“Okay, she’s lured the guilty out of sight. It's our turn now,” Momma Peach told Old Joe. She turned around in the front passenger seat and looked Old Joe in the face. Old Joe appeared sleepy and tired in his brown rain jacket, but Momma Peach still saw a hint of clear brilliance in the man's eyes. “I need you at your best, you old fox. Can I count on you?”
“I'm here, ain't I?” Old Joe asked and quickly polished off his cinnamon roll and drained the remainder of his coffee. “I ain't gonna betray you no more, Momma Peach. You can count on me, yes sir and yes ma’am.”
Momma Peach felt a smile touch her lips. “I reckon I can,” she said and quickly eased out of the front seat and stepped into the heavy mist. Old Joe followed. “Follow me,” Momma Peach whispered and on her short but stealthy legs, she eased around the main tent and aimed her body toward Lionel Hayman's trailer. Old Joe followed, casting his hawk eyes around, absorbing every little detail of the circus grounds, every tent, trailer, cage, bale of hay, sound, and smell. The circus was silent, sleepy and still, but Old Joe was pretty certain that all the circus folk wasn't snoring away in their lumpy beds; no sir. He was grateful for the white mist, which allowed some cover. But Old Joe also knew that as soon as the sun warmed up the mist would be burned away. “Momma Peach, we have no more than thirty minutes,” he whispered.
Momma Peach passed Melanie's cage. Melanie was laying down with her eyes closed. Momma Peach paused, stared at the beautiful elephant, sighed, and then moved on. “I will be back for you, baby.”
“Where are the cops?” Old Joe asked.
“Michelle pulled our folks back early this morning. She wants to give our snakes a false sense of victory,” Momma Peach explained. She pointed to Lionel's trailer. “There it is. Let's get our old legs moving.”
“I am moving,” Old Joe promised. He felt a surge of excitement jolt through his body. Suddenly he felt young, alive and full of energy—he felt like his old self, preparing to pull off the biggest scam in the history of the State of Georgia. Of course, he knew he was nothing more than an old, washed-up con man breaking into a circus trailer, but so what? Adrenaline kicked in no matter how silly the job.
Momma Peach eased up to Lionel's trailer and stopped. Water was dripping off her gray rain jacket. Momma Peach has chosen the color gray in order to appear less conspicuous against the tents and the muddy, misty field. She felt like a brave spy engaged in a dangerous mission behind enemy lines. “Wait,” she whispered and pulled out two pairs of garden gloves from the right pocket of her rain jacket. “I don't want to be leaving fingerprints.”
Old Joe looked at the garden gloves, rolled his eyes, and pulled out a pair of stealthier looking black gloves from the front pocket of his gray trousers. “I work in style.”
“You better get this door unlocked before I beat that style out of your head to make room for some sense,” Momma Peach warned old Joe and slapped on a pair of garden gloves and shoved the extra pair back into the pocket of her rain jacket. Old Joe flinched, threw on his gloves, and went to work.
The door to Lionel's trailer was obviously locked, but the lock was mere candy to Old Joe. The aged con man pulled a thief's lockpick tool from his front pocket and went to work. Less than sixty seconds later he replaced the tool in his pocket and eased open the front door. “Ladies first,” he smiled.
“You’re gonna tell me where you got that little doodad of a gadget later,” Momma Peach warned Old Joe and hurried into the trailer. She stepped into an extremely neat trailer decorated as fancy as a business office. A glossy wooden desk was shoved up against the far corner. Two wooden filing cabinets sat on the right side of the desk, resting on a lush Persian carpet. A fax machine and a copy machine stood a few feet away from the desk, ready for use. A simple kitchen and sleeping area stared at the desk from the opposite side of the trailer, neat and tidy. Momma Peach would have been impressed at the sight of such neatness, but she knew the man occupying the trailer was either a killer or harboring a killer, and not a man to be applauded for keeping a nice home.
Old Joe stepped into the trailer and closed the front door. “Hey, classy,” he said and whistled.
“Classy my foot,” Momma Peach fussed. She pointed at the two filing cabinets. “There has to be a safe in here somewhere. Go find it.”
