Not Peachy, Mate Read online

  Michelle quickly untangled Momma Peach and Evan, helped them both stand back up, and looked around. “That scorpion didn't get into that truck all by itself,” she insisted.

  Momma Peach cringed and shook all over. “Nastiest little thing I have ever seen. Yes sir and yes ma’am.”

  Evan brushed dirt off his clothes. “If someone put that scorpion there, they might have done something else, too. Best check under the hood,” he said and cautiously went to the hood of the truck, opened it, and studied the engine. “Battery is missing...battery cables are cut.” Evan slammed the hood, shaking up the scorpion. He walked back to Momma Peach and Michelle. “That's it, then. The only way you're reaching town is on foot, unless you want to go slow as molasses in my dune buggy again.”

  Momma Peach glanced around. The idea of walking to Greenglow on foot in the boiling hot sun was as appealing as taking a bath in a pot of boiling oil. “I will melt, Mr. Evan. Yes sir and yes ma’am, I will melt down to the bone if she tries to walk a mile in this heat. Oh, give me strength, give me strength!”

  Michelle thought back to Vermont, to all the snow, and then studied the blazing heat. “Why can't we have a murder take place in a nice, temperate climate?” she sighed.

  “Because all the deranged minds in this world like nasty weather, just to add to our misery,” Momma Peach replied. “Oh, give me strength, I done got myself trapped in the outback with a killer on the loose...give me strength...give me strength.” Momma Peach shook her head and hurried back inside. “Patrick...who did this to you?” she asked, softening her voice and smoothing back his wild red curls. “Who killed my sweet baby?”

  Michelle looked at Evan, shook her head, and joined Momma Peach. “I'll find a blanket and cover the body.”

  “Good,” Momma Peach agreed. Michelle went into a small bedroom off the living room, pulled a green blanket off a worn-down bed, and walked back into the living room, preparing to shake the dust free. Momma Peach stopped her. “Easy...Patrick was a good man. Let's treat him with respect.”

  “You bet,” Michelle assured Momma Peach and with delicate hands smoothed the blanket over Patrick's body. “What now?” she asked. “We have to contact the authorities.”

  Momma Peach looked toward the kitchen area and spotted a rust-spotted fridge and stove next to the crooked wooden kitchen table. “I don't understand it,” she told Michelle.

  “Understand what?” Michelle asked, frustrated. She took Momma Peach's hand, walked her to the couch, and sat down, looking her directly in the eyes. “Momma Peach, who is Patrick Walker?” she asked and motioned around with her hand. “It appears this man was very poor…he doesn’t even have a phone to contact town…how in the world did you two even meet? I'm sure you didn't meet him here, and from the looks of it he didn't have the money to travel abroad.”

  Momma Peach placed her hands together. “Patrick came into my bakery on a mighty cold and rainy morning,” she explained. “Oh...that was about ten years ago.”

  “I'm all ears, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach drew in the scent of old cigar smoke. “Same smell now as it was then,” she said. “Patrick liked to smoke cigars.” Momma Peach looked down at the green blanket covering his form. “Oh, he was a funny man...charming, too...and a flirt. Why that man could flirt a woman's ears off in five seconds flat, yes sir and yes ma’am. But oh, he was such a sweet soul.” Momma Peach felt a tear drop from her eye. “Sweetest soul to walk this planet...yes sir and yes ma’am.”

  Michelle watched Momma Peach wipe her tear away. “What was Patrick doing all the way in Georgia?”

  Momma Peach kept her eyes low. “Working,” she said in a simple voice. “You see, Patrick is...was...a scientist...one of them geologists. He came to America to study one of them volcanoes out in Washington state on some kind of grant.”

  “Washington is a long way away from Georgia, Momma Peach.”

  “Sure is,” Momma Peach nodded, “but Patrick has a distant cousin living in our town or somewhere nearby that he wanted to meet before he flew back home to Australia.” Momma Peach felt another hot tear fall from her eye. “Patrick, that sweet soul, ended up visiting with me more than his cousin. Oh, we had such laughs...Patrick was so silly...never without a joke.”

