Momma Peach crawled over to the room door and opened it. “Detective MacNeigh!” she called out in desperation, her voice scratchy and hoarse from the wringing it had taken from Wording’s cruel hands. Only Detective MacNeigh was nowhere in sight. Exhausted and overwhelmed, Momma Peach let out a final call for help, then collapsed down onto the floor and didn't move until her room was full of cops.
Now, so many years later, she would not let the memory of that terrible night keep her from doing what needed to be done. She took a deep breath and gripped the phone in her hand. “Listen, turkey, you ain't gonna finish nothing,” Momma Peach promised J.W. “Years ago, you attacked me and tried to strangle me to death. That night was supposed to be a trap for you. I was expecting my friend Detective MacNeigh to have my back, only I didn't know you bought him off. I’m a smarter and much more capable woman now, and I’m only depending on my own self. So get your butt over here and let's get this fight on!” Momma Peach slammed down the phone and looked at Old Joe. “Old Joe, get to the police station and tell Michelle not to come here until I call her.”
Old Joe stared at Momma Peach. He understood. “I can stay,” he offered.
“You helped me get my mind straight,” Momma Peach told Old Joe with a grateful smile. “That's enough. Now go. It's time for me to think a little unorthodox.”
Old Joe nodded his head and walked outside, but he didn't go far. He had some thoughts of his own to work through.
Miles away, a certain Captain Paul Oaks of the Georgia Highway Patrol was wondering if the strange old lady who called him earlier was actually sincere and not batty, as he had first assumed. The thought had preoccupied him all day and now he found himself awake and worried. Unable to sleep, he got dressed, kissed his wife, and decided to drive to the bakery and take a look around. Better safe than sorry, he thought to himself as he drove carefully through the fog, even if he was officially off duty.
J.W. stepped into the alley with the poison syringe tucked into the pocket of his expensive overcoat. The alley was filled with fog, but he managed to glimpse the back door to Momma Peach's bakery propped open just enough to allow a little light to slip outside. “You're a dead woman,” he whispered and eased up to the back door. He stopped to examine his surroundings carefully. As far as he could tell, the alley was empty, and no one was lurking in the fog except for an old street bum he had encountered down the street asking for spare change. “Carefully now,” he whispered and peeked through the back door. He saw Momma Peach standing in front of a kitchen sink with her arms folded. She seemed to look straight at him.
“Come in, turkey,” Momma Peach called out.
J.W. looked over his shoulder and then pushed the back door the rest of the way open. “Hello, Momma Peach. How lovely to see you again.”
Momma Peach stared into a cruel face that had aged very badly. The body the face was attached to seemed to be in good shape and fit for a fight. “You're still a monster,” she said and slowly unfolded her arms, revealing a pocketbook that dangled from her right wrist.
J.W. stepped into the kitchen, looked around with cautious eyes, and then closed the back door. “You kept your word. I'm impressed,” he said, and without saying another word, he pulled out the syringe. “I have decided to forgo strangling you, Momma Peach. I will instead inject you with the poison in this syringe. This poison, you see,” J.W. said and flicked the syringe with his left finger, “immediately attacks the brain and causes it to begin swelling. The death is very painful, I'm afraid. Mother insisted on killing her victims with mercy. I, on the other hand, desire to achieve...different results.”
“And I desire to beat you senseless,” Momma Peach promised J.W. Without saying another word, she pulled a gun out of her pocketbook. “I could shoot you dead right now, turkey. But instead, I want a fair fight. We will lay down our weapons. Put that syringe down on that there table.”
“Very well,” J.W. said and obeyed Momma Peach. He set the syringe down on the baking table closer to him.
Momma Peach nodded her head and set the gun in her hand down; the gun was fake, but she hoped J.W. didn't know that. “Now, back up and get ready to tangle.”
J.W. nodded his head and backed up until his heels touched the back door. His eyes darted around as he checked the kitchen for weaponry. “Whenever you're ready, Momma Peach.”
