A Peachy Mess Page 9

  “I know,” Michelle agreed. She was standing at the window in the room, staring out into the dark storm. “My clothes will dry, Momma Peach. I'm okay.”

  Momma Peach wanted to fuss at Michelle until she agreed to soak her body in a hot shower and change into dry clothes, but she knew that she had a lot on her mind. “Do you want to talk to me?” Momma Peach asked gently.

  Michelle stood silent for a few minutes and listened to the rainfall and the rolling thunder. The storm was settled in over the town and not moving an inch. “Ben is dead. I know he is. Now it's my duty to find out who killed him and why. What was Ben involved with that got him killed?”

  Momma Peach continued to dry her hair. When a powerful eruption of thunder shook the room, she was startled anew and nearly fainted. “Oh, give me strength, give me strength,” Momma Peach cried out and grabbed her chest as if to still her heart from galloping off without her.

  The thunder didn't seem to scare Michelle. Instead, for some strange reason, she seemed at home in the storm. “Sam's wife is involved in this,” she told Momma Peach. “Stephanie McLeod's father was released from prison, according to Sam.” Michelle turned and faced Momma Peach. “Momma Peach, I think Stephanie McLeod is interested in scaring people off from this town because she's down under the ground digging for gold. And if Ben was involved, that means dirty money is involved.”

  “Explain what you mean.”

  “Ben was assigned to a special undercover unit that investigated drug cartels laundering money back and forth across the border,” Michelle told Momma Peach. “I've been thinking about this quite a bit and maybe Stephanie McLeod's father somehow managed to come into contact with a few drug cartels in prison and forged a criminal partnership?”

  Momma Peach absorbed this new information Michelle revealed to her with hungry eyes. “Andy Dannity was in prison too.”

  Michelle nodded. “Andy Dannity could be a middle man,” Michelle explained. “Or I could be wrong.”

  “I think you’re right on target,” Momma Peach told Michelle in a proud voice. She stopped drying her hair, neatly folded the white towel in her hand, set it down on the bed, and donned her pink cloth, tying it neatly over her hair and tucking the ends in. “Mrs. Sam's daddy spent his prison years in California. Andy Dannity says he spent his prison time in New York. What’s the connection?”

  Michelle watched Momma Peach wrap the pink cloth in her hands around her pretty hair. She liked it when Momma Peach dressed up in pretty dresses, but she loved it even more when Momma Peach looked like Momma Peach. “Mrs. Milkson was from New York. I think that woman was an undercover cop.”

  Momma Peach finished wrapping her hair abruptly, drew in a deep breath, and stood up. “I think you're firing your arrows right on target tonight.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Michelle confessed. “Momma Peach, while you were showering I went through Mrs. Milkson's personal belongings. I didn't discover anything in her room that might support my theory. Sam searched her vehicle and came up empty, too. All we found was clothes, her purse, a map, a few bottles of water, and a mystery book. But,” Michelle paused.

  “What is it?”

  Michelle reached into the right pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out Mrs. Milkson's driver's license. She walked over to Momma Peach and showed her the design of the driver license. “See how realistic her license appears?”

  Momma Peach examined the driver's license. To her eyes, the license appeared authentic. “Yes, I see.”

  “Now look at this,” Michelle said and held the driver's license up to the light. “You see the state seal?”

  “Yes, I see the state seal.”

  “Do you see how the colors in the seal seem to shimmer in the light?” Michelle asked. Momma Peach nodded her head. “Now focus on the print type. Do you see how the print type blurs just a little when I move the license back and forth in the light?”

  Momma held the license and studied the print type carefully. “I see.”

  “The license was laminated before the print type could completely dry,” Michelle explained. “However, to the untrained eye, this driver license could fool anyone, even cops. Ben taught me how to read fake driver’s licenses, what to look for and how.”

  “Are you telling me that Mrs. Milkson was driving with a fake driver's license?” Momma Peach asked.