  Evan leaned in the doorway and listened to Momma Peach talk. “Patty was a good man,” he agreed. “Shame he never married or had children.” Evan tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “The land was Patty's love.”

  Michelle felt the sweltering heat begin to get to her. “I need some water. Evan...will you pour me a glass?”

  Evan looked toward the kitchen and the large clay water cistern sitting on the kitchen counter. “I could use a glass myself.”

  “Me, too,” Momma Peach added.

  Evan walked into the kitchen, found three glasses in a cabinet, and filled them with a wooden dipping ladle in the little cistern. “Here you go,” he said and carried two of the glasses over to Momma Peach and Michelle and then went back for the third. “This water doesn't come from a pipe.”

  Momma Peach didn't care where the water came from, she was so thirsty in that moment. However, when she took a drink and tasted the water, she nearly fainted. “Oh my...this water...it’s the sweetest tasting water I have ever had.”

  “It's delicious,” Michelle added in a stunned voice. “I've never tasted water like this before in all of my life.”

  Evan drained his glass of water. “It’s just our normal water. The water that comes from the water spot,” he explained and then looked down at Patrick. “I hope Patrick wasn’t thirsty when he died. He loved this water especially.”

  Momma Peach lowered her glass. “Mr. Evan, Patrick never struck me as the type of man who was poor. When we met ten years ago, he sure pulled his wallet out more than once. How come he's living in these conditions?”

  Evan put down his glass. “Patrick isn't a poor man by far,” he explained and immediately regretted his words when he saw the interest on their faces.

  “Oh?” Momma Peach asked. “Fill my ears. I need all the details.”

  “Please, talk to us,” Michelle pressed Evan. “A man is dead and we need answers. If he was rich, that could be a clue to the murderer’s motive.”

  Evan sighed, walked to the front door, and peered out into the bright sun. The day was void of humans as usual. He explained to Momma Peach and Michelle that the only humans who ever showed up in Greenglow were the occasional tourists who got lost, a petrol delivery truck to fill the tanks at the station, or a supplies delivery truck that stopped by once a month. Other than that, the locals, who consisted of a hardy handful of people, stayed on their land and didn't venture out much until sunset. At sunset, their ranching work through, the locals gathered at the town building, sharing drinks and passing the time. “It used to be that way,” Evan whispered, “until Mitch Taylor showed up. Now all of my friends have wandered away.”

  “Why?” Momma Peach asked.

  Evan kept his eyes on the rugged landscape. “All of my friends have left Greenglow. Only Patty stayed,” he told Momma Peach in a voice that showed anger and hurt. “They've all been run off.”

  Michelle stood up. “Why? Who would do that?”

  Evan sighed. “Mitch Taylor,” he confessed in a miserable voice, turned away from the bright sun, and looked into the dim living room. “Mitch Taylor scared my friends off...but please...don't ask no more. I mind my own business and I don't...want to end up like Patty,” Evan pleaded. “I'm not a coward but I have no chance of winning against a wild snake like Mitch Taylor.”

  Momma Peach read the desperation in Evan's voice and shook her head. “I ain't intending on causing you any trouble. All I want is the rat that killed my sweet baby. And maybe if we take care of him, we can solve a few other troubles around this town.”

  Evan shook his head. “I don't see how Mitch could have killed Patty,” he told Momma Peach and then focused on Michelle. “Anyone headed out here would have to pass my garage. There's no
way to get past my garage without me hearing you.” Evan tossed a thumb at the front door. “There's no sign on the land that shows me someone came in from the other side...and...” Evan stopped. “It doesn't even look like Patty has been dead too long...wouldn’t a body smell by now?” He sniffed the air.

  Momma Peach looked at Michelle. Michelle shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe someone paid for a professional to do the hit,” she suggested in a quiet voice, knowing that professionals could have techniques far beyond what the locals here might be familiar with.

  Momma Peach didn't know. All she knew was that she wasn’t leaving Australia until she captured herself a killer. Yes sir and yes ma’am.

