“Shelia, when you get Nadine Burton and Martin Galloway into custody, tell them that you have a man named J.W. Wording behind bars and that he's pointing the finger directly at them. I bet they won’t be expecting you to have him. If they know he’s in custody, they’ll panic. Tell Nadine Burton that the Georgia State Patrol picked up Wording—don't say why, though. If we're smart, we'll be able to make the woman think her brother has turned against her.”
“Brother?” Shelia asked. “Oh, yes, of course,” she exclaimed, “now I get it! Oh, Michelle honey, you're going to help me get a promotion!”
Michelle smiled. “You deserve it,” she said. “Call me when you get our two rats behind bars, okay? In the meantime, I have other calls to make.”
“You got it,” Shelia promised and hung up.
Michelle drew in a deep breath and stared down at her phone. For a moment, she contemplated sprinting across town to tell Momma Peach in person, but instead she risked calling the bakery, reasoning she could tell her quickly and hang up. “I can't talk long, Momma Peach. I just need to tell you what's happening on my end.”
Momma Peach listened to Michelle with ears wide open. “My, my, this isn't going to make J.W. Wording happy at all. But at least I understand why that monster has come for me after all these years. He's planning to open his blackmail operation again and start making hits to pocket more money and doesn't want Momma Peach to interfere,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “He's planning to reinvent the Manhattan Killer.”
Michelle chugged down her coffee. “It seems that way, doesn't it, Momma Peach,” she agreed.
Momma Peach rubbed her chin. “It sure does,” she replied. Momma Peach stood still for a few seconds. “He must be running low on money if he's trying to reopen his business,” she told Michelle. “The cost of fancy living must be taking its toll.”
Michelle tossed her coffee cup into the trash. They were running out of time. “Why didn't he just kill you, Momma Peach? Why play this game?”
“Oh,” Momma Peach explained, “a man has pride, yes sir and yes, ma’am. Mr. J.W. Wording wants to prove that he's smarter than me before he kills me...he needs to even the score, so to speak, while at the same time revealing exactly who he is...and how clever he is. He wants me to understand that the former Love Rich Wording is dead. That was a boy. Now he is a man who not only killed his father but took his father’s name, and the world must cower down before him. Sure, he killed people for money, but deep down, he's being eaten alive by rageful jealousy and a need for power and recognition. He wants fame and fortune. He wants to be known across the world. He doesn’t care if he has to murder to get there.”
“All hidden under a gentleman’s facade.”
“You better believe it,” Momma Peach told Michelle. She looked out at the thick fog. It seemed to have grown thicker since the last time she peeked outside. “This here fog isn't going away anytime soon.”
“Weather report isn't good,” Michelle told Momma Peach. “The fog is going to be around for a couple more days.”
Momma Peach nodded her head. “I can feel it in my bones. I know that white blanket of misery isn't leaving our town anytime soon.” Momma Peach kept her eyes on the fog. “J.W. Wording is going to be furious that his little business venture is getting closed down before he can even get it opened. The rules of the game will change. I don't know how yet, but you can bet your bottom dollar the new rules will be razor sharp.”
“I'm coming over to the bakery,” Michelle told Momma Peach. “It was stupid of me to leave you alone to begin with.”
“No,” Momma Peach warned Michelle, “stay where you are. I have to fight my monster alone. If he calls your office and you're not there, he'll go out and kill. I believe his threats. Even though you managed to take care of his nasty plans in California, he still has control in this fog.”
Michelle felt frustration grab her heart. “Momma Peach, I can't leave you alone. You said it yourself. Once Wording finds out that his sister is in custody, he's going to become furious and change the rules of the sick game he's playing. He may abandon the game altogether and kill you in revenge.”
Momma Peach bit down on her lip. “J.W. Wording is determined to show me just how smart he is...to prove he's more clever than I am. But now I have a card up my sleeve.”
“What are you talking about, Momma Peach?”
“Once again, I have tangled with a tiger, and with the help of my friends, I have come out unharmed. This truth, if delivered to J.W. Wording in just the right way, will explode in his gut like a sour cherry pie…it will cause the man to explode with fury, which might just give me the edge I need. I need him off-balance so as to set a trap for him to fall into. Now if I can just figure out how.” Momma Peach rubbed her chin. “You sit tight at the station and Momma Peach will sit tight at her bakery.”
