Not Peachy, Mate

by Wendy Meadows

  Evan wiped his tears away. “The local police will do nothing except send you away, put Patty in the ground and look the other way,” Evan told Michelle in a miserable voice. “The police in this area aren't equipped to handle murder,” he finished. Despondent, the man seemed unable to change his mind, and Michelle and Momma Peach looked at each other, worried.

  “Okay, Evan, have it your way,” the voice slithered from a distance. “I gave you a chance to live and you turned it down. Now you and your friends will die.”

  Evan fussed and fussed. “I've got to get you two out of Greenglow,” he insisted, not caring about the consequences of staying. “I don't want to see you hurt.”

  Michelle had had enough. She was hungry, burning up in the heat, sweating waterfalls and ready for a hot shower and a long nap. On top of that, she was desperately worried Able was waiting back home and that their meeting upon her return would not be a pleasant one. It was time to stop being nice and start being a cop. “Evan, if you refuse to cooperate I'm going to place you under arrest for your own good!” she snapped. “I'm not going to let you stay here and die.” Michelle placed her gun down on the edge of the trailer and locked her eyes on Evan. “I hate to get rough with you, but I'm not going to see an innocent man—” but before Michelle could finish her sentence, a single rifle shot licked the hot air. “Down!”

  Evan grabbed Momma Peach and pulled her into the garage as a bullet ripped through the engine of the dune buggy. Seconds later, three extra bullets joined the first, disabling the dune buggy's engine. Michelle snatched her gun off the wagon, crawled into the garage, and took cover behind the Volkswagen. “Momma Peach, are you okay?”

  “Just fine,” Momma Peach promised. She crouched behind the Volkswagen with Evan. “Mr. Evan saved me.”

  Evan narrowed his eyes and studied his dune buggy. He saw water pouring down onto the dirt, so the radiator was punctured. Next, he focused on the dark oil leaking out in steady, fat drops. “There it goes—” he tried to speak but stopped when four more bullets ripped through the air and punctured all four tires on the dune buggy. Then silence fell—an eerie, frightening silence that spooked the mind. “We're not leaving Greenglow alive,” Evan whispered in an ominous voice.

  Momma Peach studied the poor dune buggy, now completely disabled. “Why?” she asked in exasperation. “Mr. Evan, the note we found in your store said you had until morning. Why destroy the only means of transportation you have?”

  “Maybe whoever is doing the shooting wants Evan...wants all of us...to walk out of here on foot?” Michelle offered.

  Evan shook his head in the negative. “In these parts it doesn't work that way. I was given a message to leave...the man who killed Patty and Mitch just showed me he had a change of mind.” Evan turned his head and looked at Momma Peach and then over at Michelle. “You two will die with me,” he said in a voice that caused Michelle to shiver all over. “We won't see morning.”

  “Stop that kind of talk,” Momma Peach ordered Evan. She felt scared, creeped out and downright confused, but not defeated. “I ain't going down without a fight, do you hear me? Me and Michelle have tangled with some pretty rough street dogs that bit pretty hard. We put those dogs down then and we're not about to stop now.” Momma Peach looked at Michelle. “We're being watched.” Michelle nodded. “That there shooter must have heard Evan confess that he has no intention of leaving. That's the only explanation I can come up with at this here moment.”

  Michelle kept her eyes peeled on the outside. “Only explanation that makes sense, Momma Peach,” she said. “The killer was watching us and disabled the dune buggy in order to trap us.”

  “But why was the shooter willing to let Evan leave in the first place?” Momma Peach wondered. “We have some sticks to chew on and some mud to walk through.” Momma Peach eased her eyes around the Volkswagen and peered outside. The blinding sun greeted her eyes. “Whoever the shooter is,” she said, “he's a rat that is used to this land. And he’s a darn good shot.”

  Evan glanced at Momma Peach and then focused his attention back on the dune buggy. “Best if we stay put for a while,” he said. “The only way into this garage bay is through the front. If we sit still, no one will be able to sneak in on us. We'll...sit tight and…I guess we’ll just have to see how we're going to die.”

  “Stop talking like that,” Momma Peach begged. “We're not going to sit here waiting to be shot like fish in a barrel. No sir and no ma’am. We're gonna fight.”

