Peachy Villains

by Wendy Meadows

  Lindsey closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and, on stealthy legs, ran away from the police station, jogged down a wet street, and began making her way toward town. When she reached the main street where Momma Peach's bakery was located, Lindsey simply walked up to the front display window of the bakery, removed a dagger strapped around her left arm, and jammed the hilt of the knife into the window. The window exploded and crashed down onto the sidewalk. A loud alarm erupted and began wailing up and down the street like a confused Paul Revere. “That should bring them to me. I will kill them both here, and draw all the police to this location, and then go back for Mr. Hayman,” she said and walked away from the broken window and maneuvered around the back of the bakery into the alley.

  As Lindsey hid in the back alley, Michelle took a sip of coffee. “Not bad,” she told Momma Peach in a sleepy voice. But her brief peace was interrupted when a female officer in her late fifties stuck her head into the office with a look of concern on her face. “Detective, Momma Peach. Dispatch just received a call.” The woman looked at Momma Peach with apologetic eyes. “Someone broke the front window out of your bakery, Momma Peach.”

  “Lindsey Sung,” Michelle said and sprung to her feet.

  Momma Peach, surprisingly, remained seated. Her feet were tired. Her head was wet. Her tummy was upset. She didn't feel like racing off into the rainy night again. “Baby, sit back down.”

  “Why?” Michelle asked.

  Momma Peach took a sip of hot coffee from a brown mug. “Baby, why would Lindsey Sung break my window?”

  “Detective, I sent Fred Chert down to Momma Peach's bakery,” the woman told Michelle. “Should I dispatch anyone else? Maybe Milton?”

  “Not yet, Joan,” Michelle said staring into Momma Peach's eyes. “Let's see what Fred comes up with, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” the woman said and closed the office door and went back to her station, leaving Michelle and Momma Peach alone.

  “A trap?” Michelle asked.

  Momma Peach nodded her head. “Yes, baby, a trap. My mind might feel like mush right now and my stomach may have stunk up your car pretty bad, but I still has my smarts intact.” Momma Peach took another sip of coffee. “That Lindsey thinks Lionel Hayman is locked in this here police station, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you wanted to break someone out...or even kill someone...what would you do, baby?” Momma Peach asked. “What would you do if you had too many flies spoiling your nice, murder-filled picnic?”

  Michelle considered Momma Peach's question. “I would use a jar of honey to draw the flies away, Momma Peach.”

  “Exactly, baby,” Momma Peach replied and grew silent. “That awful woman breaks my window, we come running, she kills us...every cop in town runs to the scene, leaving this here police station practically empty, and then she attacks again.”

  Michelle rubbed her face. “You're right on track tonight, Momma Peach. But that doesn't mean I can just sit here and do nothing. If Lindsey Sung is lingering around your bakery I need to go and find her. I can't hide and wait for her to spring another trap. I'm a cop, Momma Peach.”

  “And a smart cop to boot,” Momma Peach added, “which means, baby, right now you need to be using those smarts to out-think a very deadly enemy.”

  Michelle snatched up her coffee and took a drink. “We need to draw Lindsey Sung to the station, is that what you're trying to say to me?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” Momma Peach asked, “or maybe we need to draw Lindsey Sung someplace else altogether.” Momma Peach leaned back in her chair and began to think and let the sound of falling rain calm her mind. After a few minutes, she spoke: “Baby, send a message to Officer Chert.”

  “A message?” Michelle asked.

  “Tell him you’re transferring Mr. Lionel Hayman to a different location and to keep Momma Peach's bakery under lockdown. If Lindsey Sung is hiding in the rain, maybe she might hear the message—”

  “So she’ll come running back to the station. Brilliant, Momma Peach,” Michelle said in a calm voice.

  “We can only hope, baby,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “Otherwise all we can do is sit here with our thinking caps on while that black widow sits out in the rain hatching more plans.”

  Michelle stood up. “I'll talk with Joan and have her send the message over to Fred Chert.” Michelle hurried over to her office door, opened it, and then stepped back. “Sam...Millie, what are you doing here?”

  Sam walked into Michelle's office and pointed at Momma Peach. “You were supposed to be at home. Old Joe called me. He was worried.”

