,” she told Momma Peach.
“Many, many, good years,” Momma Peach promised. “Now, tell me all about Ben Fleishman.”
“Ben is – Ben was Jewish,” Michelle began slowly, “smart, funny, witty...charming.” Michelle blushed. “He swept me off my feet.”
Momma Peach smiled. “I bet he did.”
“He was so different from the rest of the cadets,” Michelle explained. “Ben was daring and thought outside of the box. He was a bit impulsive and liked to prove how smart he was, which earned him a few enemies at the academy. Ben...well, he had something to prove to himself and the world, it seemed to me.”
“Some men are like that,” Momma Peach replied.
Michelle nodded her head. “Ben graduated top of our class. It didn't take him long before he started climbing up the ranks, leaving us...leaving me...behind.” Michelle sighed. “He changed. We slowly drifted apart as his career became his life. When he caught the 'Beach Killer' his career skyrocketed. After that, I barely saw him. Eventually, I left Los Angeles and ended up in Georgia. Los Angeles became...too...strange for me to handle anymore. I couldn't find myself in that city.” Michelle looked at Momma Peach. “But there were also too many reminders of what we could have been. Of what I thought we were going to be.” She paused and looked down a moment. “But in the end, it was Ben who helped me get the job as senior detective in Bakersville, Momma Peach. Sure, we never saw much of each other, but he sent a very high recommendation on my behalf. And...”
“And what, baby?”
Michelle looked down at her hands again. “I owe Ben a lot...I owe him my life.” Michelle drew in a deep breath. “Ben saved my life once. We were rookies at the time. Ben was still working as my partner. We were working third shift. One night we stopped at an all-night gas station to grab some coffee. As soon as we pulled up in front of the gas station, two men burst outside and began shooting at us. Ben yanked me down onto the seat...just as a bullet scraped across the top of my head. If Ben hadn’t pulled me down onto the seat when he did...I wouldn't be standing here today.”
“I’m very grateful for Ben Fleishman.”
“Me, too,” Michelle said gravely. She looked deeply into Momma Peach's eyes. “Ben was not the type of man to ask for help, Momma Peach. He had many friends on the force, but if he came to me, that means it was something big, something he couldn’t tell to an insider. Ben came to me for a reason. And,” Michelle added in a determined voice, “I know he was here in this town.”
Momma Peach soaked in the information Michelle had spilled to her and then wiped sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief. “Come on, let's go pay Sam a visit.”
Michelle followed Momma Peach across the street. Heat, impossible heat, reflected up from the pavement and wavered in the dry air like a curtain. The heat grabbed at Momma Peach's legs. “Oh, give me strength,” Momma Peach said, walking across the street. She quickly shielded her eyes with her hands and glanced up at the bright sun. The sun grinned at her fiercely. Momma Peach sighed. “I’m gonna melt into a puddle of peaches.”
Michelle opened the front door to the souvenir shop. Cold air shot out. “It's cool inside, Momma Peach.”
Momma Peach hurried through the front door with relief and walked into a clean, organized, comfortable shop. She looked gratefully at the air conditioner sitting in the back window of the room throwing out cold, refreshing air. But the large, dark shape in the middle of the room startled Momma Peach, and she cried out and stumbled backward into Michelle, crying, “Oh, save me!”
Michelle quickly caught Momma Peach as the woman practically fainted, and then closed the front door behind them and walked Momma Peach to a small bench. As they crossed the old wooden floor that creaked under their every step, she looked up to see the huge, stuffed buffalo that had startled Momma Peach so badly. Michelle laughed briefly, taking in the shop’s displays of paintings and photos of the old west, with wooden she
lves holding t-shirts, sunglasses, hats, plastic toys, fool’s gold and other tourist trinkets. She stepped closer to the buffalo and noticed it stood on a wooden platform with a small metal label that simply read ‘Hank.’
Sam was standing at the front of the room behind a wooden counter, looking at Momma Peach in amazement. The scrawny man was standing in front of the counter, too. “Is he real?” Michelle asked Sam as she pointed at the buffalo.
Momma Peach placed her hand over her heart, trying to catch her breath. “I need to become a cat because I’m going to need nine lives to survive this place,” Momma Peach mumbled under her breath. She shot Sam a stern look. “You could have warned me, Sam.”
