Not Peachy, Mate

by Wendy Meadows

  “Which way did they run?” Grace asked. She hurried back to the front door. Michelle pointed toward Greenglow. “We now have three dead bodies...one killed by a bullet and the other two by a desert death adder...that leaves Heath—”

  “Marshall,” Momma Peach cut in. She walked over to the front door and peeked out into the night. “Whoever is doing the killing could have easily killed us by now,” she pointed out in a low, serious tone that let everyone know that the time had arrived to act. “These here unseen people don't want to hurt us. They just want us gone.”

  “So let's leave,” Evan insisted. “I have the deed to the land...I can...come back after—”

  “Heath Marshall is dead?” Momma Peach asked. Evan looked down in shame. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t hate you for it. After all, all the bad guys that've been making your life an ugly pot of stew are being killed off one by one, so why should you worry, right? I mean, you should be in the cheering section right now. Only problem is, the people doing the killing want you gone, too. And,” she added in a soft voice that caused Evan to raise his head, “no matter how much we hate our enemies it ain't right to rejoice over their deaths. Sure, the bad guys are eating a slice of poison pie...and maybe they deserve it...but that doesn't mean we look the other way. Murder is murder no matter how you boil the pot. It’s got to stop.”

  “Why should I care that Mitch Taylor and Alistair Berman are dead?” Evan asked. “Yes, I'm upset that Patty joined their ranks...but he made that choice.” Evan looked hard at Momma Peach. “Why should I care if Heath Marshall eats dust? I have my wife’s legacy and our town to think about.” Evan walked over to the front door. “My wife is here...and this is where I belong. I'm not going to give this land up. I'll go away for a while, but I'll also return...somehow...and make these people see that I belong here.” Evan turned to Grace. “If we leave, these shadow people will come and get the bodies and make them vanish under the earth. I know it. All you have to do is turn a blind eye.”

  Grace understood Evan's passion. She understood more about Evan than Momma Peach ever would. But she was a cop, and Momma Peach was right: murder was murder. But, Grace wondered, what could she do? Was she really willing to risk her life to chase after a group of shadows that killed a few bad snakes—Patty excluded? Was she willing to turn an unseen people into a permanent enemy? Momma Peach and Michelle could easily hop a plane and fly home, but she would remain behind and be forced to continue fighting a people that could very easily end her life. “Momma Peach, I'm sorry...but I agree with Evan,” she said in a miserable voice. “We're fighting shadows.” Grace looked out into the night. “The police aren't going to do anything...can't do anything. This land is raw and untamed...and folks in this area fear this part of the land…there's no use in fighting what we can't see and no use in seeking a justice that won't ever arrive.”

  Michelle turned away from the front door. “Momma Peach...I—”

  “Agree with Grace?” Momma Peach asked. Michelle reluctantly nodded. “There's no shame in that,” she told Michelle. “You go on ahead with these here good folks. I am staying behind.”

  “Why?” Evan demanded. “Why stay here and die?”

  “Oh,” Momma Peach said in a mild voice, “I am just curious, is all. I want to see the faces behind the shadows. See who’s hiding behind the scary mask.”

  Michelle stared at Momma Peach. She wasn't going to run, that was clear to see. If Momma Peach wasn't going to run...then, Michelle thought and drew in a steady breath, she wasn't going to run. Sure, staying behind meant certain death, but that was life. “Okay, Momma Peach, I'm staying, too. You know I could never leave you.”

  “I know that,” Momma Peach said and threw a deep, loving eye at Michelle. “I know my baby's heart. And trust me when I say this: so does your loving man, Able.”

  Michelle felt a tired smile touch her lips. “I guess I'll find out if you're right or wrong when we get home...if we ever get home.”

  “Oh, we'll be back in my bakery in no time,” Momma Peach promised and patiently turned her eyes to Grace and Evan. “You two get on down the road.”

  Grace stared at Momma Peach and then focused on Michelle. Standing before her were two of the bravest women she had ever met. “I can't run away like a coward,” she said and carefully took off her police badge and tossed it down on the floor. “Now I'm just Grace Clark, a woman who is standing side by side with her new friends.”

