Peachy Villains Page 7

  Michelle studied the complex web of bank transfers outlined in the paperwork before them. “The proceeds are clearly going to shell companies that funnel the profits into campaign contributions...this one was sent to the America Forever PAC, that’s a political action committee. But if you look closely, there’s just hundreds of these PACs listed here. They’re moving millions and millions and concealing the source and the amounts. These people are buying Washington, Momma Peach, plain and simple.”

  “Yep,” Momma Peach said and continued to study the papers. “What we don't have here, baby, are names. We have locations, dates, amounts, shell company lists, but no names.”

  “Names would have been helpful,” Michelle agreed. “However, I have enough evidence here to keep the circus in town and Lionel Hayman and Lindsey Sung behind bars for a while. At least long enough to start questioning the people working at the circus. I'm sure some of them might talk once they see Lionel Hayman and Lindsey Sung are behind bars.”

  Momma Peach fished out a peppermint from her pocketbook and tossed it into her mouth. “I’m not happy, baby. This political nonsense is one thing, but most of all, I don't like evil snakes hoarding good medicine that innocent folk need.”

  Michelle closed the folder in her hand and set it down on her desk. “Momma Peach, Lionel Hayman and Lindsey Sung are just the low-lifes at the bottom of the ladder. It's the bosses perched at the top that we have to worry about. We're dealing with power and money, Momma Peach.” Michelle rubbed her cheek. “The people we're fighting against aren't worried about a small town cop on their tail. They could easily erase me and you without blinking an eye.”

  “What are you trying to say, baby?” Momma Peach asked Michelle in a worried voice. “Are you saying you want to back down from a fight?”

  “Momma Peach, I have you to worry about, more than anyone. But I also have Able in my life now...and Sam, dear sweet Sam who is becoming like a daddy to me. And then there's Mandy and Rosa, too. Momma Peach, I love those girls,” Michelle explained. “I could never forgive myself if anything ever happened to anyone of you. I know the information we have sitting before us gives me enough legal power to arrest Lionel Hayman and Lindsey Sung and keep the circus in town...but if I do...who knows what might follow?”

  Momma Peach understood Michelle's worry. “Baby, if we back off and let evil people sell healing medicine to other evil people while innocent babies suffer, why, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

  “Momma Peach, the people we're up against will just find another channel to smuggle their medicine through,” Michelle said in a fearful voice. She looked up at her friend and was stricken to see the look of surprise on Momma Peach’s face. “Oh, Momma Peach, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...” Michelle lowered her eyes in shame. “What am I saying? I'm putting my own personal fears and feeling before my job. I have a duty to perform, regardless of the dangers.”

  “That's right, baby. Now you raise those pretty eyes and look up at me.” Michelle raised her eyes and looked at Momma Peach. “You're a fighter, baby. Never forget that. And never forget that I am proud of you, no matter what. You could throw your towel into the ring right now and I would dance praises around you. So don't you ever—and I mean ever—think bad of your precious self, because I know the truth.”

  Michelle felt honor wash through her heart. “Thank you, Momma Peach.” Michelle drew in a deep breath and then grabbed her phone and picked it up to dial. “Yes, this is Detective Chan, get me Judge Morris.”

  Momma Peach beamed. “That's my girl.”

  Three hours later, Michelle arrived at the circus with a squad of police officers and all the warrants she needed to take care of business. She walked toward Lionel Hayman's trailer under a clear blue sky blowing with autumn’s wind.

  Lionel was standing near his trailer with Lindsey Sung at his side. Lindsey had been unsuccessful in pealing any useful information from the employees, which left his hands tied. He certainly couldn't pull the circus down and run before locating and retrieving his stolen papers. Then he saw Michelle walking toward him with a squad of police officers, and he knew the tent was about to fall for good.

  “Lionel Hayman and Lindsey Sung,” Michelle said in a tough cop tone, “I am placing you both under arrest.” Michelle presented a copy of the arrest warrants and handed them to Lionel and Lindsey. “Office Barnett, read them their Miranda Rights and haul them out of here.”

  Lindsey narrowed her eyes and stared at Michelle. “We'll continue our fight,” she promised.

  “Anytime,” Michelle whispered. “But first I'm going to get justice for two dead men who didn't deserve to die.”

