A Peachy Mess Page 8

  “So we'll tie a safety rope,” Michelle argued doggedly.

  “And what would happen if that spook reappeared and cut your safety rope?” Sam asked Michelle, struggling to contain his anger. “Did you ever stop and think whoever Momma Peach saw doesn’t want us to go down into the caves?”

  “Mr. Sam is right,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “The man is making good sense.”

  Michelle gritted her teeth and kicked over the old desk. The desk toppled over on its side and shattered. Decayed pieces of wood splintered across the floor as the desk disintegrated as if going to a long-awaited grave. “We can't just stand here and—” Michelle stopped. Beneath where the desk had stood was a dark hole. “Is that the opening?”

  “Yes,” Sam said and stepped up to the dark hole. Cold air rushed out of the hole and began roaming around the stuffy, hot room. Sounds of low howling winds echoed up from the depths below. “Looks like someone removed the concrete I laid down, too.”

  Momma Peach stepped up to the hole and looked down into the deep darkness. “Mr. Sam, we need to cover up this hole.”

  “I will, Momma Peach,” Sam promised. “I have some extra bags of concrete in my blacksmith shop.”

  Michelle cast her eyes down into the hole. The darkness of the cave beyond it quickly sobered her angry mind. “You're right,” she whispered at Sam, “it would be foolish to go down there. Whoever is down there would lead us to our deaths.”

  “I’m glad to see Michelle talking some sense,” Momma Peach said and backed away from the hole. “I wasn't going spelunking anyways. I ain't going underground until the Good Lord says it's my time. Oh, give me strength, give me strength.”

  “Leave or die,” a deep voice floated up from the dark hole just then. “Leave or die.”

  Momma Peach froze. The color drained from her face. “Did...you hear...that?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  “Leave or die,” the spooky voice spoke again and then quieted.

  “Oh, give me strength,” Momma Peach yelled and ran out of the courtroom, out into the rain, and straight back to the hotel, ignoring the storm and the heavy falling rain.

  “Go get the concrete, Sam,” Michelle said tiredly. “I'll stay here and stand guard. Whatever it is, we have to seal it up.”

  Sam nodded and hurried out of the courtroom. He returned twenty minutes later with a rusted wheel barrel holding the supplies he needed to re-seal the dark hole with concrete. The old floor nearly caved in from under the weight of the wheelbarrow, but held. Michelle stood guard as Sam patched over the hole, using the half-rotted top of the old desk as the surface to pour the concrete on. “That'll have to do for now,” he said and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  Michelle studied the concrete patch with weary eyes. “Maybe it would be better to drop dynamite down the hole and hope for a cave in,” she told Sam.

  Sam patted Michelle on her shoulder. “If I had any dynamite I would do just that,” he promised. “I'm going back to the hotel to check on Momma Peach. Are you coming?”

  “Shouldn't one of us stand guard?” Michelle asked.

  “Detective,” Sam said in a worried voice, “my gut is telling me there is more than just one entrance to the caves.”

  “Are you sure?” Michelle asked.

  “Look around on the floor,” Sam replied, “there's four sets of footprints in the dust. The footprints belong to you, me, Momma Peach and the killer. If the killer had brought Mrs. Milkson's body through this room...well, it just seems that the dust on the floor would be more disturbed, that's all.”

  Michelle walked around the room carefully and examined the dusty footprints. “Sam, you have the makings of a fine detective,” she said with satisfaction as she stepped gingerly toward the hallway that led out of the courthouse and back to the hotel.

  Sam lingered a moment and studied the concrete patch. “Why?” he asked in a pained voice and then walked out into the storm.

  Henry Neilson thought Michelle was beautiful. He watched her smooth the rainwater out of her hair with fascination and infatuation in his eyes. So what if he had a girlfriend? Michelle was something else…and older, to boot. He sauntered up to her in what he thought was a sophisticated way, but showed his youth and cockiness in an unflattering light. “Maybe we can, you know, get a bite to eat later?” he asked her.