  “Not friends,” Momma Peach stated in a proud voice, “family. Tonight, we've become family, and don't you ever forget that.”

  Michelle put her arm around Grace and hugged her. “We're family,” she promised.

  Grace wasn't used to being treated with such love and care. She felt a tear fall from her eye. “Family,” she whispered and hugged Michelle back.

  Momma Peach looked at Evan. “Mr. Evan, you're a good man. There's no shame—”

  “Oh, hush,” Evan told Momma Peach and then laughed to himself. “Family doesn't run out on each other...better to die together than die alone.”

  Momma Peach smiled, walked up to Evan, and hugged him. “I knew it. I know your heart.”

  Evan hugged Momma Peach back. “I was afraid of that,” he whispered. “I'm sorry for turning sour as a croc. My mind and heart are troubled.”

  “I know.”

  Evan let go of Momma Peach. “So now what? Do we sit here and wait?”

  “Nope,” Momma Peach said and pointed at Alistair. “Now we all walk back to Greenglow and see who is going to come out of the shadows and say howdy to us.”

  Evan rubbed the back of his neck with worried hands. “Yes...I had a feeling that was the new plan.”

  Momma Peach nodded. “This here house has become a morgue and I ain't interested in staying in it another second. You girls put your guns away and come on,” she said and bravely walked outside into the night. “Okay!” she hollered. “Listen to me, people! We're all going to walk back to Greenglow! You can either kill us or send your leader out to meet us! But I swear, if you set another scorpion or snake loose, I’m going to beat you bow-legged with her pocketbook! Yes sir and yes ma’am!” Silence answered Momma Peach. “Alrighty then, we're going to get our legs to walking!”

  A beautiful woman—more lovely than any woman who graced the shores of many countries—watched Momma Peach from behind a boulder. “Go,” she told two women standing behind her in a thick French accent. The two women whispered away into the dark on silent legs.

  Momma Peach, aware that she was probably being watched but unable to spot the eyes watching her, took Michelle's hand and began walking back toward Greenglow. Grace looked at Evan. Evan shrugged his shoulders and followed, expecting a poison dart or a desert death adder to attack him at any second.

  “Baby,” Momma Peach said, reaching the little road leading back to Greenglow, “we're being watched.”

  “I can feel it too,” Michelle whispered.

  “These people don't want us dead,” Momma Peach said, walking into darkness, further and further away from the light flooding the front door of Patrick's house. The boots Michelle gave her crunched on the dry, hard ground, making it impossible to hide her steps. “I ain't sure how much longer these here people will keep their thoughts nice and sweet toward us...maybe long enough for us to talk to them?”

  Michelle glanced at Momma Peach. She was having a difficult time understanding what kind of thoughts Momma Peach had strolling around inside of her mind. “Momma Peach, what do you think this conversation will accomplish?”

  Momma Peach glanced over her shoulder and saw Evan and Grace following closely behind. Evan was searching the dark land with careful eyes. Grace was looking straight ahead, lost in some thought or another. “I ain't so sure myself,” Momma Peach admitted. “But I have this here strange feeling inside the deepness of my heart that I just can't shake.”

  “What feeling?” Michelle asked, keeping her eyes trained on the landscape. Everyone was an open targe
t and looking around surely wasn't going to accomplish anything, but Michelle couldn't prevent her eyes from searching for hidden shadows.

  “Patrick,” Momma Peach told Michelle in a strained voice. “Patrick...and I could be wrong...that sweet man, lost as he may have been, brought me to this here land to talk to...someone.” Momma Peach glanced around in the darkness. “I wasn't brought here to get a sunburn. Patrick wanted me to talk to someone...a woman. Why? Maybe to try and create some kind of peace plan...an agreement of some form.”

  “For the water?”

  Momma Peach nodded. “But...something smells rotten,” she said, “and it's not just poor Patrick. It’s the nasty business with Mitch Taylor, Alistair Berman and Heath Marshall.”

  Michelle pondered on Momma Peach's statement. Then, as tired and exhausted as her mind was, she made a connection. She glanced over her shoulder at Evan. “Evan said that Patrick told him the canyon was owned by someone about three weeks ago.”

  “Now you’re making me awful proud,” Momma Peach beamed. “Keep putting the pieces of the puzzle together. What could that mean?”