  Evan shook his head. “Momma Peach,” he said in a tone that held no fight, “that rifle sounded like a military rifle, to my ears. People in this part of the territory own hunting rifles, not military rifles.” Evan sighed. “I know everyone in this town, every single soul. I would know if someone had a military rifle...” Evan shook his head. “The rifle we heard isn't owned by a native of Greenglow. Whoever is doing the shooting isn't afraid of me or anything you can do. Not with a weapon of that caliber.”

  “Evan, whoever is doing the shooting obviously knows you,” Michelle pointed out. “They know your name. They knew how to find Patrick. That's very important. If you can try to toss a few names into the air, maybe we'll have something to work with.” Michelle kept her eyes trained on the outside world. “Try and focus instead of giving up so quickly.”

  “Michelle is right,” Momma Peach told Evan. “Mr. Evan, you need to fight, and get that brain of yours to working. Please.”

  Evan shook his head again. “The less we know the better,” he said. “The man hiding out there in the heat will kill us when he's ready. There's nothing we can do to stop him.” Evan crawled away from the back of the Volkswagen, went to the water bucket, pulled out a soda, popped it open, and took a drink. “The man hiding out there in that heat is a killer with a powerful weapon under his belt. Even if I wanted to try and fight him, I would just be walking into the mouth of death.”

  Michelle wanted to yell at Evan to get some get-up and go in him but focused on Momma Peach instead. “Ideas?” she asked, a little desperate.

  “I need time to think,” Momma Peach told Michelle in a voice that said her back was up against a brick wall. “At least them bullets have stopped and—”

  “Evan?” a voice hollered in a thick British accent. “Evan, you can hear me. I know you can.”

  Evan immediately recognized the voice. “Alistair Berman,” he whispered in a panicked voice. “So it's you...”

  “Evan, I'm going to give you one last chance,” Alistair called out. He stepped out from behind the large boulder hiding him from their view across from the garage and stepped toward the garage. “I can kill you, Evan, but I don't want to. I've always liked you.”

  “Who is that?” Michelle snapped at Evan. “Why would he want to kill you?” Michelle tried in vain to get the man in her sights but he was obscured by the gas pumps and she could not fire off a shot at him safely.

  Evan set down the soda he was holding and duck-walked over to Momma Peach. “Alistair Berman,” he said in a shaky voice.

  “Who is Alistair Berman?” Momma Peach asked, keeping her eyes wide and alert.

  “A man who shares the same mother as Patty,” Evan explained and quickly wiped sweat off his brow.

  “Evan, you have until tonight to get out of Greenglow. On foot. Over the open land,” Alistair yelled. “If I see you on the road, I'll shoot you down like the dog you are. Am I making myself clear?”

  “The open side,” Evan whispered in a fearful voice.

  Momma Peach studied Evan's eyes. The poor man had no fight in him whatsoever. “Listen here, turkey!” she screamed at Alistair, “you can take your threats and eat them for lunch, ‘cause you sure ain't scaring us.”

  “What are you—” Evan began to panic.

  “Hush and watch,” Momma Peach ordered Evan. She popped up onto one knee and squinted her eyes around the crippled dune buggy. “I don't take lip off no chump, you turkey, and I sure ain't afraid of no coward with a rifle. Mr. Evan ain't scared of
you, neither. No sir and no ma’am! We ain't scared of you, chump!”

  Alistair stared at the garage. The angle of the building prevented him from being able to take a clear shot at Momma Peach. “Patty was wrong to involve you, woman,” he hollered and waited, but there was no response. “Evan, I'm going to give you and your friends a chance to live.” Alistair dabbed sweat from his forehead and neatly combed blond hair with a crisply folded handkerchief, brushed dust off his finely pressed gray and brown hunting suit, and then repositioned the dark sunglasses covering his eyes. He was a distinguished man who was tending to some very unfortunate business. There was no need to carry out such work with a messy appearance. “You should have left with the others, Evan. Your only chance to survive is to leave through the open land.”

  “Listen, turkey,” Momma Peach yelled, “ain't no one else gonna die, do you hear me? I’m gonna tear you a new one when she gets her hands on you!”