  Lionel felt his stomach turn weak. “There has been a misunderstanding,” he said, attempting to keep his voice calm and cool. “My attorney will not be pleased.”

  “Where is your attorney, Mr. Hayman?” Michelle asked and glanced around. But the man only sputtered and had no reply.

  As Michelle looked around just then, she spotted Lidia standing near the elephant Melanie. From what she could see, it appeared that Lidia was holding a shaky hand over her right eye. She quickly jogged over to Lidia and gently pulled the woman's hand away from her eye. An ugly, dark bruise appeared. “Who struck you?”

  Lidia fought back tears. “I can't say,” she answered in a trembling voice. “Please, my life is in danger.” Lidia turned away from Michelle and focused on the elephant lying on the straw next to her. “Melanie's life has been threatened, too. If I talk, Melanie will be killed.”

  Michelle gazed at the reclining elephant, whose large eyes were sad and depressed. The sweet elephant obviously knew her trainer's life was in danger. “Lindsey Sung struck you, didn't she?”

  Lidia didn't answer. Michelle gently touched the scared woman's shoulder. “Please,” Lidia begged, “I have to think about Melanie.”

  “I'm shutting this circus down, you’re safe now,” Michelle told Lidia and pointed at Momma Peach, who was standing in the distance near the main tent. “Melanie is going to be fine. We even found her a home and Millie Frost is going to give you the money to buy Melanie,” Michelle explained. “But I have a feeling you won't need to buy Melanie now.”

  Lidia slowly turned and faced Michelle. “What are you talking about, Detective Chan?”

  “I'll explain—”

  “Hey!” A police officer yelled in a loud voice.

  Michelle spun around and saw Lindsey Sung kick Office Barnett in the chest and then sidekick a second police officer in the face; both police officers went crashing down to the ground like bags of wet sand. Before anyone else could react, Lindsey grabbed Lionel and stood him between herself and the remaining officers. She then kicked his chest so that he was shoved into the officers, knocking them all over, and used the momentum from the kick to flip backward and twist nimbly in the air. She landed, took off at a sprint and vanished around the side of Lionel's trailer.

  Michelle didn't waste a second. She dashed forward on legs like lightning and chased after Lindsey. When she ran around Lionel's trailer she saw Lindsey jumping a fence located in the far rear of the fairgrounds. Thick woods lay beyond the fence. “We'll continue our battle, cop!” Lindsey yelled at Michelle and ran off into the woods.

  “Maybe sooner than you think,” Michelle said, running to the fence and preparing to jump over it. But then she paused. Something in her gut warned her to stay out of the woods. Michelle clutched the fence and stared into the unknown with adrenaline and anger pumping in her veins. The woods suddenly changed from innocent, south Georgia woods into a dark, untamed forest filled with silent enemies. “Run, girl,” Michelle whispered and walked away.

  She found Momma Peach standing beside Melanie. “Lindsey Sung has escaped,” she said in a worried voice and threw a glance at Officer Barnett. She wanted to scold the man but knew better. Lindsey Sung was a trained, skilled assassin and he was a simple cop with a few extra pounds sagging over his belt. Officer Barnett slapped a pair of handcuffs on Lionel and
looked down at the ground in shame. The other officers were wiping grass and mud off their uniforms from when Lindsey Sung had knocked them over in the fight.

  “Baby,” Momma Peach told Melanie, “you're going to stay with me. Later, when Detective Chan gives the green light, I will have Mr. Sam come and fetch our sweet Melanie in a trailer, okay?”

  Lidia was too tired to argue. Her mind was focused on Melanie's well-being. “Okay,” she said. “I don't really have much money right now. A kind favor like that would be nice.”

  Momma Peach looked at Michelle. Michelle was staring at Officer Barnett as he walked Lionel Hayman over to the patrol car. “How bad is it, baby?” she asked.

  “Lindsey Sung isn't leaving town anytime soon,” Michelle warned Momma Peach. “That woman is a hired killer. She'll die before she abandons a mission.” Michelle slowly drifted her eyes over to Momma Peach. “Lindsey Sung isn't going to leave until we're all dead,” she promised.

