A Peachy Plan

by Wendy Meadows

  Michelle rubbed her arm. “Thanks...I guess.”

  Thelma tossed a smile at Michelle. “There's not a single Chinese family living in Ridge Falls, which leads this old lady, who is past her nap time,” Thelma winked at Momma Peach, “to believe you people are here to see Mrs. Charlene Readings.”

  Michelle looked at Momma Peach and then back at Thelma. “How did you know that?” she demanded.

  Thelma raised her eyes up at the snow, reached into her pocket and pulled out a half-smoked cigarillo, and then focused back on Michelle. “Everybody in Ridge Falls knows about the little girl left at Mom's Diner. It’s about the only interesting thing that has happened here in ages. And Charlene is the only social worker in Ridge Falls. A person can add two plus two.” Thelma stuck the plastic tip of the little cigar in her mouth. “Especially because, by the way, the little girl is Chinese...but by the expression on your face I see you didn't know that.”

  “No,” Michelle confessed. “You’re correct that Charlene is my friend...but she told me she would reveal the reason for her call once I arrived. She didn't seem overly upset about anything, either.”

  “Do you speak Chinese? Could be that the little girl doesn't speak a word of English and Charlene needs someone who can communicate with her, preferably a woman?” Thelma suggested.

  “Maybe?” Michelle asked, feeling a bad knot form in her gut. She did not like discussing this private business with a stranger on the side of the road, but she had to admit it was good to get some advance warning of the situation they were headed into. She turned and looked at Momma Peach. “Momma Peach, Sam, what do you two think?”

  “I think we need to speak to Charlene Readings,” Momma Peach answered Michelle. “But first, I need to fill my tummy with a good hot meal. My brain is running on empty and needs some fuel.”

  “I agree,” Sam told Michelle. “After we eat we'll go talk to your friend and get to the bottom of this.”

  Thelma eyeballed the snow. “Forecast is calling for a blizzard,” she said in a calm but warning tone. “You people better get settled in real soon.”

  “Can you recommend a good hotel?” Michelle asked.

  Thelma shook her head. “Ridge Falls doesn't have a hotel,” she sighed and studied the snow again. She looked at them and seemed to come to a decision. “Well, I guess you people better come home with me. I have plenty of room.”

  “No, we couldn't possibly impose on you like that,” Sam protested.

  “Yes, we can,” Momma Peach smiled, walked over to Thelma, and wrapped her arm around the woman. “I bet your home has plenty of good hot water and a nice fireplace, right?”

  Thelma smiled into Momma Peach's eyes. Momma Peach was a special woman, a kindred soul. “Don't you know it.”

  “I don't know,” Michelle hesitated. “I mean, your offer is very generous, but ma’am, there could be trouble somewhere down the line and—”

  “Thelma Dodge isn't afraid of trouble,” Thelma pointed her left forefinger at Michelle. “Listen to me, missy, and listen close. I've been making it on my own since I was sixteen years old. My husband did okay providing for us for the two years of our marriage before he was killed in a car accident. I've been a widow ever since. I've gone to bed hungry, lived in my truck, stood in food lines, but I never gave up fighting.” Thelma lowered her finger and fiddled with the cigarillo in her hand, thinking back. “When I finally landed a decent paying job driving a city bus when I was twenty-five, I swore I would repay the kindness I had been shown. I retired ten years ago, moved away from the big city, and moved here to Ridge Falls and began my own towing business. Why? I'll you why. I moved to Ridge Falls because my husband was born here and I'm a stupid, sentimental old woman, that's why. I don't go to bed hungry, I got a roof over my head and I donate money to food pantries. The good Lord has blessed me after making me tougher than nails. So I am not going to leave a car full of strangers on the side of the road, a hundred miles from a hotel and with this snowstorm barreling down on us, not today, not any day. Not when I’ve got the warmth and plenty of my home to give. Do you understand what I'm telling you, missy?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Michelle said in a humbled voice. “I understand perfectly. I'm sorry.”

  Thelma patted Michelle's shoulder. “Plus, I make a mean stack of flapjacks,” she smiled.

  “I can't wait,” Michelle smiled back. “And please...Thelma...call me Michelle.”