“Before we tangle, boy,” Momma Peach told J.W., “let's get something straight. There ain't no rules.” Momma Peach stood in front of the baking table. “You want to get to that there syringe and kill me, you're going to have to fight for it first, and Momma Peach don't like playing by no rules when it comes to the likes of you.” Momma Peach gripped her pocketbook. “Come and get a piece of peach pie, boy!”
“Very well,” J.W. said, and to Momma Peach's shock, the man levered a powerful front kick that nearly caught her in the chest. But Momma Peach was fast. She dodged out of the way and smacked J.W. in the face with her pocketbook, circling to block him from the table before the man could grab his syringe. J.W. stumbled backward, turned around, and was met with another blow to the face. He stepped back, saw Momma Peach charge at him again, and kicked her in the stomach. Momma Peach collapsed backward, hit the baking table, and caught her breath, but came up and charged forward with her pocketbook swinging madly in the air. J.W. narrowed his eyes and ducked her attack and threw a hard front punch at Momma Peach when she came within range. Momma Peach, after years of watching Michelle kick people's butts, knew how to dodge a front punch, however. She ducked out of the way, grabbed J.W. by his waist, and dropped all her weight down onto the floor, dragging him along with her. J.W. felt himself collapse as they tumbled messily down to the floor.
Wedging him partway under her, Momma Peach began striking him in the face with her fists as hard as she could, determined to give as good as she got with the man who had haunted her dreams for so many years. J.W. was a little fast for her and grabbed Momma Peach's arm during a swing and threw her off to the side. He then rolled away and jumped to his feet. “Stupid woman,” he grinned and snatched the syringe off the baking table before Momma Peach could stand up and block him again. “Did you really believe you could defeat me in a physical fight?”
Momma Peach grabbed her pocketbook off the floor and leaned up onto her knees. “I had to prove I wasn't scared of you no more,” she said, breathing hard. “You might kill me, but at least I can prove I ain't scared no more.” Momma Peach stared into Wording's cruel eyes. “You ain't nothing but a sewer rat,” she spat at him. “You may talk fancy and wear fancy clothes but you're lower than scum, and you know it.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Momma Peach,” J.W. said and rubbed his forehead with his left hand. “I know my worth because I fought my way here. And I will never forget that years ago you caused me great disgrace and many hardships followed after. Now I'm going to avenge myself. But before I kill you, I want you to know that I still intend to kill everyone you love. I'm going to start with that stupid little orphan you call Timmy.”
Momma Peach got to her feet with rage coursing through her veins. “Those are your dying words,” she promised him.
“Oh really?” J.W. grinned. He raised the syringe in his right hand and darted toward Momma Peach. Momma Peach stood very still and at the very last second, right before J.W. reached her, she swung her pocketbook as hard as she could in an upward arc. Her aim was true. The pocketbook struck J.W. Wording's right hand. Momma Peach watched the man's face grow white and fearful as his hand swung toward his neck with a fierce momentum that he could not counteract.
“No!” J.W. screamed when his right hand plunged the syringe deep into the left side of his neck. He staggered back.
“Oh yes,” Old Joe said, stepping into the kitchen with Michelle. Michelle had her gun out and aimed at J.W. “Sorry, Momma Peach,” Old Joe said, “I know you said to stay away, but we couldn't take the chance this chump might kill you.”
Momma Peach kept her eyes on J.W. The man slowly dr
opped down to his knees. She watched his face slowly begin to swell and foam begin to slip out of his terrified mouth. “You...you...” J.W. tried to speak. He threw his hands around his neck and scrabbled at an invisible noose as he began to suffocate. His eyes became bloodshot, bulging out of his head as he shook and writhed in agony. Momma Peach walked over to Michelle. Michelle lowered her gun and watched a monster die.
“Old Joe called me, Momma Peach,” Michelle explained. “He told me that you needed to finish the fight on your own, but we figured we would cover your back.”
Momma Peach looked at Old Joe and then looked at Michelle. She was tired and fearful but filled with gratitude. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” she said just as the back door burst open. A man appeared with his gun drawn.
“State Patrol!” Paul Oaks yelled. He spotted J.W. lying on the floor with a syringe stuck in his neck.