Michelle walked over to the window in her office and yanked open the blinds. The heavy fog grinned at her. “Momma Peach, at least let me send a man over and sneak him inside.”
“J.W. could be watching my bakery,” Momma Peach warned Michelle. “We can't risk upsetting him before it's time.” Momma Peach stopped rubbing her chin. “But what you can do is call every business and have them close up, including the diner. Get everyone inside their homes before night falls. Make it seem like everyone is going home because of the fog. If J.W. is out and about, we don't want to make him suspicious.”
Michelle stared into the fog. “Momma Peach, a killer will find a way to kill no matter if a person is behind locked doors or standing out in the open.”
“Let's not make it easy on him,” Momma Peach told Michelle. “Also, we can't risk him leaving town and going after the folks we love. If J.W. escapes town...there's no telling what he might do. And you better believe he will go after Mr. Sam, Timmy, the girls...and then swing back around and finish us off when we least expect it. No, we have a card to play and if we play that card with skilled hands, we'll catch ourselves a killer. Now you do as Momma Peach says.”
“Okay, Momma Peach, I'll clear the streets.”
“Very carefully,” Momma Peach begged. “You have to make it seem like folks are going home because of the fog. Make sure folks make some loud chatter about having to go home because of the fog, too. Tell them it’s a public safety warning or somesuch, on account of the road visibility.”
“I'll have the mayor issue an order,” Michelle promised. “I'll also have some of my guys drive around town and announce on their car speakers the order the mayor will issue. That should help.”
“Perfect,” Momma Peach complimented Michelle. “You truly are the smartest cookie in the world.”
Michelle closed the blinds. “I just wish I were with you. After the awful dream I had...oh, Momma Peach, if anything ever happened to you, I would die inside.”
“Baby,” Momma Peach told Michelle in a loving voice, “this turkey isn't going to kill me. My days of fighting bad guys are far from over.”
Michelle felt a smile touch her lips. “I love fighting crime with you, Momma Peach. I love every case we work on together.”
“Well, Vermont wasn't too thrilling,” Momma Peach admitted. “And being chased by that bull sure didn't make Momma Peach feel like she won the lottery.”
“Yeah, Vermont was difficult,” Michelle explained. “But you know what, nearly being blown up in Sam's town sure cleared my sinuses.”
Momma Peach chuckled to herself. “I sure thought I was going to either be blown to the moon or end up floating in the ocean. And my oh my, I never want to climb down into a flooded cave ever again. Momma Peach likes warm, blue skies. Not being trapped in a cave with a crazy woman holding sticks of deadly dynamite.”
“We have been in some difficult situations,” Michelle laughed. “We’re lucky to have such wonderful people always around to help us. I wish Mr. Sam were here right now. Or even Old Joe...what a character. He nearly caused a fat trucker to squash me one time, do you remember?”
Momma Peach
laughed. “That man is a character...but you’re right, I wish Mr. Sam were still here, too.”
“If Sam were here, he'd be out in the fog trying to track down J.W. Wording right alongside us,” Michelle pointed out. She thought about Sam. “He's like a real father to me, Momma Peach. At times I almost want to call him...daddy, too. I can't bring myself to do it, but in my heart, the desire is there.”
“Mr. Sam is a good man...the best,” Momma Peach told Michelle and fought back a tear. “We better stop talking or Momma Peach is going to start crying.”
“Me, too.”
Momma Peach sighed. “Okay, let's get off the phone. Can’t risk talking any longer, I suppose. I will call you when I come up with a plan.”
“I'll get to work on my end,” Michelle told Momma Peach and then said: “I love you, Momma Peach.”
“I love you too,” Momma Peach told Michelle and hung up. “More than you will ever know,” she whispered and brushed away a single tear that fell down her cheek. “Now Momma Peach has to catch herself a monster.”
Outside, the fog hung like a still curtain across a dark stage, waiting for J.W. Wording to wake up from his nap and begin the final drama.
Chapter 8
J.W. woke to the sound of his cell phone. He stirred, opened his eyes, and struggled to focus. “This better be good,” he said and picked up his cell phone and checked the incoming call. “Nadine? She better have a good reason for waking me.” He hit the green button. “Yes, what is it?”
