What a Peachy Night Read online

  “Baby,” Momma Peach told Amanda as she filled out the paper, “a wise woman does her own cleaning and laundry. Old Mitchel Clark down at Eastside Cleaners never was the best at taking care of other folks’ clothes. The man is older than time and can barely see. He hires teenagers who work on the cheap to earn a quick buck in order to save a buck himself.”

  “I know, I know,” Ms. Bright admitted in a miserable voice. “But I’m a career woman, I don’t always have time to do my own laundry…besides, I'm seeing a man who might ask for my hand in marriage, Momma Peach. And everyone knows my marriage to Harold ended very messy. Jake is a good man.”

  “Jake Millson is also a fine preacher,” Momma Peach pointed out.

  “Yes, he is,” Ms. Bright agreed. “But he might not think so highly of me if he finds out that I don't know how to iron a simple blouse or cook a decent meal.” Ms. Bright shook her head. “I've always been horrible at housekeeping, Momma Peach. Maybe I need you to teach me a few things.”

  Momma Peach finished filling out the paper. She reached forward and patted Ms. Bright's hand. “An iron can be a woman's best friend or worst enemy. You just keep taking your clothes down there to Old Mitchel Clark for the time being. If your gentleman truly loves you, he will not be concerned about a few spots and wrinkles, I can tell you that much. I guess if you’re truly worried about it, though, go buy you some old shirts from the thrift shop and start practicing how to iron. You need a few pointers on how to handle the tricky parts, you come down to see me some Saturday and I’ll show you my technique.”

  “I'll try,” Ms. Bright promised. She looked at Timmy. “You're all set.”

  Timmy beamed. “I'm sure glad. Today for lunch we were going to have fish sticks. Yuck.”

  Momma Peach walked over to Timmy and put her arm around him. “I think we'll have some of that awful food down at the diner...if we can stomach it, that is.”

  “Yes, if we can stomach the food,” Timmy smiled knowingly and waved goodbye to Ms. Bright. They walked outside into a fog that was growing thicker by the minute. “Wow, it's like we're on a strange planet or something,” he said, reaching his little hands up into the fog.

  Momma Peach looked around. The fog was quickly pushing her ability to see clearly and make out objects. She knew for a fact a wooden bench was sitting in front of the flagpole, but she could barely see the bench and definitely could not see the American flag. The fog felt thick and suffocating, as if it was a cover for something deadlier than just the usual landscape she expected to be there. “Michelle is parked in front of the flagpole,” Momma Peach told Timmy uneasily. She strained her eyes forward but could not see Michelle's car. She took Timmy's left hand and quickly walked him forward.

  Timmy followed, feeling nervous. Sure, the fog was neat, but it also seemed to be scaring Momma Peach. He could barely see, and he began to wonder if something dangerous could be lurking in the fog. “Momma?”

  “Yes?”

  “I'm glad you came and got me. I've been feeling...kinda scared all morning,” Timmy confessed.

  Momma Peach stopped walking. She looked down at Timmy's sweet face. “Why are you feeling scared?” she asked.

  Timmy shrugged his shoulders and looked around. “I thought maybe...you know...it might be the school bus because...Mr. Mayton is kinda...a grouch. He's never been nice to me. I heard some of the other kids say he's never been nice to anyone. Rumor is he's awful mean on account of the ghosts...because one kid said he killed someone. And Billy said the ghost—”

  Momma Peach rolled her eyes. “Goodness, the stories a bunch of silly kids tell,” she said. “Timmy, don’t spread nasty rumors, okay? Mr. Mayton ain't never killed anyone. The poor man was born a grouch and will die a grouch, but he ain't no killer.” Momma Peach pushed Timmy's bangs out of his eyes. “Mr. Mayton wasn't the reason you were scared.”

  Timmy shook his head no. “Momma, I don't know why I've been feeling scared,” he confessed. “Honest, I don't. I started feeling a little better when I got to school, but not much. I couldn't stop looking out of the window at the rain. Mrs. Harding kinda got mad at me and told me to pay more attention.”

  Momma Peach walked her eyes around the heavy fog. “Let me tell you something. I have been feeling scared, too.”

  “Really?” Timmy exclaimed.

  “Really,” Momma Peach said. She bent down and took Timmy by his shoulders. “Listen to Momma, okay?”