  Momma Peach watched Sam shake rainwater off his brown leather coat. He had on his cowboy hat and looked handsome and rugged. Millie stood by his side like a loving wife, wearing a simple gray rain jacket that reminded Momma Peach just how humble the woman really was. “Mr. Sam, I had business—”

  “Not if that business risks your life,” Sam told Momma Peach in an upset voice. “We're a family, Momma Peach. If Old Joe was worried, well, that tells me a lot.” Sam took off his hat. “Momma Peach, you told me you were going home after supper. Why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you at least call and let someone know?”

  “It’s Lindsey Sung,” Michelle told Sam and closed her office door and looked at Sam with worried eyes. “Sam, Momma Peach was only trying to protect you. She lied to me, too.”

  “I didn't lie,” Momma Peach objected. “I simply told everyone that spending a restful night at home seemed mighty nice.”

  “You lead us to believe—” Sam began.

  “I simply changed my mind,” Momma Peach enforced her statement. “Baby, this Lindsey Sung gal is deadlier than a diseased tick on a sick dog. I don't want Mr. Sam tangling with her. I love you and know you’re awful brave, but Lindsey Sung will kill you if you tangles with her.”

  Millie nodded her head. “That's what I've been telling Sam all night,” she explained. Millie gave Sam a concerned look. “Sam, Lindsey Sung is a vicious woman.”

  “I'm not even sure I can defeat her,” Michelle told Sam and plopped down on the corner of her desk and folded her arms. “Sam, I'm being honest. If...and when...I go toe to toe with Lindsey Sung, the woman might kill me.”

  Sam stared at Michelle. He couldn't believe his eyes or ears. Was Michelle actually showing fear? As far as he knew, the young woman he considered as close as a daughter could kick anyone's backside, including his. “Hey,” he said and put his hand on Michelle's shoulder, “surely this woman can't—”

  “She is a killer,” Michelle said and raised her eyes up to Sam's face. “Sam, I'm not backing down from the fight, but I'm also not sure I will walk away alive.” Michelle drew in a deep breath. “Lindsey Sung just broke out the front window to Momma Peach's bakery...or so we believe.”

  “What?” Sam exclaimed. He spun around and focused on Momma Peach. “Momma Peach, what is going on? Never mind that…where have you been all night?”

  “At the circus messing with a very sick clown,” Momma Peach told Sam. “And now there's another sick clown hanging round my bakery.” Momma Peach bit down on her lower lip and explained why she thought Lindsey Sung broke the front display window. “Michelle was just going to send a message to Officer Chert when you two appeared and—” Momma Peach let out a horrible fart. “Oh dear, excuse me...”

  Millie blushed and stepped back. Sam shook his head. “My chili?”

  “You better believe your chili is turning my tummy into a rumbling volcano,” Momma Peach fussed. “Mr. Sam, I like cayenne pepper just as much as the next person, but you...oh you...you drink it like it's winter eggnog!”

  “I'll go send have Joan send the message,” Michelle said in a quick voice and hurried out of her office, leaving Sam and Millie to face Momma Peach.

  Millie reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a bottle of Pepto Bismol. “Here, Momma Peach, have some. My stomach has been upset tonight, too.” Millie frowned at Sam. “It was a little too heavy on the cayenne.
..I didn't want to hurt your feelings after all you've done for Lidia and me, today.”

  “No offense taken,” Sam told Millie and patted his own stomach. “I didn't tell anyone, but I accidentally spilled the bottle of cayenne pepper into my chili tonight. Sorry guys.”

  “You spilled a whole bottle of cayenne pepper into your famous chili and still served a bowl to me?” Momma Peach asked Sam. “Oh, give me strength, give me strength, you are trying to finish me off before it's my time.”

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand and watched Millie hand the Pepto Bismol to Momma Peach. “Look on the bright side, Momma Peach...cayenne pepper is really good for your heart.”

  Momma Peach chugged the bottle of Pepto Bismol and gave Sam a hard eye. “Remind me to cook supper for you next week Mr. Sam,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know how to use cayenne pepper, too.”

  Sam winced and stepped back. “Well...uh, the elephant is settled in at least. And Lidia, she ended up coming back to the farm and insisted she be allowed to sleep close to Melanie.”