  “Okay, Miss Michelle, jump in that fancy SUV and warm your hands. Momma Peach, you're riding with me. Sam, you get your backside into the driver's seat of that SUV and follow me, very slowly. We had a bad ice storm before the snow arrived and the top surface of the roads are slicker than the stories my daddy used to tell me around the fireplace.”

  “Let's go,” Momma Peach said, feeling the icy winds begin to take their toll again. She hurried to the passenger's door of the tow truck, pulled it open, and a great deal of effort, managed to climb up into a warm, toasty cab filled with the upbeat sound of big band dance hits from the World War II era. “My, my,” Momma Peach sighed and leaned her face toward a vent blowing out hot air.

  Thelma climbed up into the passenger's seat and grabbed her seatbelt. “Buckle up, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach quickly fastened her seatbelt and leaned back into the vent. “I am frozen solid.”

  Thelma nodded and shifted the tow truck into gear and carefully began to ease down the snow-covered road. “You don't get much snow in Georgia, do you?”

  “Well, the North Georgia area gets some snow, but I live farther south,” Momma Peach explained. “I own my own bakery and I make the best peach pie you've ever tasted.”

  Thelma smiled. She felt pretty sure Momma Peach baked more than just peach pies and could not wait to taste some of the woman's cooking. “Are you married, Momma Peach?”

  “No. Like you, I lost my husband in a car accident a long time ago, too.”

  “We should go back to horse buggies,” Thelma replied but kept her smile, refusing to become sad even though she felt sadness in her heart most of the time. Being a childless window was tough—and lonely. She tried not to think about the childless part, though. “Buggies would be safer, don’tcha think?”

  “Yes, they would,” Momma Peach agreed. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted Sam carefully beginning to follow the tow truck. “Go slow, Mr. Sam.”

  Thelma checked the rearview mirror and eased off the gas. “I'll go a tad slower. Ain't no sense in getting in more trouble with the road.”

  Momma Peach leaned back in her seat and let sounds of the nineteen-forties music fill her ears. “Thelma, what do you know about the abandoned little girl?”

  “Not much,” Thelma spoke in an honest voice. She removed the cigarillo from her mouth and tossed it down into a built-in ashtray above the gearshift. “I was at Mom's Diner when the little girl walked in, alone. She looked scared...lost...hungry...a pitiful sight, broke my heart into a million little pieces.”

  “I bet it did.”

  “Mom sure didn't waste a second getting to the little girl,” Thelma continued. “Mom—that’s what everyone calls Amanda Westings who owns and runs the diner—she had a bowl of hot oatmeal and a plate of flapjacks slapped down onto a table in no time. Food first, questions later, that’s Mom’s policy.”

  Momma Peach nodded. “Were there a lot of people in the diner?”

  Thelma shook her head. “Nah. It was about...oh...two in the afternoon. I always stop by the diner about that time to chew the fat with Mom and have a good cup of coffee. Wasn't a soul in the diner expect for me, Mom, Kate, and Charlie.”

  “Kate...would be the waitress and Charlie would the cook, right?”

  “Mom's daughter and son-in-law,” Thelma confirmed. “Good people, Momma Peach.”

  “I bet.”

  Thelma focused her eyes on the snowy road. “This storm is going to be one for the books,” she said, showing a small dose of worry. “I was at home when I got the call about the SUV
stuck in a ditch. I have to say I wasn't much interested in coming out this far in the snow but now I'm glad I did. There's no way you and your friends would have been able to make it into town on time on foot.”

  “How far is town?” Momma Peach asked, studying the clouds and the swirling flakes around them.

  “About ten miles,” Thelma explained. “It's getting close to lunch and gets dark very early this time of year.”

  Momma Peach said a quick prayer of thanks. “I sure am grateful you decided to come all the way out to help us in the snow. I sure wouldn't have wanted to spend the night in the backseat of that smelly SUV, especially not since I was already chased by a bull.”

  “A bull? Oh, you mean Old Smith, Mr. Richardson's prize bull. I guess he broke through the fence again.”

  “Old Smith gave me a run for my money,” Momma Peach exclaimed.