  “Okay,” Timmy said, staring into her loving but very worried eyes.

  “Momma is a piece of paper and you’re glue, understand?” Momma Peach told Timmy. “Wherever Momma is, you are, too. You are not to leave my sight for a second.”

  “Momma, is someone out to hurt us?” Timmy asked. He darted his eyes around in the fog. “Sure is creepy.”

  Momma Peach stood up straight. “Whatever darkness is lurking just out of sight can't be good. Come on.” Momma Peach hurried and walked Timmy to Michelle's car. As she did, she heard someone begin whistling a slow tune behind her. The tune sounded eerily familiar. She froze, spun around, and searched the fog. “Who’s whistling that song?” she demanded in a loud voice as she pulled Timmy behind her.

  The stranger in the fog continued to whistle. The sound of the whistling turned Momma Peach's blood cold. “Momma?” Timmy asked in a scared voice.

  “Run!” Momma Peach ordered Timmy and made a desperate dash toward Michelle's car, dragging Timmy behind her. As she ran, she heard the stranger stop whistling and begin laughing a creepy, cold laugh. When the sight of Michelle's car appeared through the fog, Momma Peach ran up to the passenger side door, flung it open, pushed Timmy down onto the backseat, and then dove in herself.

  “What's the matter?” Michelle asked in an alarmed voice. She automatically unsnapped the gun holster under her jacket as she looked at Momma Peach and then at Timmy.

  “Somebody was whistling in the fog,” Timmy told Michelle. “Sounded real...scary.”

  Momma Peach pulled the back door shut and locked it. “I think I recognize the tune, but—”

  Michele unholstered her weapon, kicked open the driver's door and jumped out of the car before Momma Peach could finish her sentence.

  “Hey!” Old Joe yelled at Michelle from the front seat, “you can't—” he tried to say but stopped speaking when he saw Michelle run off into the fog.

  “Stay with Timmy,” Momma Peach ordered Old Joe. She grabbed her pocketbook, hurried out of the car, and caught up to Michelle, who stopped at the flagpole. “You can't go running off into this fog that way,” she said in a stern but loving voice.

  Michelle narrowed her eyes and studied the fog. “Which direction was the whistling coming from, Momma Peach?” she demanded.

  Momma Peach pointed toward the front doors of the school. “Over in that direction.”

  Michelle nodded her head. “Stay close,” she said and walked through the fog toward the front doors of the school. She found the doors closed. She looked to her left and then to her right. “If we go right, we'll follow a student walkway to the main gym. If we go left, we'll follow a student walkway that leads around to the back of the school where the playground is. My guess is whoever was doing the whistling chose the left walkway.”

  “I agree with you,” Momma Peach said and looked to her left. The fog was too thick to see beyond the side of the school where the pathway turned and went down toward the playground. “Whoever it was, they stopped and laughed when I took Timmy and ran.”

  Michelle studied the fog with her gun at the ready. Every fiber in her being wanted to run to the back of the school and check the staff parking lot, knowing the front driveway and parking lot had been completely empty when they had arrived. “I'm going to check the staff parking lot. Whoever is stalking you must have followed us here in a car. Come on.” Michelle grabbed Momma Peach's hand and ran through the fog. When she reached the staff parking lot, she skidded to a stop and looked around. The parked cars were practically invisible through the heavy layer
of fog. Michelle focused intently and listened for any abnormal sound. In the far distance, she heard a car come to life and drive away.

  “Across the street...in the bus parking lot,” Momma Peach called out. She got her short little legs moving and ran to the end of the parking lot just in time to see a pair of red taillights vanish into the fog. “He's driving toward the country.”

  Michelle grabbed Momma Peach's hand and ran back to her car. She jumped into the driver's seat, waited for Momma Peach to buckle herself into the backseat next to Timmy, and sped off. “Hold on, everyone!” she yelled.

  Momma Peach grabbed Timmy. “Oh goodness,” she said and squeezed her eyes closed, “when my girl sets off on a high-speed chase my life flashes before my eyes.”

  Michelle took a hard right, raced to the end of the front street, squealed left, and raced down a road leading out into the country. She squeezed the steering wheel and focused on peering through the fog.

  “Get your headlights on, girl,” Old Joe fussed. He leaned over and clicked on the headlights.