  “Lidia loves her elephant,” Millie sighed. “I offered to let her sleep in my RV but she insisted on being near Melanie.”

  Momma Peach finished off the bottle of Pepto Bismol. “Melanie is a sweet elephant that needs her momma,” Momma Peach said and let out a little burp. “Mr. Sam, Ms. Millie, I sure am tired and want to go home, but I have a feeling this night is far from over. So since you two are here and—”

  Old Joe popped his head into the office. “Hey, Momma Peach,” he said in a careful voice, “you okay?” Old Joe looked at Sam. “Sorry, Mr. Sam. I couldn't wait in your truck another second.”

  “You brought that old alley cat with you, Mr. Sam?” Momma Peach asked.

  “He was worried, Momma Peach.” Sam motioned for Old Joe to enter the office.

  Old Joe walked into the office and looked at Momma Peach. “I know you don't think too much of me, Momma Peach, but when you didn't come home I got mighty worried. So please don't be mad at me for calling Mr. Sam and his new friend.”

  Momma Peach saw a tender care running back and forth in Old Joe's eyes. The man had been sincerely worried about her. “Oh, I ain't mad at you, Old Joe. I am plum worn down to the bone, but I ain't mad. As a matter of fact, I’m grateful you cared enough to even be worried.”

  Old Joe shrugged his shoulders. “Ain't nobody in the world caring for me like you're doing...and well, I am grateful...and mighty sorry I tried to make Ms. Kung Fu give me money earlier for picking the safe.”

  “Picking a safe?” Sam asked. He looked at Momma Peach with confused eyes. “Momma Peach, what in the world is going on here? What have you and Old Joe been up to? What is going on out there at that circus?”

  Momma Peach pointed at the office window. “Mr. Sam, out there in that rain are two spooky clowns that mean business,” she said. “Lindsey Sung and Max Moroz. Yes sir and yes ma’am, out there in that rain are two deadly clowns...one who wants to get back into the spotlight and the other trying to stay out of the spotlight. What a mess, what a peachy mess.”

  Outside in the rain, Lindsey Sung listened to the wail of the alarm and watched from around the corner as police lights flashed in the darkness, certain that Michelle and Momma Peach were about to arrive.

  Chapter Seven

  Lindsey Sung slipped around the side of Momma Peach's bakery and saw a cop standing half in and half out of his patrol car speaking to his radio. “Yeah, Joan, I got it. I'll wrap up business here and get back to the station and help transfer that fella Hayman to his new location...yeah, no sight of the vandal. Probably the Winston boys again. They're always causing trouble….yeah, I'll go out and talk to their folks tomorrow….okay, see you in a bit.”

  “So that's your game,” Lindsey hissed watching Officer Chert walk over to the broken display window and kick at some broken glass. She felt rage erupt in her heart. Instead of luring her prey to the bakery, they used her scheme against her in order to relocate Lionel Hayman to a new location, thinking they could do it without her knowledge. “You're a clever one, Chan.” Lindsey stood silent and let the rain fall on her and then she acted. She left her hidden position and walked straight up to Fred Chert with her hands out in front of her. “I broke the window,” she said with mock remorse.

  Officer Chert jerked his head to the side and spotted Lindsey. He scrambled backward, went for his gun, and nearly tripped over his own feet. “Stay right there!” he shouted.

  “I'm surrendering peacefully,” Lindsey promised in a sickeningly sweet tone. “I know it was wrong of me to break the window. I was upset.”

  Officer Chert stared through the falling rain at Lindsey. The woman sure was beautiful, he thought. But he had been warned to be cautious of Lindsey Sung and to use extra security measures at all times. “Just keep your hands where I can see them.”

  “I will,” Lindsey promised pretending to act innocent and contrite. “I'm sorry I broke the window, officer. I know it was wrong of me. But I just got so mad at my boyfriend that I...well, I took my anger out on a window.”

  “Aren't you Lindsey Sung, the woman who works with the circus?” Officer Chert asked.

  “I used to work with the circus. Mr. Hayman was arrested, which means I don't have a job anymore. I called my boyfriend and asked for help but he told me to take a hike,” Lindsey lied. “Oh, he made me so mad.” Lindsey allowed her rage bubble quietly to the surface, just enough to make tears fall from her eyes. “I don't know what I'm going to do,” she choked back a fake sob. “The circus was my life and now I'm stranded with only a few dollars to my name.”