“It's okay,” Michelle told the stranger, “I’m police. The bad guy is dead.” She took out her badge and displayed it for the man, who in turn took out his badge and showed Michelle.
“A woman named Rachel called me and claimed her niece was in danger,” Paul explained and slowly lowered his gun. “She seemed...a little crazy. I didn't believe her at first, but she was very insistent. I was going to call your police chief in the morning for a welfare check. But Rachel’s words kept gnawing at my gut all night, so I drove over here myself. I guess the old lady was right.” He looked around, wide-eyed.
Momma Peach smiled. “My Aunt Rachel, what a doll,” she said and patted Paul on the shoulder. “I don’t blame you a bit for thinking she was a few cards short of a full deck. But you know what? When push comes to shove, I’d rather have Aunt Rachel on my side than a full cavalry.”
Momma Peach felt like a million bucks. Sure, the case ended messily instead of nice and neat. Sure, she had a dead man on the floor of her kitchen and a whole lot of explaining to do. Sure, the story wrapped up bumpy instead of smooth. Momma Peach didn't care that it wasn’t perfect. What mattered to her was that a monster was dead and never coming back. “Just don't let me enter another Golden Days Flour contest and everything will be fine and dandy,” Momma Peach grinned.
Paul Oaks looked at Michelle in confusion.
“Don't ask,” Michelle told Paul and patted Old Joe on the shoulder. “I think it's safe to call our family and tell them to come home.”
“You bet,” Old Joe smiled and hugged Michelle tight around the neck. “You'll do. You'll all do.”
Chapter 10
Momma Peach sure was glad the fog was gone. She was feeling mighty pretty in the bright yellow dress Sam had bought her and feeling mighty happy to be out at Fort Mountain State Park having a picnic. “Old Joe, how are those burgers coming?” she called out as a warm breeze touched her face and began playing with her dress.
“Don't rush me!” Old Joe yelled, standing at a grill waving smoke away from his face. “Old Joe ain't used to cooking on one of these grills.”
Momma Peach chuckled to herself and looked around. The state park was absolutely gorgeous. A serene, clear blue lake glittered in the distance through the trees, cool as a diamond in the softness of the day. The sight of the lake sent a deep, peaceful feeling through Momma Peach's heart. “The good Lord sure does make His world beautiful,” Momma Peach whispered. She glimpsed Timmy racing down a slide at the nearby playground. Sam was with him, dressed rugged as usual and looking relaxed. Momma Peach smiled. She sure loved having her family around her on such a beautiful, perfect day.
“Blasted burgers,” Old Joe yelled and slapped more smoke away from his face as the flames leapt up again.
Momma Peach chuckled to herself. “Well, maybe if you wasn't dressed like a pool shark you might be able to handle that grill a little better!”
“Don't insult the suit, woman!” Old Joe yelled back. He smoothed down a garishly striped vest matching his suit pants and stepped back from the charcoal grill again. His matching suit jacket, orange with pale yellow pinstripes, rested over a low branch of a nearby tree.
“That suit insults itself,” Momma Peach laughed. She spotted Michelle standing alone, fiddling with the pitcher of sweet tea. “Where's Able?”
“Still trying to catch a fish,” Michelle sighed. She sat down on a green lawn chair and watched Sam and Timmy. The little boy was having the time of his life. “I'm glad we decided to come up to this park and camp for the weekend.”
Momma Peach turned and looked at Michelle. Her baby was wearing her black leather jacket over a lovely blue dress, dressed for work instead of for the park. But what could Momma Peach say? The leather jacket was part of Michelle. “I’m glad, too.” Momma Peach smiled and tossed a thumb at Old Joe. “Even though we might starve to death by the time he gets through with them there burgers.”
“I heard that, woman!” Old Joe yelled and suddenly jumped back as the grill caught fire.
Michelle rolled her eyes. “We are definitely going to starve,” she sighed and pointed toward the lake. “I love Able, but we better not count on him catching us any fish for tonight. He's already hooked himself five times.”
“Momma Peach sneaked some cans of stew,” Momma Peach whispered. “Us girls will cook supper later.”