  Momma Peach felt a cold chill walk down her spine. “Baby, surely not—”

  “Momma Peach,” Michelle interrupted, “we're all sitting targets now,” she said and walked over to talk to Lionel Hayman through the open door of the squad car where he sat, handcuffed. “If you want to live, you better start talking, pal.”

  “If I talk, I'm dead,” Lionel spat in contempt. “Please do tell your goons not to forget my cane, will you?”

  “Get him downtown,” Michelle told Officer Barnett and walked into Lionel's trailer. A few moments later, Momma Peach joined her. “Momma Peach, we're in some very serious trouble. I wasn't counting on Lindsey Sung escaping.”

  Momma Peach stood very still and looked around the trailer. The circus was in town but the main event wasn't very funny. No sir and no ma’am, the main event wasn't funny at all.

  Chapter Five

  Momma Peach examined a pink and white clown costume. The clown costume was vintage silk and very valuable. “That was my very first costume,” an old man’s voice spoke up in a thick Russian accent. Momma Peach lifted her right finger and ran it down the sleeve of the costume. Images of black and white circus days whispered through her mind as wonderful circus music played, filled with the smell of popcorn and the sounds of laughing children. “The old days are gone.”

  “Yes, they are,” Momma Peach agreed. She turned away from the costume and focused her eyes on Max Moroz. Max Moroz gazed back at Momma Peach with a large cigar in his mouth and a head full of thin gray hair. The old man was small, thin and appeared very sickly. His wrinkled face was very pale and his eyes bloodshot. Yet he somehow managed to appear very intelligent in the simple blue silk shirt he wore over a pair of tailored brown trousers. “Did Mr. Hayman or Lindsey Sung kill Mr. Potter and Mr. Greenson?” she asked in a respectful voice.

  Max remained sitting on the brown sofa in his small trailer. His trailer was filled with old world circus antiques from the old days—each relic preserved with loving hands; hands that were old and wrinkled now, but still moved with the same love. “Yes and no,” he told Momma Peach. “One man was killed for a reason you do not expect and the other man was killed for a reason you do expect.”

  Momma Peach nodded her head. She pointed to a wooden chair stationed close to the couch. “May I sit down?”

  “Please.”

  Momma Peach settled herself in the chair. “Mr. Moroz—”

  “Call me Max,” Max told Momma Peach and puffed on his cigar. “My mother was a performer perhaps, the same as me. She presented me with a very interesting stage name, no? Mister Max Moroz?”

  Momma Peach watched cigar smoke float in the air. The smoke smelled expensive and cozy. “Yes,” Momma Peach smiled, realizing that a Mr. Max Moroz without a cigar would seem very strange. “Max, baby, talk to me. By now you know Lindsey Sung—”

  “Awful creature,” Max stated.

  “Yes, she is,” Momma Peach agreed. “That awful creature has escaped.”

  Max worked on his cigar. “Lindsey Sung,” he said in a calm voice, “is a killer. Yes.”

  “Did she kill Mr. Potter?”

  “No,” Max answered.

  “Did she kill Mr. Greenson?”

  “Yes,” Max answered. “During the night I saw her enter his trailer. I have very clear eyes. Good eyesight, all my life.”

  Momma Peach steadied herself. “You didn't actually see Lindsey Sung kill Mr. Greenson, though, right baby?”

  “My soul felt her kill that man,” Max explained and tapped his heart.

  Momma Peach nodded her head. She had no doubt that Lindsey Sung was the person who killed poor Mr. Greenson, rest his soul. She wasn’t sure how Michelle would present Mr. Max’s soul as evidence to a judge, however. “Do you know who killed Mr. Potter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Talk to me,” Momma Peach told Max in a caring voice. “I am searching for answers.”

  Max Moroz stared at Momma Peach through heavy cigar smoke. “Mr. Potter was a very fine, skilled performer.”

  “I’m sure the poor man was.”

  “The person who killed Mr. Potter is very clever, yes?”

  Momma Peach shrugged her shoulders. “I don't think no killer is above the law.”

  “Ah, the law,” Max said and grinned. “The laws men chain themselves to.”

  Momma Peach made a funny face. For a mere second, Max almost sounded like Lindsey Sung. “You are a clown. You worked with Mr. Potter and—”

  “I supervised,” Max corrected Momma Peach. “My days of performing are over, yes?”