Old Joe nodded his head and began walking toward the bed. Momma Peach watched with urgent eyes. “Ain’t no man gonna keep a safe in his business area...at least not in a set-up like this,” Old Joe told Momma Peach and rubbed his chin. He slowly began tapping the carpet with his right foot. “Let's see here...this trailer is modern...well-built...can hold a good amount of floor weight...” Old Joe kept tapping the floor with his foot. “We walked up four steps to get inside this here trailer, which means there's space underneath our feet and—” Old Joe felt his right foot strike an odd piece of flooring under the carpet, very close to the bed. “Ah,” he said and eased down on his knees and began feeling the carpet with his hands. A minute later he pulled back a flap of carpet and pointed to the door of a small, gray metal safe that had been embedded into the floor.
Momma Peach hurried over to the safe and looked down. “I will cook you one of my famous peach pies,” she said in a pleased voice.
“Letting me stay in your home is reward enough,” Old Joe promised Momma Peach. “Now give me some air, Momma Peach. I have a safe to crack.”
Momma Peach stepped back and watched Old Joe lower his ear to the safe and begin turning the safe dial. She expected the task of cracking the safe to take some time, but no more than five minutes passed before she heard a slight metallic click and she watched Old Joe pull the safe door open. “Well, I'll be,” Momma Peach said in an amazed voice. “Why, you old fox.”
Old Joe began to grin and then stopped. He grimaced in pain as he got to his knees and tried to get up. “Yeah, old fox is right,” he sighed. Momma Peach offered him a hand to help him to a standing position. “I sure didn't put my talents to good use, I know that. I lost my best years chasing the worst the world had to offer, and my body tells me about it every day now.”
Momma Peach patted Old Joe on his shoulder. “You’re learning,” she said and eased down onto her knees. “What's in the safe, baby?”
“We don't have time to find out right now,” Old Joe said, glancing out the window. “That mist will disappear any moment now and we’ll lose our cover.” She reached into the safe, yanked out a stack of brown folders and handed them to Old Joe, who shoved them into his jacket. He glanced down at a stack of money in the bottom of the safe, shook his head, and turned away, slamming the safe door shut with the toe of his shoe. “Let's go, Momma Peach.”
Momma Peach nodded her head and stood back up. She watched Old Joe roll the carpet back down over the safe and then hurried outside. Old Joe followed on quick legs, but before exiting the trailer he told her to go on ahead while he checked the desk drawers. He fiddled with the machines by the desk too while Momma Peach scanned around to make sure no one was approaching the trailer. Once outside, Old Joe followed Momma Peach through the mist, past Melanie's cage, and back to Michelle's car without being seen.
Old Joe crawled into the back seat and laughed to himself. “Job accomplished, Momma Peach.”
Momma Peach closed the front passenger door and wiped sweat from her brow. “I thought for sure that Lindsey Sung was gonna pop up at any minute,” she admitted. She turned and looked at Old Joe. “Baby, I sure am grateful you helped me.”
“Ah, it was nothing. Piece of cake,” Old Joe promised Momma Peach. He reached into his jacket, removed the files, and handed them to Momma Peach. “Still want to know where I got my little doodad gadget?” he grinned.
Momma Peach rolled her eyes. “Just as long as you only use that gadget as a toothpick I guess it ain't none of my business anymore,” Momma Peach said, taking the files from Old Joe. She began examining the contents. “These ain't circus papers,” she grinned to herself. “No sir and no ma’am, these here papers are no
t circus papers at all.”
Old Joe spotted Michelle walking out of the main tent. She jogged over to her car and jumped into the driver's seat. “Well?” she asked, wiping rainwater from her hair.
Momma Peach patted the folders in her lap. “Let's go back to your office, baby.”
Michelle looked down at the folders on Momma Peach's lap. “Hayman's attorney really tore into me. Vicious teeth on that one. I couldn't find any room to fight with him. As of now, I have no legal grounds to hold Hayman or his circus in town. Hayman has made it clear that he will be leaving the fairgrounds within the next eight hours.”
“That should be plenty of time, baby,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “These here papers aren't circus papers.” Momma Peach tossed a thumb at Old Joe. “That old fox did real good, baby. He cracked open a hidden floor safe like nothing I have ever seen before.”