  Thelma tossed a thumb at the red coat Momma Peach wore. “In that color? I'm not surprised,” she laughed. “Old Smith is a temperamental fella who doesn't like anyone, not even his owner. If we're blessed, one day that bull will run into Canada. Speaking of Canada, you folks might have ended up there, depending on who answered the call for a tow truck. Ridge Falls is just twenty miles south of the border. First I thought you folks were from Canada. You never know who’s passing through.”

  Momma Peach looked at Thelma and read the woman's statement clear as day. “Ms. Thelma is thinking the person…or people...who deserted that little girl came across the border, or were running there?”

  “Ridge Falls is the last stop before you reach the border,” Thelma said and checked the rearview mirror again. Sam kept up just fine. “The little girl in question showed up...oh, about two weeks ago. Nobody has tried to claim her since.”

  “And this sweet little girl has been living with Charlene Readings from day one?” Momma Peach asked.

  “As far as I know,” Thelma replied and then added: “Charlene has a heart of gold but she burned herself out trying to save every lost child in the big city and eventually, due to stress, had to relocate to a quiet community.”

  “Why did Charlene choose Ridge Falls? Does she have family here?”

  “Not a soul,” Thelma said. “To be honest, Momma Peach, I'm not sure how Charlene came to Ridge Falls. Maybe she drew names from a hat? Anyway, like I said, she’s the only social worker in town. It just made sense for her to take the girl in, there were no foster homes available on such short notice.”

  Momma Peach grew silent and let her thoughts wander around each other. As she did, the snow began to fall even harder and the winds picked up. “My, we are in for a storm, aren't we?” she asked.

  Thelma nodded. “Ridge Falls is a very remote town, Momma Peach. We're out in the middle of nowhere. People who live in Ridge Falls know two important facts, too.”

  “What are those two facts?”

  “Don't expect medical help, because you sure aren't gonna reach a hospital that can save your life in time if something bad happens,” Thelma explained.

  “What's fact two?”

  Thelma gripped the large steering wheel and narrowed her eyes. “In Ridge Falls, survival depends on trust, so people keep their mouths shut with outsiders,” she said and glanced at Momma Peach. “They’re just protecting what’s theirs.”

  “I kinda figured that,” Momma Peach sighed. “Which means people in this town aren't going to lay out the welcome mat for my Michelle.”

  “Nope,” Thelma confirmed. “Charlene Readings is a good woman, Momma Peach, but she might have made a grave mistake calling in an outsider. Of course, I think that’s hogwash. And I'm sure going to take a lot of heat over putting you and your friends up in my home, but that's my business. But,” Thelma said in a serious voice, “there are some people in Ridge Falls that especially don't like outsiders creeping in. Mom happens to be one of them. That old woman is the best but she's a cold fish to strangers. Her daughter and son-in-law are good people, but an outsider wouldn't know it. In Ridge Falls you take care of your own and keep the outside world out.”

  Momma Peach looked into the rearview mirror and continued to watch Sam carefully maneuvering the SUV through the snow. “I don't like people being rude to the people I love,” she told Thelma. “I like to be treated the way I treat people, too. That’s Jesus’ Golden Rule, after all.”

  Thelma patted Momma Peach's arm. “Let's just get through this storm, okay, and worry about tomorrow when tomorrow knocks on the back door—” The sound of a ringing cell phone interrupted Thelma. “Excuse me, Momma Peach.” Thelma snatched up a cell phone from the seat. “Yeah, this is Thelma. …Oh, hey Chief, I'm just driving back into town with—” Her face paled. “What? When? ...My goodness…Yeah...uh...give me fifteen minutes. I'm en route now.”

  Momma Peach closed her eyes in a silent prayer. “What's wrong?” she asked Thelma and waited for a dark drape to fall over the remainder of the day.

  “Charlene Readings was just found in her truck outside someone’s house...dead,” Thelma told Momma Peach in a shocked voice. “Out on old Maples Road by the lake.”

  Momma Peach opened her eyes and looked out at the snow. The snow grinned back at her with sharp teeth.

  Chapter Two

  Momma Peach spotted a red truck parked in a deserted driveway overgrown with grass and weeds sticking through the snow. The truck sat cold and silent, covered with hours’ worth of snowfall. “Oh my,” Momma Peach whispered and braced herself for a difficult day.