  Alistair stared at the garage. He didn't like being called names by this apparently uneducated American. “Patty talked fondly of you, woman. He told me how...charismatic you can me. Pity you choose to be so rude at this moment. But I suppose Patrick always did make friends with circus freaks.”

  “Circus freaks?” Momma Peach asked and then gritted her teeth. “Did that turkey call me a circus freak? Oh no, he didn't!” Momma Peach looked around for her pocketbook. Unfortunately, her pocketbook was still locked inside of her suitcase. “I am gonna beat that turkey into the dirt! Yes sir and yes ma’am!”

  Evan saw Momma Peach begin to get to her feet to brave her way outside into the hot sun. “Are you insane?” he asked and quickly grabbed her arm, yanking her to the ground. “Alistair will shoot you in an instant.”

  “No chump calls me a circus freak and gets away with it,” Momma Peach told Evan. “I am just going to go outside and beat some sense into that turkey. He needs to learn his manners.”

  “I'll be watching,” Alistair yelled, unconcerned. “You have until tonight. If you're still here when the stars come out, I'll shoot you down where you stand!”

  “Okay...okay!” Evan yelled. “We'll walk out by sunset!”

  Alistair’s smile was evident in his smooth words. “You were always a smart man, Evan. Just make sure your two lady friends are as smart as you are.” Alistair glanced up at the boiling sun. It was time for him to get into the shade and take down some water. “I don't want to kill you, Evan,” he yelled. “I'm giving you this chance because I like you. I…pity you. Do you give me your word you will walk out of here by sunset?”

  “You...you have my word!” Evan promised.

  Alistair glanced up at the sky again. “Good, Evan, very good. I know you're a man of your word. Just make sure you don't go to the local idiots and report a thing. If you do...if you betray me...I'll come for you. Do you hear me?”

  “I'll...” Evan felt a sickness enter his soul. “I'm betraying my wife,” he whispered in a miserable voice. But what choice did he have? Momma Peach and Michelle didn't deserve to die. He would lead them through the open side and if they survived...he would return and face Alistair himself, or die trying. “I'll be back,” he promised his wife and then yelled: “I can't speak for the two sheilas that are with me, but I promise I won't say a word.”

  Alistair knew there was no chance of Evan surviving the open with two women at his side. Even if, by some wild chance, Evan did survive an arduous trek through the open land and went to the police, so what? The local idiots, he knew, would simply collect two dead bodies and run away with their tails stuck between their legs. Still, he wanted to make sure Evan wouldn't fall prey to the schemes of the two meddling women and run his mouth more than he should. “I'm going to leave, Evan, and return when the first star appears in the sky. Don't be in Greenglow when I get back...don't ever return to Greenglow, for that matter. Ever, do you hear me?”

  “We won't be here, Alistair...I'll leave Greenglow.”

  Alistair nodded. “You better leave and never come back,” he whispered, fading back silently through the brush to a four-wheeler parked a few meters back. He jumped on and sped away. “If you ever do return, I'll kill you where you stand...if they don't kill me first,” he said in a voice that admitted fear.

  Momma Peach and Michelle both heard Alistair escaping on the four-wheeler. Michelle kicked the Volkswagen with an angry foot. “I don't like being run off!”

  Momma stared into the scorching day. “My sweet friend is dead,” she said in a deep, thoughtful voice. “I ain't gonna let sweet Patrick’s death be kicked into some cold case folder and slammed shut in a dusty filing cabinet. No sir and no ma’am.”

  “Momma Peach,” Evan pleaded, “if you stay in Greenglow, Alistair will shoot you dead.”

  “Baby,” Momma Peach told Evan, narrowed her eyes, rubbed her chin, and then looked around, “that turkey made a bad mistake just now by leaving us alone instead of shooting us down. Yes sir and yes ma’am.”

  Evan felt a headache coming on. “What do you mean?” he dared to ask.

  Momma Peach walked over to a wooden chair and plopped down. “Michelle, we have to catch ourselves a killer snake. The only question is, how?”

  Michelle eased her head out into the bright sunlight and looked around. “Evan,” she said, “can you take us to the watering spot?”

  “The watering spot?” Evan asked in a confused voice.