  “I'm very sorry to hear that.”

  Max nodded his head and puffed on his cigar. “Age is not an enemy that we can escape from,” he explained. “I am seventy-five years old and have over fifty years of my life performing for others as a simple clown. Two years ago my body forced me to quit.”

  Momma Peach heard bitterness in Max's voice. “Retiring can be very difficult.”

  “Yes, it can,” Max agreed and then grew very silent and puffed on his cigar. The cigar smoke drifted around clown costumes, a vintage make-up table that he told her had been hand-carved in Ukraine, plastic tubes of face paint, red rubber noses, colorful scarves, worn-out clown shoes, silly masks, and other items that mingled with the life of a clown like old friends. “I was one of the greats in Russia,” Max finally spoke.

  “Oh?” Momma Peach asked.

  “Yes,” Max stated in a very serious, proud voice. “The name of Max Moroz was respected among every performer. When I entered the ring to perform, every eye turned, envious of my skills.” Max closed his eyes. “I was Max Moroz, the Great Clown of Comedy. The Greatest Performer, they called me. No other man could match my skill.”

  “If you were successful in Russia, what brought you to America?” Momma Peach asked.

  Max opened his eyes with anger and sadness. “I was shamed,” he whispered. “Many years ago I was brought to disgrace by a group of men who were jealous of me. These men conspired to ruin me...and succeeded. I was forced to flee in...disgrace.”

  “What happened, baby?” Momma Peach asked Max.

  Max closed his eyes again. “I am a man who drinks only water,” he explained. “I drank a gallon of water each day. But I have never allowed liquor to touch my lips.” Max shook his head with pain. “I prided myself on my strength, but I admit at times I became…a little fatigued. So before some performances, I would self-administer a vitamin shot. Just Vitamin B, you understand. Nothing illegal,” he hastened to add. “It was all prescribed by my doctor, in fact.”

  “Keep going,” Momma Peach told Max, deliberately not calling him 'baby' anymore.

  “The men who conspired to destroy me replaced my vitamin shot that night with alcohol. I became very intoxicated and shamed myself,” Max confessed in a sad voice. “I have very little memory of that awful night, yet, I was told I even...insulted innocent children.”

  Momma Peach nodded her head. “Mr. Greenson concealed liquor in Mr. Potter's drink before a performance.”

 
“Yes, I know,” Max told Momma Peach. “I saw Mr. Greenson do so.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes,” Max said, “but I did nothing. Why? Because I was jealous of Lance Potter.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Lance Potter was the only man who matched my skill...not only matched...but defeated. When I saw Mr. Greenson placed poison into his drink, I did nothing, simply because I wanted Lance Potter to face disgrace,” Max explained. “Does that make me a cruel man? Perhaps it does. Jealousy is a very ugly cancer.”

  Momma Peach bit down on her lower lip. Max Moroz was becoming creepier, to her mind. Her warm impression of a tired but genteel old man was quickly cooling with the smell of danger. “Why did you ask me to speak with you?” she asked Max.

  “Mr. Max Moroz does not like cops,” Max stated, smiling faintly. “I also have a conscience even though I do not like the law.” Max placed his cigar into a metal ashtray sitting beside him on the couch. Then he leaned forward and picked up a gallon jug full of water and took a drink. “It is good to drink water, yes?”

  “Yes,” Momma Peach said and waited.

  Max took another drink of water and then put down the plastic jug. “I am a man of conscience,” he repeated and looked into Momma Peach's eyes. “Do you understand these words?” he asked.

  “I am beginning to think that I do,” Momma Peach said and slowly wrapped her hand around the strap of her pocketbook. “You killed poor Mr. Potter.”

  Max locked his cold eyes on Momma Peach. “If that is so, then you must prove your accusation, yes? A man would be insane to confess guilt...yet he would be guilty if he did not have a conscience, yes?”

  Momma Peach stood up. “Don't play games with me, you rotten old skunk!” she warned. “It's been over two weeks since I have had a rest from this bedeviled circus and I ain't in no mood to play games with the likes of you! Oh, give me strength, give me strength, the circus is in town and I am dealing with some peachy folks.”