  “Yes, Momma Peach. I believe Mrs. Milkson was an undercover agent.” Michelle replaced the driver's license back into her pocket. “Whatever the woman's real name is, I believe she came here to meet up with Ben. Maybe Ben called her. It's possible. But I don't think it's a coincidence that she showed up here at the same time we did, Momma Peach. I believed the woman was watching us, waiting to see if Ben might show up, getting the sense of things, stuff like that.”

  Momma Peach thought about Mrs. Milkson. “My goodness,” she said, “that woman had me fooled, Michelle. Yes ma’am, I figured her for someone completely different.”

  “Me, too,” Michelle confessed. “It wasn't until I discovered the fake driver's license that I began to put two and two together.”

  Momma Peach shook her head. “Folks believe we detectives have everyone figured out in life. What they don't know is that we're just human and we figure life out as we walk along. I may be gathering my years in a basket, but I still love to learn.”

  Michelle sat down on Momma Peach's bed. “I just wish we were back home in your bakery, standing in your kitchen, baking peach pies. I love your kitchen, Momma Peach. I love the smell of your bakery...the flour...the spices...the peaches...oh, it's so wonderful. I love getting my early morning cup of coffee at the diner and walking down to your bakery, listening to the birds sing, the flowers grow, the sky hum...that's home to me. Sometimes I get tired of being a cop.” Michelle looked up into Momma Peach's sweet face. “I love being a cop, Momma Peach...but I sure get tired of all the ugliness.”

  “Life is ugly, baby, but without good people like you defending the innocent, the ugliness spreads like a virus and contaminates the hearts of a lot of folk,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “Remember back in the bus station when we tangled with those bikers?”

  “Sure.”

  “I couldn't have whipped them rats alone. You tore their backsides off and gave them a new outlook on life,” Momma Peach explained with a fond chuckle. “Those rats were nothing more than cruel-hearted bullies who terrorized people by force. But you proved that when you fight them one-on-one, they're nothing but weak, yellow-belly losers. Grown men would have backed down from that fight, Michelle, but you stood strong and did some serious butt-kicking. And you may not realize it, but you saved a lot of lives that day.”

  “What do you mean, Momma Peach?” Michelle asked.

  “Two of those rats scattered but the third one, the rat you beat down, was arrested. Who knows who those rats might have hurt...or even killed...if left free to roam around and terrorize?” Momma Peach explained. “My point is, you do more good than you realize...so much good, baby, so much good.” Momma Peach ran her hand through Michelle's wet hair and looked down into her soft eyes. “You’re a blessing to me and this world. God uses all of His people for a glorious purpose. Never forget that. And for those who deny God and seek evil, well then, they have a bad ending to their story, now don't they?”

  “Yes, they do, Momma Peach,” Michelle smiled. “Thank you,” she said and hugged Momma Peach around her waist. “I needed your words.”

  “Don't thank me yet,” Momma Peach said in a worried voice, “we still have to catch some wet rats running around under our feet.” Momma Peach patted Michelle's head with a loving hand. “I need to talk to Sam and ask some questions about Mrs. Sam.”

  “Good idea,” Michelle agreed. She stood up, glanced over at the window, listened to the heavy rainfall, and nodded her head. “I love rain storms. But this storm scares me, Momma Peach. I'm worried we might get trapped in a dangerous flood.”

  “Sam says we can always get on the roof of this here hotel
and if the waters get higher than the roof, we can make a swim for it,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “I just hope I can float without sinking. Oh, give me strength, give me strength. I’m stuck out here in a flooding desert without any peach pie as my last meal. Oh, give me strength,” Momma Peach cried out and walked out of her room. Michelle grinned and followed Momma Peach back out into the lobby. Sam was standing at the front desk with Jack and Melinda. “Mr. Sam,” Momma Peach said, “can I talk to you alone? No offense, Mr. and Mrs. Jack, but I have some personal questions that Mr. Sam may not feel comfortable answering out in the open.”

  “Sure, we understand,” Jack assured Momma Peach.

  “We can talk in my apartment,” Sam told Momma Peach. He pointed at a closed wooden door on the back wall behind the front desk. “This way, Momma Peach.”

  “Keep an eye out,” Momma Peach warned Michelle.

  “I will,” Michelle promised. She walked over to the lobby door and positioned herself.