“Wasn't nothing,” Old Joe assured Michelle. “A man can train his ear to hear how a safe thinks, that's all.”
Michelle looked at Old Joe through the rearview mirror. “Old Joe, if there's anything in those files that will help me hold Hayman in town I'm gonna buy you the biggest steak in...well, in Georgia.” Michelle drew in a deep breath and got her car moving through the mist, pulling away from the deadly circus. “Of course, officially, I haven’t the faintest idea where you picked up those file,” she said with a wink at Momma Peach.
As she pulled away, Lionel walked Lindsey and his attorney back to his trailer. As soon he unlocked the trailer door and stepped inside he knew something was wrong. He ran over to the fax machine in a panic. “The fax, where is it?” he shouted.
Lindsey walked over to the fax machine and began checking the area. The fax was nowhere to be found. “The carpet is damp,” she said running her hands over the carpet. “Someone has been in here.”
Lionel brushed past Lindsey and made his way over to the floor safe. He dropped down onto his knees, yanked back the carpet and frantically opened the safe. “The files are gone!” he hollered and hit the floor with his fist. Lindsey stood very still. Lionel's attorney face went pale. “The files are gone!”
“I'll go outside and begin questioning the employees. Perhaps someone witnessed the thieves?” Lindsey told Lionel.
Lionel raised his right hand at Lindsey. “If we don't find that fax and the files you might as well start running, Ms. Sung. You know as well as I do that if the fax and files are not located, everyone standing in this room will be killed.” Lionel closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, calming his panicked mind before he stood up. “Ms. Sung, go the police station.”
“Why?” Lindsey sputtered. “That cop couldn't be the thief.”
“Detective Chan arrived with two people sitting in her car,” Lionel hissed through gritted teeth.
“The fat old lady and that old man?” Lindsey asked. “Mr. Hayman, your panic is outweighing your common sense. This was clearly an inside job. One of the employees—”
“Those worthless idiots would not dare stand against me,” Lionel spat out.
Lionel's attorney looked down at his shiny black shoes. Lionel was in serious trouble, which meant he was in serious trouble, too. But what could he do except run? So that's exactly what he did. He tore out of Lionel's trailer on shaky legs and didn't look back. Sure, he was dangerous in the courtroom, but there wasn't a courtroom in the world that could protect him from the organization that hired him to defend Lionel Hayman.
“Look at that coward run,” Lionel said in a disgusted tone.
Lindsey stared at the fleeing man and watched him vanish into the mist. “He won't get far,” she promised and focused her attention back on Lionel. “Mr. Hayman, surely this was an inside job. I'll go question our employees...with certain force...and extract the truth.”
Lionel stared at Lindsey. The woman seemed calm in the face of certain annihilation. Why? “Are you disobeying a direct order, Ms. Sung?”
“No, Mr. Hayman,” Lindsey said. “I'm simply stating that I do not believe two senile retirees could have broken into this trailer and removed files from a safe that is strong enough to withstand a nuclear war. It’s impossible, Mr. Hayman, unless the thief has the combination to the safe,” Lindsey shook her head. “Don’t you get it? It’s someone who knows the combination.”
Lionel considered Lindsey's statement. “I suppose you're right,” he caved and slowly walked back to the fax machine, retrieved his cane, and turned to face Lindsey. “Yes, of course,” he finally said, “the thief must be one of our employees. Please, go conduct your questioning.”
Lindsey nodded her head and walked outside into the mist. Surely, she thought, the thief had to be working for her. Surely Momma Peach and Old Joe couldn't have broken into the trailer and cracked a sophisticated safe, right? “We'll soon find out,” Lindsey growled and made her way toward Lidia's trailer.
Momma Peach slapped Old Joe in the back of the head with her pocketbook. Poor Old Joe went flying out of Michelle's office and crashed into the hallway wall. “What did I say?” he asked and began rubbing the back of his head. “What did I do to deserve that, Momma Peach?”
“What did you do?” Momma Peach asked with anger flaming as hot as lava in her eyes. She eased out into the hallway. Old Joe swallowed and began backing away. “What did you do, you old skunk?”
Old Joe knew he was in trouble. “All I did was ask this here police department to show me some gratitude by greasing my palms with some dough.”