Sam grinned. “Old Hank won't hurt you, Momma Peach.”
The scrawny man wasn't amused. He stared at Momma Peach coldly, as if annoyed by the interruption. “Anyway, I'll hang around for a while,” he told Sam in a bored voice. “It's not likely we'll get many visitors in this heat.”
“Never can tell,” Sam replied. “Don't matter much anyway. Jack and Melinda can handle the place today. You go ahead and drive up to High Cliffs and get what you need, Andy.”
Andy Dannity pulled a toothpick out of the front right pocket of his pants and popped it into his mouth. “Yeah, might as well. Jack and Melinda won't have any problems cleaning the rooms after they check out. I'll just get in their way,” Andy said and walked over to the front door. Momma Peach looked into his eyes as he walked past. Andy yanked the door open and walked outside without so much as a goodbye.
Sam shook his head and then focused on Momma Peach. “Andy is good with his hands but not with people,” he told Momma Peach.
“I see more than that,” Momma Peach said and carefully stood up from the bench and eased toward the cooler near the counter, keeping a safe distance from Hank. She pulled two cold bottled waters from the cooler and put them on the counter. “That thing is looking at me,” she whispered in a spooked voice, “its eyes are following my every move.”
Sam grinned at Michelle. Michelle shrugged her shoulders. “I'm still working on the list,” he said.
“What list?” Michelle asked, confused.
“The list of everyone who has been through here in the past two weeks,” Sam explained. Momma Peach began reaching into her pocketbook. “On the house, Momma Peach,” Sam said with a wink.
Momma Peach looked up into Sam's eyes. “Don't try and butter me up,” she fussed. “I don't like pranks.” Momma Peach glanced over her shoulder at Hank and shuddered. “I'll have nightmares tonight for sure. Yes sir and yes ma’am.” Hank stared at Momma Peach with amusement in his kind eyes.
“I got old Hank about ten years ago from a man who was closing down his Old West show. Old Hank was the mascot,” Sam explained. “Folks like to have their picture taken with him. Kids like to sit on him. Momma Peach, do you want to sit on Old Hank and have your photo taken?”
“Are you crazy?” Momma Peach yelled. The color drained from her face. “Me, sit on that spooky creature? Why, you've let flies into your brain, Sam! And I don't like flies!”
Michelle let a giggle slip from her lips. Sam tipped her a wink. “Well, the offer is always open.”
“I'll offer you,” Momma Peach said and nearly swatted Sam in the shoulder with her purse. Sam quickly backed up and laughed.
“Sam, that man who just left. You called him Andy. Can you tell me about him?” Michelle asked. She walked up to the front counter. Momma Peach handed her a bottle of cold water. Michelle opened the bottle and took a drink. Momma Peach followed suit, and they were both grateful for the refreshing drink on such a hot morning.
“Andy Dannity is his name,” Sam said and cautiously leaned toward the antique cash register. “I always send the Nevada Department of Labor my job postings about a month before I open for business. A few people apply, mostly retirees or drifters. Out here, beggars can't be choosers. This year, the pickings were really slim. The three people I hired were the only ones to show up asking for work.”
Michelle looked at Momma Peach with worried eyes. Momma Peach nodded. Outside, the sun continued to scorch the dry earth.
Chapter Two
Momma Peach and Michelle waited for Sam to reveal more about the employees that had turned up this year. They needed every clue they could get. Sam smoothed down his mustache with careful fingers, thinking. “I usually get about five to ten people, mostly retired couples, who apply when I advertise openings for seasonal work,” he told Michelle. Momma Peach was staring at Hank with cautious eyes. Sam shook his head. “I was surprised when only Andy showed up asking for work. Jack and Melinda floated into town the following morning.” Sam stopped rubbing his mustache and leaned forward on his arms. The wooden counter creaked and moaned under his weight. “I waited five days to see if any more people were going to show up, but the wind roared into town alone.”
“Where did Andy, Jack, and Melinda stay while you were waiting?” Michelle asked, standing at the front door with her back turned to Sam, gazing out at the street.
“I let them park behind the hotel,” Sam explained. “I liked Jack and Melinda from the start. They're good people. I wasn't interested in hiring Andy. He was the reason I was holding out. But truth be told, the man is skilled with his hands. His attitude is sour, but his hands are useful. When my hands came up empty, I decided to hire Andy.”