Michelle grinned. “I figured you did, Momma Peach.”
Momma Peach leaned back in her chair. “Ah, what a beautiful day,” she said, looking up into a clear blue sky. “And just feel that breeze.”
Michelle leaned back and actually relaxed. “Momma Peach?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“You were really brave to fight J.W. Wording,” Michelle said. “I stood in the back alley with Old Joe and watched you fight him. I was impressed.”
“Momma Peach had to fight a monster, and stop playing his games.”
Michelle nodded her head. “You're a fighter,” she agreed.
Momma Peach raised her head and looked at Michelle. “What are you getting at?”
“Well,” Michelle said and looked up at the blue sky, “a lot of people in town are impressed that you took down a killer who posed a very serious threat to the town. There’s a lot of talk that you had a better handle on the situation than the mayor. Lots of folks are insisting he resign.” Michelle kept her eyes on the beautiful sky. “I was asked to speak with you and...kinda feel out the situation. How would you feel about running in a special election to be the new mayor?”
“Mayor? Momma Peach?” Momma Peach exclaimed and began laughing so hard she feared she might bust a gut. “Oh, I ain't no politician. I bake my peach pies and peach bread and peach cake...no sir and no, ma’am, I ain't fit to be no politician.”
“But Momma Peach,” Michelle begged and focused on Momma Peach's laughing face, “people back home want you to become the new mayor. People back home love and trust you. They don’t want someone who loves politics and all the dirty business that comes with it. They want someone with good character, someone who loves the town and wants to make sure everything works out right in the end. You have to take the job. I kinda...told everyone that I would...convince you to say yes.”
“Oh,” Momma Peach continued laughing, “Don’t you think I have my hands full with other things, like Timothy? Not to mention that peacock of a man over there? How are those burgers coming, Joe?”
“Leave me alone, woman!” Old Joe hollered and doused the flaming grill with water.
Michelle sighed. “I understand...I guess,” she said and looked over at Sam and Timmy. Timmy waved at her. Michelle waved back. “I was hoping you would take the job before Mrs. Edwards was offered the position.”
Momma Peach stopped laughing. Her head popped up and her face became stone cold. “Did you say Mrs. Edwards?” she asked Michelle.
Michelle nodded her head. “Mrs. Edwards was deputy mayor for a few years, a while back when she was younger. She's a very popular woman about town, Momma Peach, and people love her and trust her the same way they do you.”
Momma Peach narrowed her eyes. �
��Oh, this is war. This is war, yes sir and yes, ma’am!”
Michelle grinned. “Mrs. Edwards might put up a fierce campaign, Momma Peach.”
“Oh, bring it on, old woman,” Momma Peach said through gritted teeth. “I ain't afraid. I done stood up to my worst enemy and I’m ready to tangle again, so bring on that special election. You can bet I’ll be running for mayor, and I’ll win or die trying. Oh yes, bring it on.”
In the distance, birds sang happily as the soft winds played in the trees, caressing the beautiful day with love and beauty.
Far away in Momma Peach's hometown, darkness struck once more and then vanished. When the darkness cleared, a man lay dead in a cramped office. An hour later, the news spread all over town that the mayor everyone wanted to step down had been shot in the back. Of course, Momma Peach didn't know this. She was too busy figuring out how to leave Mrs. Edwards’ campaign in the dust.
Oh, it was going to be happy days...happy, peachy days. Well...maybe.
Dear Reader,
Hi there. Thank you for reading.
I hope you’ll leave a review and/or rating at the retail website where you purchased it, I appreciate you and your feedback.
Thanks again,
Wendy Meadows
Be the First to Know
Sign up to be the first to know about new book releases!
Click or visit the link below.
www.wendymeadows.com/cozy
About the Author
Wendy Meadows is a USA Today bestselling author of cozy mysteries. She lives in “The Granite State” with her husband, two sons, two cats and lovable Labradoodle.
When she isn’t working on her stories she likes to tend to her flowers, relax with her pets and play video games with her family.
What a Peachy Night Page 15