  Officer Chert stared at Lindsey. His gut told him to be careful but his mind urged him to play hero for the damsel in distress. “Now, now,” he said and lowered his gun, “we all make mistakes. It was wrong of you to break this window, but we all lose our temper at times. At least you had enough integrity to admit your mistake.”

  Lindsey wiped at her eyes. “Are you taking me to jail?”

  “I'm afraid I might have to,” Officer Chert told Lindsey.

  “Oh dear,” Lindsey burst out into tears, “what am I going to do?”

  Officer Chert placed his gun back in the holster hooked to the utility belt around his waist and walked up to Lindsey, gently reaching out his hand to touch her shoulder. As soon as he did, Lindsey narrowed her eyes and laid the man out cold with one single punch.

  Officer Chert crashed down onto the wet sidewalk and collapsed without knowing what hit him. “Never fails. Better to let the mongrels come to you,” she grinned and quickly worked to stuff Officer Chert's body into the truck of his patrol car. When the task was complete, she jumped into the front seat and drove back to the police station.

  Inside the police station, Michelle was talking with Lionel Hayman in the interrogation room. Momma Peach was sitting behind the one-way mirror listening. “You know Lindsey Sung is going to kill you,” Michelle said, leaning her foot on a metal chair and taking a sip of hot coffee.

  Lionel Hayman stared up at Michelle with his hands cuffed in front of him. He was terrified. If Lindsey Sung didn't kill him, the men who were working for would send someone else that would finish off the job. Lindsey Sung was small potatoes compared to trained killers backed by a very powerful payroll. Could speaking to a cop save his life? Could he try and make a deal that would somehow give him enough leverage to escape his enemies? He needed someone more powerful than this small-town nobody sitting across the table from him. “I want to speak with the FBI.”

  “You talk with me first, pal,” Michelle warned Lionel. “Lindsey Sung is loose. I'm the only cop around that can save your hide. Start talking and no lies. I've went through the files. I know about the black market drug operation you've been running under the big tent.”

  Lionel shifted in his seat. The metal chair was uncomfortable. “Detective,” he spoke in his cultured English accent, “the men I work for can kill us both in a matter of hours. The business you refer to is
merely a small operation compared to the major markets operating right here in your country. My area of expertise—”

  “The cancer medicine.”

  “Yes,” Lionel acknowledged. “It isn't dangerous. I am not a monster. I sell life-saving medicine to the highest bidder. And before you lecture me, Detective, please save your breath. The pharmaceutical companies have the cure to cancer, they simply refuse to let the common people in on their little secret. The real monsters sit on gold thrones making billions off of the suffering of innocent people.” Lionel shook his head. “Chemotherapy is a very profitable business compared to a single cure for cancer.”

  “You can’t be serious. What proof do you have?”

  “Are you really that blind, Detective?” Lionel huffed. “You have eyes to see. You see the GMO crops that are grown, the poison chemicals made into processed foods, the numbing of the American mindset.” Lionel tapped the table with his cuffed hand. “Your precious free market economy is simply the tool of corporate America, which controls all your grocery stores and fills them with cancerous foods.” Lionel stared at Michelle as if the woman was stupid. “Hospitals and pharmacies are nothing more than dope centers, designed to numb the same cancers and diseases caused by corporate America. They sell you the disease, and then they sell you the cure. Every corner store sells booze and cancerous cigarettes, sure, but mainly they sell you those lovely wonderful fattening processed snacks, those sugar-filled sodas and energy drinks. There are fast food restaurants as far as the eye can see, filled with cancerous foods, deliberately designed that way, I might add. Your precious corporate America works hand in hand with the pharmaceutical companies to poison brain-dead people who do not have enough sense to see that they are being programmed and murdered by the very drinks they reach for every day. The medications I sell may be for cancer, but for those in the know, these medicines also optimize life, they strengthen the body and empower the mind.” His eyes glowed a little with grim satisfaction. “So is it wrong to sell this life-saving medicine to those who are awake? To people who care about life rather than finding the next processed cheeseburger to shove down their throats?”