  “Thanks,” Michelle said, keeping up a steady speed. “You guys better hold on!”

  “We're holding on,” Momma Peach promised and nearly wet herself. “Oh, I am holding on for dear life. Give me strength, give me strength!”

  Timmy grabbed Momma Peach and Old Joe grabbed the dashboard. “Girl, you better slow down in this fog!” he begged.

  “Hush up,” Michelle snapped at Old Joe. “Momma Peach's life is in danger. We can’t let him escape. I don't have time to slow down!”

  Old Joe squeezed the dashboard and waited to crash. But when he spotted a pair of red taillights in the distance, he yelled, “Look...there...see them?”

  “I see them,” Michelle said in a calm voice and stepped on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward and raced down the country road like a speeding bullet. Suddenly, the back left tire blew out. “Hold on!” Michelle yelled and managed to bring the car to a dangerous but controlled stop just in front of a tall, strong pine tree on the side of the road. She raised her eyes and watched as the red taillights faded away into the fog. Michelle hit the steering wheel in fury.

  “We're alive…that's what matters,” Old Joe tried to console Michelle.

  “That's right,” Momma Peach said, prying her eyes open. “Timmy, talk to Momma.”

  “Can't...breathe, Momma,” Timmy whispered.

  Momma Peach looked down. Both her arms were wrapped around Timmy's body so tight the poor boy could barely breathe. “Oh, my sweet baby,” she said and let go of him. Timmy gasped for air and looked at Momma Peach with wide, spooked eyes. “We're okay,” she promised. “Michelle, you better call this in and get some folks out doing a sweep.”

  Michelle pushed the driver's side door open and looked down the country road. “I'm going to catch you...whoever you are,” she promised. “Nobody messes with Momma Peach and gets away with it, do you hear me!”

  An hour later, after having her car towed to the station, Michelle walked into her office with Momma Peach, Timmy and Old Joe. She plopped down behind her desk, pulled the list of names Momma Peach had written down out of her right jacket pocket, and grabbed her phone. “I need some names run,” she said over the phone in a stern voice and started listing the names.

  Momma Peach sat Timmy down in a chair and ran her fingers through his hair. “There, nice and neat,” she said and forced a smile on her face.

  Timmy tried to smile back but couldn't. He was scared and a little hungry. “Momma?”

  “Yes?”

  “I'm a little hungry. I know it's not proper before lunch, but can I have a candy bar?” Timmy asked in a hopeful voice.

  “You sure can,” Momma Peach smiled and touched the tip of Timmy's nose. She reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a few single dollar bills and handed them to Old Joe. “Old Joe, will you go get us all a snack and a drink, please?”

  “Sure, Momma Peach,” Old Joe said. He looked down at the money in his hands and then back up at Momma Peach. “Momma Peach, who is after you, huh? You got to have a hunch of some kind. Don't hold back on me, now. I’m in this fight until the end...for better or worse.”

  Momma Peach reached out and patted Old Joe's shoulder. “Go get the snacks and drinks, for starters,” she said in a tired voice. “I need to do some thinking before I can figure out who whistled at me in the fog.”

  “Sure, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach waited until Old Joe left the office. “I need to think,” she told Timmy, patted him on the shoulder, and walked over to the office window. She opened the blinds covering the window and stared out into the dense fog. “Who is out there?” she whispered in a scared voice. “Who are you and what do you want from me?”

  Far away in the fog, a silver car pulled into the driveway of an empty house with a “for sale” sign in the front yard. “Momma Peach, the fog is a perfect place to play.” A man laughed inside the parked car and then began whistling to himself, low and in a minor key.

  Chapter 2

  “My, I ain't never seen fog so thick in all my years,” Momma Peach finally exclaimed in exasperation and closed the window blinds in Michelle's office. She walked over to Timmy and sat down next to him. “How is the candy bar?”

  “Good,” Timmy replied. “I like peanut butter in my candy bars. Peanut butter and chocolate sure go good together.”

  Michelle felt a smile touch her lips. She sure loved Timmy. “I like peanut butter in my chocolate, too.”