“Where was Mrs. Sam?” Momma Peach asked Sam.
Sam rolled his eyes. “My wife already kicked up dust and left town to go sit with her sister,” he said ruefully.
Momma Peach turned away from her wary vigil in front of the stuffed buffalo and read Sam's eyes. Something in the man's eyes worried her. “I wonder if Sam's marriage isn't going so great?”
“Momma Peach could be right,” Sam confessed. “Stephanie, that's my wife...well, we just can't seem to get along with each other these last few years. I know it's hard on her living way out here, but I never forced her to live here. I offered to buy a place in High Cliffs and commute back and forth to Gold Dust, but she refused. I was kinda glad, too. I like our little apartment over at the hotel. And for a while, it seemed Stephanie did, too.”
“I’m listening, Sam,” Momma Peach promised Sam. Michelle turned away from the front door and rested her eyes on Sam's troubled face.
“I'm sixty-four years old, Momma Peach. Stephanie and I met when life was young.” Sam shook his head. “Where did the years go?”
Momma Peach patted Sam's arm with her right hand. “Our years are like a puff of smoke. Keep talking to me.”
Sam looked into Momma Peach's sweet, caring face. “I worked on my family’s horse ranch. Stephanie showed up on an early, damp morning to examine a thoroughbred racehorse named Lightning Legs.” Sam leaned up and folded his arms together. “Ladies, let me tell you, Lightning Legs was something special, and I knew it. My folks knew it, too. But my old man, he had a soft heart and didn't have the stomach to haggle with people over prices, but I sure did. Stephanie's old man set his heart on Lightning Legs and was determined to buy him under price. No way was that skunk going to steal that beautiful creature. I remember I argued with him, going around and around, standing firm on the price my folks had set. Stephanie wasn't too pleased with seeing a stranger fussing with her old man and she finally jumped into the fight and insisted that I was being, and I quote: 'Impossible.'”
Momma Peach imagined a beautiful thoroughbred horse in her mind. She saw the horse running free through bright green fields dotted with blue and yellow wildflowers singing to a clear, warm, blue sky. “You were a stubborn donkey, huh?” Momma Peach asked Sam.
“I guess I was,” Sam admitted. “I refused to lower the price one penny. But wouldn't you know it, Stephanie’s old man caved in and agreed to pay full price. That made Stephanie mad as a wet hornet, too. Which was why I was surprised to see her show up the next morning and rent a horse to go trail riding.” Sam rolled his eyes. “She even requested me as her guide. I sure wasn't happy about being told to
take a snobby brat trail riding after I’d just spent the day previous haggling with her old man.”
“But love blossomed on that trail,” Momma Peach said with a dreamy, knowing smile.
“Yeah, I guess it did. Stephanie and I ended up getting married a short time later. I quit working for my folks and started working for her old man at his bank...started wearing a suit and tie, feeling like a stuffed donkey every day. I knew from the start I made a mistake agreeing to work for Stephanie’s old man, too. I sure liked the horse ranch and was heartbroken when my folks sold it off and moved to Flagstaff to be close to my mother's sister. But love...boy, was I ever a stupid, blind, young man.”
“You regret marrying your wife?” Michelle asked in surprise.
Sam shrugged his shoulders. “No, I regret...” Sam paused. His face went sad. “I regret love being shoved into the corner and left there to collect dust. I love my wife, ladies...I loved her from the moment I first saw her and I know my wife loved me.”
“Mrs. Sam don't love you anymore?” Momma Peach asked gently.
Sam sighed. “Maybe yes...maybe no... I don't know,” he answered honestly. “Maybe the move out to Gold Dust was too much for her. All I know is that after working for her old man for many years, I knew it was time for a change.” Sam looked at Momma Peach. “I'm money smart, Momma Peach. I know how to invest a few pennies and get some back in my favor. I was smart when I worked for Stephanie's old man, too.”
“Momma Peach can see that, baby.”
Sam actually smiled. No one ever called him 'baby' before in his entire life. Momma Peach made him feel like a child wrapped safely in his mother's womb. “Years back, when I was working at the bank, I took a business trip to Denver. On my way back, I decided to do a little sightseeing because I sure wasn't in any rush to get back to Los Angeles.”
“And that's how you came across this little bump in the road, right?” Momma Peach asked.