  Michelle bit down on her lower lip and began to think. “Okay...if Evan was told about the land rights to the canyon about three weeks ago...why wait this long to kill Patrick? Not to mention Mitch Taylor...Alistair Berman?”

  “Yes, why?” Momma Peach asked Michelle in a very curious voice.

  Michelle turned her head and looked into Momma Peach's shadowy eyes. “The person Patrick wanted you to meet...assuming he wanted you to meet someone, and I believe he did...was in on the deal. But...something went wrong? Or something was going wrong. Maybe Patrick found out something that wasn't meant for his ears...and he called you to talk to whoever is hiding out there in the shadows. To warn them.”

  “Maybe whoever the woman hiding out in the shadows is only ever going to speak to a woman. And maybe he knew that.” Momma Peach suggested.

  “So why wouldn’t he ask Grace?” Michelle asked.

  Momma Peach shook her head. “Grace has an honest heart. But she is connected to the law of this here land. Could be these shadows don’t like the law. But also, I’m thinking more about Heath Marshall's wife.”

  “We don't know if Heath Marshall is married or not.”

  “Oh, I have a curious feeling that Heath Marshall is married and that two very devious women are behind a very dangerous and clever plan that will make them both mighty rich if it succeeds.”

  Michelle soaked in Momma Peach's words. “Momma Peach, you're a genius.”

  “No,” Momma Peach replied, keeping her short little legs walking, “I’m just a woman who owns a bakery on the sweet soil of Georgia. I ain't no genius.” Momma Peach sighed. “If your words were true, I would be back home baking peach pies and drinking coffee with the people I love...you...Mr. Sam...Mandy and Rosa...sweet Timmy...Old Joe and Ms. Millie…Able. Instead I’m way out on some strange land walking back toward a one-horse town wondering if she's going to live to see morning or not.”

  “Momma Peach, we can't prevent ourselves from being thrown into bad situations. This isn't your fault.”

  “Baby,” Momma Peach said and wiped sweat off her forehead, “I should have given a lot of thought to my friend Patrick's request. If I had thought matters through, I might have asked a whole slew of questions before running blindly into this here desert. It was a rainy day in Georgia when he called and all I could think about was that nice Australian sun—well, that was my mistake right there. I jumped on a horse before throwing on the saddle. And for that, I’m mighty sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Michelle insisted.

  Momma Peach stopped walking and took Michelle's hands. “Baby,” she said in a voice that broke Michelle's heart in two, “I love all of my family back home, but you're my pick of the litter. You're the very heartbeat in my chest. If something ever happened to you, I would crawl in a hole and die. And it's because of me your life is in danger...that you may never see Able again...never get married...never have beautiful children. No ma’am, this here situation is all my fault and I’m going to get us out of it by using my big old brain. I’m going to see my baby get married and have sweet children...yes sir and yes ma’am, you better believe it.” Momma Peach hugged Michelle with all of her heart and love. “Yes sir and yes ma’am,” she said in a voice threatening tears, “a beautiful...family.”

  Michelle felt a tear slip from her eye. “Momma Peach...I...love you more than anything, too,” she said and wrapped her arms around Momma Peach and held on tight. “You're my heart, too...more than anything you...you will always be my heart.”

  Momma Peach let a tear fall from her eye. “Then let's end this here case and get ourselves back home where we belong.”

  Michelle leaned over, kissed Momma Peach on her forehead, and nodded. “Lead the way, Momma Peach, because you're the only one who can.”

  Momma Peach patted Michelle's hands. “Baby,” she said and quickly wiped away another tear, “let's hope my old brain is still working right.” And with those words, Momma Peach got marching toward the little town of Greenglow, her head held high.

  Momma Peach grabbed Michelle's arm and stopped walking. “Do you see them?” she asked.

  Michelle nodded. Two beautiful women were standing in front of Evan's garage, basking under a bright flood light. The women, who looked twenty-five at the most, appeared to be dark-skinned and wearing dresses made out of a dusty tan colored material and brown leather boots. Long black hair draped down their backs in a manner that spoke of style yet with a touch of wildness about it, too. “They're holding rifles, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach nodded. “A lost tribe of Amazonians wouldn't be carrying modern day rifles...not unless those folks were being influenced by someone connected to the outside world.”