  Momma Peach nodded and followed Sam into a small but very cozy little apartment that consisted of a living room and kitchen, with a bathroom and a bedroom in the back. The apartment was dark and smelled of apple and cinnamon. The air was cool and refreshing. Sam walked over to an antique side table sitting in the far left corner of the room and turned on the lamp. Soft, gentle light yawned, opened its eyes, and looked out at a small living room filled with a dark brown leather couch and an old green recliner circled around a hand-carved coffee table, with a floor television set and a few live cactus plants. The light cast itself on dark, rugged, wooden walls and a glossy, expensive, hardwood floor. Momma Peach studied the living room and immediately fell in love. “I like this living room...the ugly green recliner not so much, but the rest of the room is something I might just take home with me.”

  Sam walked over to the worn old recliner and patted the left arm. “This old chair has been with me for a good many years,” he said in a proud voice. “So, what do you want to talk to me about, Momma Peach?”

  Momma Peach walked over to the couch, bent down, tested the brown cushions, found them soft and inviting, and sat down. “I want to talk to you about Mrs. Sam.”

  “I kinda had a feeling that's what you were fixing to talk to me about,” Sam sighed and dropped down into his recliner. “Okay, fire away, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach settled back on the couch and allowed her ears to soak in the sound of the storm. For a few seconds, the storm actually made the living room very cozy and inviting. She imagined Sam as an old friend whom she hadn't seen in many years. The two of them were settling down to a nice, long talk as a fresh peach pie baked in the oven. But then thunder growled, erupted, and shattered the peaceful moment, forcing Momma Peach back into reality. “Mrs. Sam's daddy was a banker, right?”

  “That's right, Momma Peach. And the worst kind, too. The man was a crook. He treated everyone under him like they were...below him.” Sam shook his head in disgust. “Momma Peach, the guy was clever...if not outright brilliant. But what a waste of a good mind. Guess it didn't matter in the end though because he got tossed behind bars.”

  “You said Mrs. Sam's daddy was messing with some important numbers?” Momma Peach asked.

  Sam nodded. “I don't know the entire story. Dave Wilson, a close friend of mine at the bank, gave me some foggy details when her father got sent away. All I know is that Stephanie's old man was laundering money, taking in bad money, and pushing out good money. He fixed the books for a number of years, Momma Peach. Somewhere down the line, he slipped up...either that or someone got wise to him and snitched him out to the FBI.”

  “I see,” Momma Peach replied and patiently let her mind file away the new information Sam was dishing out onto her plate. “Sam, tell me more about Mrs. Sam?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you still love her?” Momma Peach asked Sam and waited for his honest reply.

  Sam stared at Momma Peach in surprise. He lifted his right hand and rubbed his forehead. “Momma Peach, Stephanie and I...well, over the years, two people can grow apart. I don't like throwing in the towel, especially when it comes to marriage, but sometimes I can't see Stephanie and myself growing older together,” Sam admitted in a regretful voice that nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Stephanie was always a bit of a hard case. I think she came back to see me at my folks’ horse ranch all those years ago just to make her old man mad. Stephanie was always at war with her old man. She'd do anything...create any scheme that might drive him mad. Over the years, I realized that I was part of Stephanie's scheme. She married me to spite her old man.”

  “You said there was love too, though?” Momma Peach asked.

  “In front of Detective Chan I said that, yes. The truth is, I didn't want to admit that Stephanie really never loved me…not in the way I loved her. And I didn’t want to admit that in front of the detective. I guess my pride got in the way and I'm sure sorry for that.”

  “I understand,” Momma Peach promised Sam. She felt sorry for the man. Her heart broke for him. “I think you deserve more than the sloppy treatment you got from Mrs. Sam.”

  Sam tried to smile but failed. “Maybe,” he said, “but I have two feet that could have walked away from Stephanie years ago. I put the blame in my lap, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach respected Sam's honesty. “Sam, do you believe Mrs. Sam was involved with her daddy's dirty dealings at the bank?”