  Momma Peach wasn't happy about leaving Patrick's body alone. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was leave her old friend behind in an empty, stuffy house. But what could she do? The local police had to be contacted. So she loaded back into the dune buggy with Michelle and let Evan drive them back to Greenglow. “My, this little buggy is sure fussy,” she said as the dune buggy coughed and clattered back toward Greenglow, spitting out black exhaust along the way.

  Michelle studied the dry land as the dune buggy crawled back toward town. “Anyone could have walked to Mr. Walker's home on foot and killed him,” she said.

  Evan shook his head. “Not possible,” he explained. “The open side of the land—”

  “All the land is open,” Michelle interrupted.

  Evan shook his head. “You're not from Greenglow,” he replied in a patient voice. “People in Greenglow call the side of the road all the houses sit on the open side of the land.”

  “Why?” Momma Peach asked.

  Evan pointed off to the distance. “On that side of the road, back a ways, is a deep ravine that runs parallel to Greenglow. The ravine isn't deep...oh, maybe two meters deep, but all the houses in town have been built on the side of the road away from the ravine, on the open side. That way no one has to cross a ravine to get to their ranching land, see? Only my garage and store sits on the ravine side, I reckon.”

  “How far away is the ravine?” Momma Peach asked.

  “Oh...maybe two to five kilometers from the main road,” Evan explained. “The ravine runs north and south like an ugly scar. Some years the ravine grows a bit...an inch...maybe two at the most. Some years she sits still. Depends on how the earth is moving under it.”

  “What does this have to do with the open side of the land?” Michelle asked in a confused voice.

  “The open side of the land spreads out forever,” Evan explained. “Nothing out there but angry snakes and spiders that will kill you faster than you can blink. I haven't met a man yet that's willing to walk the open land in this heat. Last man who decided to go for a walk on the open land was never found. You’d have to be plum crazy to try it.”

  Michelle shook her head. “Evan, people can carry water canteens, maps, portable GPS systems, first aid kits...sunscreen. This isn't the cowboy days. We have technology and—”

  “Technology isn't worth two cents out here,” Evan told Michelle as he pulled the dune buggy up to his garage and turned it off. “Man can carry water, sure, and carry a map and a rifle and all kinds of stuff, but the land doesn't care what you carry.” Evan pointed up at the sun. “The sun makes the land very unfriendly.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Evan held up his left hand. “People...scientists...governments...believe they have the entire world mapped out. They send eyes up into the stars to look down at the earth and believe they see and know all. Only God sees and knows all, and only God knows His earth. We're just little clay men running around pretending we know everything when, in fact, we know nothing.” Evan pointed out at the land. “No man knows this land and never will. No man knows the bottom of the oceans or the top of the mountains. Why? Because the earth is a mystery that can't be conquered by man.” Evan eased out of the dune buggy. “You can take all the water and maps you want to and go walk the open land, but that don't mean you'll come out alive.”

  “You make it seem like people don't have enough sense to follow a map?” Michelle asked, jumped out of Momma Peach's lap, and looked at Evan. “People have the skills to survive, Evan. We send men and women into space, send submarines under the ocean and send expeditions to the coldest reaches of Antarctica.” Michelle brushed dust off her leather jacket. “We have men in the military who can move to one point of the planet to the other in their sleep. We have—”

  “You come from a land that is conquered,” Evan interrupted Michelle. “The land you see before your eyes will never be conquered.” Evan helped Momma Peach down from the dune buggy. “When you see traffic jams, tall buildings, government offices and coffee shops out here then we can talk.”

  Michelle shook her head. What was the sense in arguing? She had a headache and still had a very hot and long day ahead of her. “Okay, Evan, so let's assume no one walked to Mr. Walker’s home and killed him. That leaves several other possibilities.” Michelle pointed at the dune buggy. “The front road isn't too far from us. Someone could have driven across the open land from the front road and reached Mr. Walker's house.”

  “Land wasn't disturbed,” Evan told Michelle stubbornly. “I can tell when the land has been disturbed.” Evan turned and walked into a garage filled with greasy auto parts, a few wooden chairs, and a run-down 1967 Volkswagen sitting on concrete blocks. A small room off to one side, Momma Peach saw through a glass window, held a dusty cot, a water cooler, and a satellite radio that ran off batteries.