  “There's the chief,” Thelma said and eased the tow truck up to a short, chubby man wearing a black and blue parka with Chief of Police stitched over the breast, and an insulated gray winter cap. “Chief,” she said over a howling wind.

  Chief Barney Duddles placed his right hand over his eyes to shield them from the pelting snow, looked past Thelma toward Momma Peach, and then focused on the SUV pulling up behind the tow truck. “Who do you have with you, Thelma?” he asked in an annoyed voice.

  “Just some folks who ran their SUV into a ditch,” Thelma explained in a quick voice. “The SUV was following me back into town when you called. Roads are too rough to let that kind of vehicle go it alone again. Besides, the woman in the SUV is a homicide detective from Georgia. But that’s not all – Charlene called her and apparently asked for some kind of help?”

  Chief Duddles frowned. He did not like strangers at his crime scene – especially not the kind of crime scene that threatened to tear open their community. “I see,” he said, watching Michelle get out of the SUV and jog up to the tow truck.

  “Thelma, why did you bring us here? I thought your house was…” Michelle’s voice trailed off. “Wait, isn’t that Charlene’s truck? This isn’t Charlene’s place.”

  Momma Peach leaned forward in her seat. “Oh honey. Your friend—”

  “Charlene Readings’ body is in that truck, hunched over the steering wheel,” Chief Duddles interrupted Momma Peach and eyed Michelle with suspicion. “You must be the homicide detective from Georgia Thelma mentioned.”

  “I'm Detective Michelle Chan,” Michelle said and presented her badge with shocked, sorrowful eyes. “Her truck…appears to have been parked for a few hours.” In her numb emotional state she could only retreat into the safety of clear, calm observations about the crime scene.

  Chief Duddles studied Michelle's badge and then looked at the red truck. He could not believe his luck. A homicide detective from out-of-state was now riding his murder scene—a homicide detective called by Charlene Readings, a woman he never liked or cared for from the first day she arrived in town. “Yeah, it does,” he said in a cold tone. “Look, this is my crime scene, detective, so I would appreciate it if you kept your nose clear, okay? You have no jurisdiction in Ridge Falls.”

  “Charlene Readings is—was my friend,” Michelle informed Chief Duddles in a quick, explosive voice. “I would appreciate it if you showed some respect.”

  Thelma watched Chief Duddles' face turn red enough to melt snow. “Thelma, I
can't move the truck until Brent gets here. He's been delayed.” Chief Duddles tossed a thumb at the SUV. “Detective, you and your friends can leave. The roads aren't impassable yet.”

  Michelle studied the scene. “You're here alone? Why?” she demanded.

  “Because Officer Brent Malone is still in Maine visiting his brother, which means I'm running solo,” Chief Duddles barked, proving that his attitude certainly didn't match his comical form. “The town can only afford me and Brent to protect it and we do a pretty good job, Detective. So forgive me if CSI isn't on the scene with me.”

  “There’s no need for your attitude, so knock it off,” Michelle warned Chief Duddles. “We're both cops, so act like it. A woman is dead and it's our job to find out how she died and why. If you can't act professional I'll get in touch with some very powerful people who have the power to make you clean up your act, got it?”

  Chief Duddles stared into Michelle's cold face. He was not sure if the woman was bluffing or not. Women like Michelle knew people, he realized—people who could yank his authority away and give it to an outsider, which meant big trouble if such an event did take place; dangerous trouble. It was better to play ball for a while until he could figure Michelle out. “You’re so eager to get this investigation started, why don’t you go take a look in the truck, Detective.”

  “That's more like it,” Michelle said and waved at Momma Peach and Sam to join her. Momma Peach unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out into the snow. Sam jumped out of the SUV and jogged up to Michelle. Michelle explained the situation.

  “Dead?” Sam asked incredulously. He let his eyes fall on the red truck half-buried in the snow drifts. A horrible, cold feeling—colder than the icy winds—struck his gut.

  “There's no sense in standing here freezing,” Momma Peach said and began making her way through the snow toward the red truck. Michelle and Sam followed, looking at each other with worried eyes. “Please don't be bad...please don't be bad,” she begged under her breath.