  Timmy watched Michelle pick up a can of Mello Yello and take a drink. He had a Dr. Pepper. Momma Peach had a regular Coke and Old Joe was drinking a Sprite. Old Joe sure was a strange fellow, he thought, but not a bad person. The old man just seemed, well, unsettled inside of himself somehow. Michelle, on the other hand, seemed very settled—and Momma Peach was her anchor. Michelle was nice, and she sure could fight, too. Timmy felt safe when he was near Michelle because he knew the woman loved him and Momma Peach and would protect them. But someday, he thought, he would grow up, learn how to fight, and protect her. “Do you like that yellow soda?” he asked.

  “I sure do,” Michelle nodded her head. “I like Mello Yello and I love peanut butter Twix bars. I don't care much for those chocolate-covered cherries, though.”

  “Me neither,” Timmy agreed. “Those things are gross.”

  “Beyond gross,” Michelle emphasized and drained her soda. “That was good. Thanks, Joe.”

  Old Joe shrugged his shoulders. “I didn't know what everybody liked so I got a bunch of everything.”

  Timmy looked at Old Joe. Old Joe stood beside the office door, munching on a candy bar and studying Momma Peach with worried eyes. “Mr. Joe?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you okay?” Timmy asked, concerned.

  Old Joe let his eyes fall on Timmy's innocent face. The boy sure brought a smile to his heart. “Oh, sure, I’m just fine, son. I’m just wondering who the bad guy is in this mess.” Old Joe looked at Momma Peach. “Momma Peach, you ain't been saying very much.”

  Momma Peach slowly folded her arms and looked down at her pocketbook. “I ain't saying much because I ain't got much to say, Old Joe. I’ve been racking my brain, but I have not been able to come up with a single lead.”

  Michelle tossed her empty soda can into the recycling bin under her desk. “All of our bad guys are tucked away safe behind bars, including Dylan Malone,” she said in her best, most confident cop voice, the one that made Momma Peach proud to hear. She needed her baby to sharpen her claws and prepare to tangle with a wild tiger. “We don't have any leads.”

  “But the bad man we heard whistling in the fog,” Timmy insisted. “He's out there.”

  “I know he is, honey,” Michelle told Timmy, “but there isn't a law against someone whistling in the fog. I can't shut down the entire town and set up roadblocks just because you heard someone whistling.”

  “But...but...he was a bad person. I...his whistling scared me,” Timmy declared. “H
e scared Momma, too...didn't he, Momma?”

  “He sure did,” Momma Peach confirmed. She looked at Timmy with a love that caused Old Joe to truly see the heart beating inside of the woman's chest. “I need you to do me a favor, okay?”

  “A favor?” Timmy asked. He swallowed. “You're going to...ask me to leave, aren't you?”

  Momma Peach nodded her head. “But not like you think.” She pointed at Old Joe. “I called Able and he's going to meet you and Old Joe in Savannah. You're going to stay at a house on Tybee Island that belongs to a close friend. I made the arrangements when you were in the bathroom.”

  “Nice of you to tell us,” Old Joe fussed.

  “Oh, hush,” Momma Peach said. But she said it softly because she did not want to scare little Timothy any more than he already was.

  “I don't want to leave you, Momma,” Timmy said. Tears began leaking out of his eyes. He stood up and threw himself into Momma Peach's arms. “Don't make me leave you, Momma...please. I'll be good. I promise.”

  “Oh, my sweet baby,” Momma Peach whispered and broke out in tears of her own. “I only want you to be safe. When the bad guy is caught, Able and Old Joe will bring you right back home…I promise.”

  “I've arranged an escort for you,” Michelle told Timmy. “Two of the best cops in town are going to drive you all the way to Savannah.” Michelle forced a smile on her face. “You met Able's mother, Timmy. Remember how nice she was?” Timmy nodded his head. Michelle smiled. “Besides, I need someone to watch after Able for me. We all know he's a very clumsy person.”

  “Yeah, he kinda is,” Timmy said and wiped his tears. “You want me to keep an eye on him for you, huh?”

  “Please,” Michelle told Timmy. “If you do, I'll treat you to the world's biggest pizza when you come back home.”

  Timmy focused his eyes back on Momma Peach. “Do I really have to go, Momma?”

  Momma Peach kissed the tip of Timmy's nose. “I'm afraid so. I have a bad guy to catch. I can't have you in any danger. Now listen to me,” Momma Peach sat Timmy down on her knee, “There's a really neat lighthouse on Tybee Island that you can explore.”