  Sam sat back in his recliner and looked at the television. It was old and basically used to hold a green fern plant. Sam couldn't remember the last time he had turned on the television. For all he knew, the television could have been down and out with the flu. He saw his own reflection on the television screen – an old man sitting in a living room he had built way out in the desert. “Yes, I do,” Sam finally admitted. “Momma Peach, I've known the truth for many years now. I knew when Stephanie agreed to move to Gold Dust with me...when she started wanting to leave Los Angeles...something was wrong. I haven’t thought about this in years, but once upon a time I did a little investigating and found some of her old man's financial ledgers in an upstairs office back in our old home. Stephanie used the office and always snapped at me whenever I invaded what she called her 'Private Space.'” Sam rubbed his eyes. “You know...I always regretted not being able to have children...but at times I know it was for the best.”

  Momma Peach leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, cradling her chin in her hands. “Sam, you said Mrs. Sam went to Denver with you when you traveled there to conduct some deep research on your little town. You also said she seemed bored until you started uncovering some interesting facts. Can you tell me when Mrs. Sam's attitude started to change from bored to interested?”

  Sam nodded. “Stephanie didn't like sitting in the Denver Public Library all day. She was getting a bit nasty with me and started insisting that I take her to get a fancy coffee and bagel, see the sights, go shopping.” Sam laughed to himself. “I guess she had every right to be nasty. When I start digging a hole I lose track of time. I guess being thorough-minded can be tiring on your spouse.”

  “That depends on who your spouse is,” Momma Peach told Sam. “Keep talking.”

  “Well,” Sam said and rubbed his beard, “I was sitting at a back table in the library reading about the railway survey a man named John Readers had conducted. John Readers worked for EP & FL Railroad Company, a railway company that was quickly bought out.” Sam continued to rub his beard. “John Readers was the man who discovered evidence of the caves and recommended the railway be pushed farther north of here. When I mentioned to Stephanie the information about the railroad survey, she became very interested.”

  “Why?” Momma Peach asked.

  “Who knows?” Sam answered honestly. “Stephanie sure could be a strange cookie at times.”

  “How?”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders. “One minute she could be fussing up a storm and the next crying in her tea. She was upset about us not being able t
o have children, but when we moved out here to Gold Dust, she seemed to have stored her tears away for good.” Sam looked at Momma Peach. “And as I said, when her old man was shipped off to prison, it seemed that all the wind went out of her sails. That day in Denver at the library wasn't anything special, and Stephanie was being very nasty. I was just relieved I had discovered a piece of history that interested her, to be flat-out honest.”

  “Was it your idea, Mr. Sam, or Mrs. Sam’s idea, to go spelunking that day?” Momma Peach asked.

  “Why, it was Stephanie's idea,” Sam admitted in a wondering voice. “I remember working inside the courthouse, replacing some old boards. It sure was hot that day, but I was happy, you know.” Momma Peach nodded her head. “Anyway, I moved the judge's desk off to the side to replace a bad board. When I bent down to the floor and began pulling the board up, I felt cold air coming up in between the cracks between the boards.”

  “You didn't know where the caves were at the time?” Momma Peach asked.

  “The railroad survey didn't indicate any certain spot,” Sam explained. “I knew Eric Milson had claimed Gold Dust was his land and I kinda wondered at the time if he was somehow connected to the caves. After a while, I made up my mind that he was and that's why he went after Sheriff Dunfill with his guns loaded and ready to kill.”

  Momma Peach steadied her mind. “So, you were replacing a board in that old spooky courthouse and accidentally located the entrance to the caves. Do I have the story right so far?”

  “So far,” Sam admitted. His eyes became hazy with memory. “I yanked the loose board up and there, right below me, was a dark opening...the same one you saw today. I felt it was like an ugly mouth waiting to eat me alive. I confess, Momma Peach, that pure fear came over me when I saw the opening to the cave. My gut told me to get to my feet and make tracks out of the courthouse. But then Stephanie walked into the courtroom carrying two bottles of cold water. She saw the opening to the cave before I could cover it up with a board.” Sam shook his head. “I don't think I ever saw her so excited before. Later I found out that she had been wandering around trying to locate the caves herself without me knowing it.”