  “Take a hike, junior,” Michelle snapped wearily at Henry and walked away from him over to the bookshelf.

  Jack grinned at Melinda. “Boys will be boys,” he said.

  “Yes, they will,” Melinda agreed, watching Henry walk away back to his room with slumped, defeated shoulders. “Poor kid.”

  Momma Peach shook her head at Michelle. “You have to be gentle with that boy's feelings.”

  Michelle put the gray comb she was using to comb her hair back into the side pocket of her leather jacket. “I guess I was a little rough on the kid,” she admitted and looked at the front door. “Maybe I should go check on Sam. I thought he was right behind me. He's been gone for a while.”

  Sam opened the front door to the hotel and stepped inside carrying a plastic take-out tub, the rain streaming off his hair and shoulders, just as Michelle had decided to go back out into the storm. “I figure everyone might be getting hungry,” he said, “so I made a pit stop at the restaurant.”

  “That's dangerous,” Michelle scolded Sam. “You could have been attacked…or even killed.”

  “Michelle is right,” Momma Peach fussed at Sam. She stood up from the armchair, walked over to Sam, and slapped him in the back of the head. “We're a team, remember? Don't you make me go crazy on you. I’m growing mighty fond of her Mr. Sam.”

  Sam sat the plastic tub down on the front counter and rubbed the back of his wet head. “We can't work on empty stomachs, Momma Peach,” he defended himself.

  “I know, baby,” Momma Peach softened her voice and patted Sam's hand, “but I’d rather be hungry than see Mr. Sam get hurt.”

  “Same here,” Michelle said.

  “The same goes for us,” Jack added.

  “Exactly,” Melinda finished. “But, since you did go get us food, there's no sense in letting the food go to waste.”

  “I made sandwiches,” Sam explained, “and brought over some water. I hope everybody likes peanut butter and jelly.”

  “I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Momma Peach smiled. She looked into Sam's face and saw a man that she admired and respected; a man she wished she could take home to Georgia with her in order to make her own town a better place. Momma Peach knew a horrible mystery had to be solved first – a mystery that was slowly tearing Sam's heart apart.

  Sam opened up the plastic tub and sat the lid down on the front counter. “Dig in,” he said and walked over to the sitting chair and plopped down. Momma Peach retrieved a sandwich and a bottle of water, walked over to Sam, and flashed a kind smile down at him. “Does Mr. Sam want to talk to me? Seems to me that Mr. Sam has a load of bricks weighing down his mind.”

  Sam glanced up at Momma Peach. He was wet, tired, upset and confused. But somehow Momma Peach's warm face kindled a fire within his heart and dried out his fatigue. “You do know what I'm thinking, Momma Peach,” he said.

  Momma Peach nodded and took a bite of her sandwich. “You know how to balance out the peanut butter and jelly,” she smiled.

  “It's a talent,” Sam tried to joke but the smile failed on his lips. He looked over at Michelle and saw her reach into the plastic tub and fish out a sandwich. “I guess I should have known...somehow...” he said miserably. “I was hoping...Stephanie wouldn't have anything else to do with her old man. I mean, the man was a criminal for crying out loud.”

  “Mrs. Sam didn't go to Los Angeles to sit with her sister, did she?” Momma Peach asked.

  “Oh, I'm sure she did,” Sam told Momma Peach. “I called Fiona and she confirmed that Stephanie was with her.”

  Momma Peach took a second bite of her sandwich and listened to the winds howling outside as sh
e savored the delicious peanut butter. “Mrs. Sam's daddy was released from prison, wasn't he?”

  “Two years ago,” Sam confessed, “about the same time Stephanie and I began having problems.” Sam closed his eyes. “Why, Momma Peach?” he asked. “Why would my wife do this? What is she expecting to gain? Why...does she hate me? Is it because she couldn’t have children and blamed me for that? Why?”

  Momma Peach saw pain grip Sam's face. “Oh, Sam,” she said in a soothing voice, “this ain't your fault. Some women are just bitter, that's all. I have seen my share of bitter women, too, yes sir and yes ma’am.” Momma Peach didn't feel that her words carried any help and looked down at her wet shoes that dripped on the polished floor of the lobby. “I don’t have a good answer for you and she is sure sorry for that, too.”