  Michelle turned and focused her eyes on Momma Peach. “We won't be here when night falls,” she said. “Right, Momma Peach?”

  Momma Peach read Michelle's eyes and then grinned. “All that turkey ordered us to do was leave town—”

  “And go through the open land,” Evan pointed out.

  “Will that turkey be following us every step of the way?” Momma Peach asked.

  “Well...no...but Alistair will assume...” Evan stopped talking and studied Momma Peach's statement with thoughtful eyes. “Say...you’re right…Alistair wouldn't follow us.” Evan sat down next to Momma Peach. “Alistair is sending us into the open land hoping the land will kill us...but...” Evan looked down at his hands for a second. “But what if we did go and hide at the watering spot?”

  Momma Peach nodded at Evan. “That turkey wants us out of this town for a reason, Mr. Evan, and he's killed a good man in the process. They ain't no way I’m gonna turn trail myself and scooter-poot out of this here desert without paying my respects to my dear friend...rest his soul.”

  Michelle looked at Evan. “Evan, it's time to start talking,” she ordered in a tough voice. “We need answers and we need them now.”

  Evan began to open his mouth but before he could say a word, a brown and white state police car pulled up in front of the garage.

  4

  A lovely blond-headed woman stepped out of the police car, glanced around with careful eyes, and then focused on the garage. “Evan, get out here!” she called out in a thick Australian accent that was tough yet still feminine enough to show that under the police uniform stood a woman with a sunny disposition, the kind who was unafraid to cry tears of joy and sorrow in private and secretly dreamed of love.

  “Grace,” Evan whispered in a confused voice. He scratched the back of his neck and wandered out into the hot sun. Momma Peach followed close behind. Michelle wiped sweat away from her eyes, put her gun back in the holster on her ankle, and hurried after Momma Peach.

  Grace Clark spotted Evan walking out of his garage with two strange women trailing behind. She slowly placed her right hand down onto a gun resting on her hip. “Your buggy is a mess and that truck is dead on its wheels,” she said in an uneasy voice. “What’s going on?”

  Momma Peach locked her eyes on Grace. “My, what a pretty woman,” she whispered, taking in Grace's lovely tanned face that was complimented by her bright blond hair wrapped up in a high ponytail. “Why, she's just like a...Australian version of Michelle.” Momma Peach scanned the brown police uniform Grace was wearing. It was clear the woman was in good shape and not one to back down
from a fight—and that was just fine with Momma Peach.

  Evan threw a quick eye at Grace. “Engine caught fire on the truck...my fault. The buggy...will live,” he lied and then ran forward before Momma Peach or Michelle could jump on his back. “Grace, what are you doing here? You're a long ways from your own trail.”

  Grace glanced over to Momma Peach. She saw a short black woman who was a bit chubby but whose face and smile were so very sweet to the eyes. Then she looked at Michelle. Michelle stood stern, rigid and prepared for trouble—the way any good cop would stand. “Who are your friends?”

  “I'm Momma Peach,” Momma Peach beamed. “This here is Michelle Chan, she’s a cop out of our hometown in Georgia in the good old US of A.”

  “Hello,” Michelle said in a reserved voice.

  Grace nodded. “I came across a dead rental car on the main road. Yours?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Michelle answered.

  “Mitch Taylor drove them into Greenglow,” Evan explained, staring at Grace. He lifted his right hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “What brings you?” he asked again. Grace Clark didn't need to be in Greenglow. No one needed to be in Greenglow. What a mess. Two men were already dead, and Evan wasn't sure the body count wouldn't go up by night.

  “I've come to see Patty,” Grace explained. “Patty called me last night.” Grace studied Momma Peach and Michelle. “Patty told me he was expecting some visitors…I suppose that would be you two, is that right?”

  Momma Peach frowned. “Patty is—”

  “Sleeping,” Evan cut her off.

  “Dead,” Momma Peach said in a stern voice. She slapped Evan on his arm. “You better pull your britches up and stop lollygagging. I know you're worried but there's a time to eat pie and a time to eat your green beans.” Momma Peach focused back on Grace. Grace was staring at her in disbelief. “A desert rat named Alistair Berman shot Patty in his back.”