Michelle sighed, shook her head, and watched Momma Peach take a swing at Old Joe with her pocketbook. Old Joe ducked just in the nick of time. “You didn't ask nothing, you smelly alley cat! You demanded money!”
“Well...money is kinda tight, Momma Peach,” Old Joe replied in a nervous voice. “I did them a favor and I just figured this here police department could spare a few bucks, is all.”
“Michelle already offered to buy you a nice steak dinner, but was that enough? Noooo,” Momma Peach said and took a third swing at Old Joe. Old Joe ducked and ran. “I'll deal with you at home!” Momma Peach yelled.
Old Joe scooted away, forgetting all about the fax in his pocket. When he managed to reach fresh air he glanced over his shoulder from the wet parking lot, searching for Momma Peach, and then sighed. “That woman’s temper will be the death of me for sure,” he said. “But why should I be surprised? I ain’t no saint.” Old Joe let his shoulders sag and walked away.
Back in Michelle's office, Momma Peach tossed her pocketbook down onto the desk and plopped down in a chair. “Just when I think Old Joe is learning to be decent,” she huffed, her heart heavy.
Michelle sat down behind her desk and picked up one of the folders Old Joe had managed to take from Lionel's floor safe. “Give him more time, Momma Peach. Old dogs can't learn new tricks overnight. Besides, Old Joe did save the day,” she pointed out and nodded at the folder in her hand.
“I just wish that old skunk would learn that a decent, honest living is worth a shot,” Momma Peach sighed. “Old Joe needs family love, baby. But he ain't willing to let folk in enough to trust them. It's a shame, too, because I know that Old Joe has goodness in him. That man isn't getting a day younger and unless he settles his mind and heart he's just gonna fall into a deeper pit.”
Michelle saw a strained worry in Momma Peach's eyes. Momma Peach was sincerely worried about the old con man. Not romantically, of course—but the way a sister worries about her lost brother. Old Joe wasn't the type of man anyone else would concern themselves with, Michelle knew, and maybe that's why Momma Peach was stepping into the ring. “Give him time, Momma Peach.”
Momma Peach looked at Michelle. She saw care and warmth on Michelle's face, which comforted her tired heart. “Mandy and Rosa might lock him in the cellar again if I give that old skunk too much time.”
Michelle smiled. “Speaking of Mandy and Rosa, those two girls are really doing a wonderful job managing your bakery.”
“My sweet babies sure are pulling long hours for my sake
,” Momma Peach beamed. “I slipped them both a very nice bonus in their recent paychecks, too. And of course,” Momma Peach sighed, “they both tried to give back their bonuses, but I wouldn't let them. Mandy is dating that college fella now and Rosa is dating her childhood friend. My girls need money for nice clothes for dates, and perfume...girly stuff.”
“Mandy and Rosa are going out on a double date tomorrow night, if I remember correctly,” Michelle told Momma Peach. “They're dating two nice enough guys.”
“Oh, sure they are,” Momma Peach agreed. “But the boys are not the fellas they're going to marry. I can tell. I see the look in the girls’ eyes when they’re around their little boyfriends. Not true, deep love, baby. Just puppy love.”
“Yeah, I caught that, too,” Michelle nodded her head. “But Mandy and Rosa are still young. They both have time. Look how long it took for me to find love!” Michelle thought about Able, wondering if her boyfriend was thinking about her at the same exact moment. “Well, we better focus on the case, huh?”
Momma Peach reached across the desk and picked up a second folder. “Baby, Able will be home soon enough,” she promised and opened the folder. “What we have here in these folders are evidence about illegal prescription drugs being smuggled through the circus.”
“A regular black market,” Michelle agreed. “The medicine being smuggled through the circus appears to cancer medicines.” Michelle studied the papers in the folder and a list on a notepad she had made, jotting down the usage of each unfamiliar drug. “The cancer drugs are smuggled into every major city in the United States and sold to the highest bidder.”
Momma Peach raised a piece of brown paper in the air and pointed at it. “One million dollars for a single delivery of this medicine, maybe that’s a couple dozen doses at most...and that's the lowest cost Momma Peach's eyes have seen so far.”
Peachy Villains Page 6