  Sam opened his eyes. “If Stephanie is involved, that means there must be gold in those caves,” Sam said, clearing his voice and putting on a thoughtful, stern face. Yet his eyes remained sorrowful. “I think Stephanie might be trying to...retake what she believes was stolen from her. I think...Momma Peach, I think Stephanie was involved with her old man and his crimes and that's why she wanted to leave Los Angeles and decided to stay way out here in the desert with me. After her old man was hauled off to prison, fear must have really gripped her heart.”

  “I think you might be right,” Momma Peach told Sam. “I also think we got a whole lot of thinking to do, too. Andy Dannity is missing. I’m wondering if that snake was sent out here by Mrs. Sam? I’m wondering who else might be hiding down there in those dark caves, too. I want to know what Ben Fleishman knew and why poor Mrs. Milkson, rest her soul, was killed. Did that woman see something she shouldn't have or was she involved with Mrs. Sam somehow? Oh, give me strength, because I’m chewing on more than this here peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Sam.”

  “One thing is for sure,” Sam told Momma Peach, “we're cut off from the world and trapped in this storm. We were warned to leave, too. But we all know leaving town before the storm ends would be very foolish. By now the dry creek bed has most likely flooded out the valley to the west and the low dips in the road to the east are most likely becoming large lakes as we speak.”

  “What happens if we start getting flooded right under our feet?” Momma Peach asked in a worried voice.

  “We make a swim for it,” Sam answered in an honest voice. He stared into Momma Peach's eyes without pretense. “Gold Dust sits on a slight hill. Most of the water out there on the street is going to flow east, toward the low dips in the road. There's a lot of deep crevices out there in the desert, Momma Peach, that will fill up first. I'd say we have less than twenty-four hours before we're in serious trouble. But even then, we might have to crawl up on the top of this hotel. I don't think the flood waters will get high enough to reach the roof. If the flood waters do reach the roof...we call the state patrol and then…we swim.”

  “Oh, give me strength,” Momma Peach begged. “I will float out to the Pacific Ocean and the sharks will eat me alive.”

  Michelle walked over to Momma Peach and soothed her with an arm around her shoulders. “Rain seems to be falling a lot heavier, too,” she told Momma Peach and focused on Sam. “Sam, I'm not an expert on solar energy, but correct me if I'm wrong, don’t your solar panels need sunlight to produce energy?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes,” he explained. “Right now, the solar panel batteries are charged to their maximum capacity. This storm won't affect the panels themselves. I have all the power turned off to every building we’re not using, so the batteries should last even longer. The hotel is pretty charged up and should stay lit for another forty-eight hours without any problems. The air conditioner unit adds a strain, but we can handle it.” Sam rubbed his wet beard. “I believe in paying top dollar for quality merchandise. I ordered my solar energy outfit from a company in Israel that is leading the world in solar power energy development.”

  “The Israelis are brilliant people,” Momma Peach stated proudly. “Yes sir, those wonderful people are sure God's chosen.”

  “Ben was Jewish,” Michelle said almost in a whisper as she sighed. She looked down at the sandwich she was holding in her right hand. “Sam, I'm sure the man you call Mr. Talley was Ben.”

  “It's possible,” Sam agreed. “Unlike most hotels, I don't make copies of folks’ driver's licenses and require them to write down their life history. I'm a simple man, Detective Chan, and like to keep things simple. I also like to trust people and believe most people still have some good in them. I refuse to live my life treating my neighbors like they're my enemies. The man said his name was Mr. Talley and I believed him. I didn't have any reason not to. I hope you can understand that, Detective Chan.”

  “I do,” Michelle replied. “And I respect your honesty.” Michelle listened to the storm wail outside. “Sam, did you see any vehicles drive through Gold Dust that didn't stop...or did someone stop for maybe, say, an hour or two, and then move on?”