  Grace eased up to Momma Peach and Michelle. “What now?” she whispered, shocked that the unseen people had revealed themselves—and even more shocked that the old legends seemed to be true.

  “Be careful,” Evan whispered, “that's what we're going to do.”

  Momma Peach nodded. “Evan, the person who left you that note knew you by name which tells me you know them somehow. So let your eyes, not your mouth, be smart.” Momma Peach drew in a deep breath and walked toward the two women. “My name is Momma Peach,” she called out. “You gals don't need them there rifles. We ain't no threat to you.” The two women pointed their rifles at Momma Peach in a way that made poor Momma Peach stop in her tracks. “I done told you, we're not a threat to you!” she barked sternly.

  “Oh, but you are,” a woman's voice floated out from the garage. “Throw your guns down on the ground or my girls are going to kill you where you stand.”

  Momma Peach peered into the garage and saw a shadow beside Evan's old Volkswagen. “That there voice is a Yankee voice if ever I did hear one,” Momma Peach whispered. “New York...Bronx or Brooklyn...”

  Michelle nodded. “Not the voice of a woman belonging to a lost tribe, that’s for sure,” she whispered back. “Heath Marshall's wife?”

  Momma Peach turned to Evan, read his eyes, and then focused back on the garage. “That there woman is Heath Marshall's wife, isn’t it,” she whispered. “Now, you girls throw down your guns before those two make sure we don't see daylight.”

  “Do it,” Michelle told Grace. Grace hesitated and then threw down her gun. Michelle followed suit. “Okay, our guns are on the ground,” she called out.

  “Good,” came the smooth New York accent, and then a strikingly beautiful woman stepped out of the gloom and into the light. Jasmine Marshall perched herself between the two women standing guard.

  Momma Peach stared with curious eyes. The woman was whiter than snow and, even though amazingly beautiful on the outside, her dark eyes betrayed the rotten soul she carried on the inside. She was truly a black widow. “Mrs. Marshall?” she asked.

  Jasmine shook her head. “Not anymore,” she smiled, brushed at the black dress cove
ring a body that had been training in the field of martial arts for fifteen years, and then pushed blond bangs away from her eyes. “My darling husband is now...deceased. I'm afraid a venomous snake ended his life.”

  Jasmine reminded Momma Peach of a blond-headed Judy Garland. “That's too bad,” she said carefully, watching the two women holding the rifles. “Seems that poor Patrick was not the only one whose life ended tragically today.”

  “Patty tried to be brave and one of my girls had to stop him,” Jasmine explained and then waved her hand. Four more women stepped out of the shadows holding rifles. “You were given a chance to leave, Evan. It's a shame you decided to stay. You were the only person I liked.”

  “I didn't come here to die, Mrs. Marshall,” Evan told Jasmine. “It's dark. I'm not about to leave here in the dark. You gave me until morning, and I intend to take you up on your offer.”

  Momma Peach looked at Michelle. It seemed like Evan was deciding to jump into the game and use his brain. “Mr. Alistair Berman paid us a visit earlier and—”

  “Yes, we know all about Alistair,” Jasmine rudely interrupted Momma Peach. She nodded at the four women. The women ran up to Momma Peach, Michelle, Grace and Evan and began tying their hands behind their backs. “Evan, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to cancel my offer.”

  Evan stood aghast while his hands were tied behind his back. What other choice did he have? The odds were against him. Michelle, on the other hand, hesitated but was greeted by a hard punch to the stomach by one of the women. When she looked up, she saw a rifle being pointed at her face.

  “Don't resist,” Momma Peach begged.

  Michelle's face grew red with fury. She grabbed her stomach in pain, eased up to her feet, and slowly placed her hands behind her back. Momma Peach let out a sigh of relief.

  Jasmine watched the four women secure her prisoners, then she spoke in a strange language and the four women faded back into the shadows. “Much better,” Jasmine said. She walked out from between the two guards, scooped up Michelle and Grace's guns, and shook her head. “I had no intention of killing any of you,” she said. “I gave you ample warnings.”