  “How do you live without power?” Momma Peach asked, wiped sweat off her forehead, and sat down on a greasy chair.

  “You can't see it,” Evan told Momma Peach, “but there's some solar panels in the back of my store. Just enough to keep the coolers going. Some of the other houses on the open side of the road have solar panels, too.” Evan plopped down in a chair that had a water bucket sitting next to it. He reached his hand down into the water and fished out three cans of soda. “Here,” he said and handed Momma Peach and Michelle each a can.

  “Civilization,” Michelle joked with relief, opened her can, and took a sip. “Not bad...just a little warm.”

  Momma Peach took a sip of her soda, leaned back in her chair, and looked out at the dune buggy baking in the heat. “Solar panels, huh?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Evan nodded. “Sure beats them old generators we used to have.”

  “If I were you, I would attach some solar panels to your garage and get some air conditioning going,” Michelle suggested. “It's baking hot in here, even with the shade.”

  Evan shook his head no. “Man has to become friends with the heat or he'll lose his way,” he explained. “Way back, people didn't have air conditioners. Maybe a paper fan or a cold bath once a week. People took what the day created and made friends with it. If a person got hot he went for a swim. At night he slept out in the cool. During the day he found shade.”

  “That's right,” Momma Peach agreed. “You tell it like it is. Back in the good old days folks weren't spoiled like they are today.”

  “I'm not spoiled just because I like air conditioning,” Michelle pointed out.

  Momma Peach chuckled to herself. “Please don't hate me for saying this, but you can barely go through your day without running to the donut shop for a fancy coffee.”

  Michelle bit down on her lip and blushed. “I guess that's true,” she confessed and then added: “I guess I am a little spoiled with the conveniences our modern society offers. I like my coffee and I love my donuts. I like my hot showers and couldn't go without my television. How would I fall asleep at night if I couldn’t watch reruns of I Love Lucy?”

  Evan felt a smile—worn down and tired, but a smile nonetheless—touch his face. “My wife loved Lucy, too. She thought Lucy and Ethel were funny.” Evan worked on his soda. “Lucy gave me a sour taste at first. I thought she was stupid and annoying. But,” Evan said as he slowly began to relax, “the more I watched the show with my wife the more I c
ame to like it.” Evan tossed a thumb toward his store. “There's a small television set in my store. Used to pick up a channel or two.”

  Momma Peach took a sip of her soda. “Mr. Evan?” she asked. “I need to change the subject and ask you a question about Patrick.”

  Evan, feeling safe now that he was back in his garage—back on his territory—looked at Momma Peach. “I want to mind my own business,” he told Momma Peach in a stern but gentle voice. “Patty is dead. Maybe Mitch did sneak past me and kill him. I don't think that's the way of it, but it could be. I do take a nap a time or two in a day.” Evan finished off his soda and tossed the can into a black trash bag sitting in the corner. “Patty is dead and I'm still alive. If I want to stay alive, it would be wise if I kept my mouth—” Before Evan could finish his sentence he heard the sound of Mitch Taylor's truck in the distance. “Not again,” he groaned, stood up nervously, grabbed a rusted gas can holding water, and walked outside just as Mitch pulled up. “Your pouch should be still full—”

  But Mitch Taylor wasn't interested in water. His truck crashed into the edge of the building at a slow speed, crumpling the hood a little. The man slowly opened the driver's side door with a weak, dying hand, stumbled out, and dropped down onto the ground. Evan dropped the gas can and ran over to Mitch, bent down, and checked the man. As he did, a snake slithered out of the truck. Evan froze. “Don't move!” he called out in a loud voice. “That's a desert death adder.”

  Momma Peach grabbed Michelle and pulled her back into the garage. “Stay back,” she whispered.

  “This type of snake usually won't attack unless it's provoked,” Evan whispered, watching the snake staring at him. “If we just stay very still...”

  Michelle wasn't interested in standing still. She bent low, grabbed her gun, dropped down on one knee, and took aim at the snake just as it began slithering toward Evan. “Cover your ears, Momma Peach.” Momma Peach threw her hands over her ears and watched Michelle place four bullets into the snake just as it began to strike.