  “No,” Sam confirmed, “I have a very sharp memory and I remember every car and every face. The people on the list Jack created are the same people that would have been on my list. With that said, maybe it's possible one of those people could have been a sharp thorn in a pretty rose bush? I don't know. I didn't see Mr. Talley talk to a single soul, but I also wasn't watching him every second, and neither were Jack and Melinda.”

  Jack and Melinda walked over to Sam with the concern written clearly on their faces. Melinda took a bite of sandwich, thinking. “Jack and I have been talking,” she told Sam. “We have decided to stay here when the storm leaves.”

  “You're our boss and our friend,” Jack told Sam. “I'm grateful for all the kindness you have shown Melinda and myself. It would be wrong to desert you.” Jack smiled. “We have your back, Sam.”

  “Preach it,” Momma Peach burst out in happiness, “Oh boy, this is what I love to hear! And don't worry Mr. Sam, baby, because Michelle and I have your back, too.”

  “That's right,” Michelle promised Sam.

  Sam stared up at the warm, caring faces looking down at him. He nearly choked up. “I guess there is still good in people,” he said in a humble and honored voice.

  Jack walked over to Sam and put his hand down on the man's shoulder with love. “You risked your life to bring us food. You didn't have to do that, Sam. Yes, there is good in people, and you're one of the good ones.”

  “I just figured you all might be hungry. You're my responsibility.”

  “We're all each other's responsibility,” Michelle corrected Sam. She walked over to the plastic tub, took out a sandwich and bottle of water, and walked back to Sam. “Eat and drink,” she ordered him lovingly and placed the sandwich and bottle of water into his hands. “We're going to have a very long night ahead of us and we all need our strength.” He shared a smile with Michelle.

  Just then, Henry opened the door to his hotel room, peeked out at Michelle, and decided to swing at a fastball for a third time. He carefully walked up the hallway, trying to act very cool and suave, and approached Michelle. “I have a new album that just came out in my room. Want to listen to some songs with me?”

  Michelle rolled her eyes. Oh yes, she thought, it was going to be a very long night. “Kid, why don’t you...” she began to snap and then caught her mouth. “Uh, maybe later, okay. Right now I have work to do.” Michelle walked over to the plastic tub, fished out five sandwiches, and loaded Henry down. “Take these sandwiches to your family, okay,” she smiled.

  Henry looked into Michelle's beautiful face. He was surely in love. “Sure thing,” he said and walked off with dreamy eyes. Momma Peach chuckled to herself. Henry was sure turning out to be a little hurricane himself.

  In the darkness underneath the courthouse, a woman growled at Andy Dannity. “I told you to leave town.”

  “My bike broke down,” Andy said in a scared voice. He hated being down in the caves. The caves terrified him. The sound of icy, dripping water echoed in his ears. “I'm sorry.”
/>
  The woman gritted her teeth at Andy and walked away down a long tunnel carrying a kerosene lamp. The light from the lamp cast a creepy light on the black cloak covering her body.

  Chapter Six

  Momma Peach sat down on the bed in her room and began drying her hair with a clean, warm, white towel. She felt good being back in her usual blue dress with white stripes. Oh yes, Momma Peach liked wearing pretty dresses, but when she was on a serious case, there was no time to try and look pretty, no sir and no ma’am. Momma Peach did her best thinking when she wore her favorite blue and white striped dresses. Why? Because she was habitual and set in her ways. She didn’t care if folks found it strange that she had a closet full of identical dresses – if folks couldn't understand or appreciate her style and her methods, then that was for their own stubborn brains to deal with. Momma Peach had work to do and some very deadly criminals to catch and she couldn't carry on her work wearing a wet pink dress that had seen the trials and tribulations of the hottest day that had turned into the deadliest and stormiest day she had ever seen. No sir and no ma’am. It was time to get back to looking like her old self and cover her hair with her favorite pink cloth – after she dried her hair, of course. No sense in letting herself catch a cold. “Baby?” she called to Michelle, “a hot shower wouldn't hurt.”