Nadine’s voice was frantic, and in the background he heard papers churning through a large shredder. “The FBI is in the lobby, Mr. Wording!” she barked. “They're here to arrest me.”
Alarm shot through J.W. He bolted up in the large bed, instantly awake. “Get rid of everything! Set fire to them if you have to.”
“I'm shredding them as fast as I can,” Nadine barked, struggling to hold the cell phone to her ear.
J.W. gritted his teeth. “Galloway. He betrayed us.”
“No, Mr. Wording. Mr. Galloway just called me a couple minutes ago because he saw the FBI in the lobby of the restaurant where he was eating. Someone outside of our ring must be responsible.” Nadine was barely audible over the sound of more papers being shoved into the shredder. A loud knock in the background announced a new arrival at the office door. A man ordered her to open the door. “The feds are outside my door, Mr. Wording. I have to go…I’ll erase your number from my cell phone. I’ll destroy the whole phone. Don’t worry, I’ll—” The phone went dead.
The sudden silence left J.W. fuming. He threw his cell phone down onto the bed and stood up. “Momma Peach!” he yelled. “I know it's you, Momma Peach. It can't be anyone but you!” J.W. squeezed his hands into two fists. “Once again I underestimated you! Don’t think you can get away with this, you meddling woman…”
J.W. snatched up his mobile phone and stormed out of the bedroom, heading down a long, carpeted hallway to the dim kitchen. He dialed Momma Peach and she picked up on the second ring. “It's not even midnight,” she said in an annoyed tone of voice. “I still need time.”
J.W. opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. He always woke up thirsty from a nap and needed to collect his thoughts before he exploded. “I'm checking to make sure you're still at the bakery,” he said, his anger boiling through him.
“Don't bark at me, sucker,” Momma Peach replied. “You gave me until midnight and it's just now a little past seven.”
“Stop playing games, woman!” J.W roared.
“Kiss my rear end, turkey!” Momma Peach roared back, “you’re the one playing games, here! Stop wasting my time. I am trying to play along and figure out who you wanted to kill! What more do you want from me?”
J.W. stood very still and tried to decide if Momma Peach was responsible for the FBI fiasco or not. It appeared that the woman was responsible, yet suddenly his mind retreated from the possibility. He had other enemies, and any one of them could have unleashed the FBI on his people; he could not risk saying anything more to Momma Peach lest she find out exactly how many secrets he was keeping. His sister did not even know her long-lost brother was her employer. As far as Nadine Murton knew, J.W. Wording was simply a deadly man not to be betrayed—she was unaware they were siblings, and that's exactly how J.W. wanted it to remain, for the time being.
“I want you to remember what is at stake, woman. Do not try to be clever. It will only get someone killed, do you understand? Do not test my patience. You have until midnight,” he said and ended the call. He tossed his cell phone down onto the kitchen counter. Suddenly he didn't feel clever or in control of the game anymore. Suddenly he realized that the game he designed was riddled with potential pitfalls and room for errors. Idiot child, he heard his mother saying in his head. His mother would have berated him for being over-confident, as usual. She never took him seriously; Meredith Wording always claimed to be the brains behind every operation, a claim that he resented with every fiber of his being. “So you think I was simply the instrument to carry out your plans, Mother,” J.W. whispered. “You were the brilliance behind every murder, and I was merely your sharpened knife. Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”
J.W. gulped down the cold orange juice and sat down at the kitchen table. “I was always more than you bargained for, Mother,” he said, smiling a small, secret smile. “My intention was to continue your legacy and resume your operations in California. However, now it appears that my plans have, as they say, gone up in smoke. But the best thing about a sharp knife is that it can be used for many, many tasks. And now I know that it was a mistake to think that Nadine could be in charge of anything,” J.W. sneered. He felt his blood heating up with resentment and felt the confidence coursing through him like a drug. “All I need to do is retrieve the list and then I can successfully carry on dear Mother’s legacy. But first, before I concern myself with that task, I am going to finish old business in this backwater village. I am going to kill Momma Peach.” J.W. wiped the orange juice off his mouth with the back of his hand and stood over the sink, thinking carefully. “There is obviously nothing I can do to change the events taking place in California. For now, I will continue the game and finish it.”
J.W. looked across the kitchen and checked a bronze clock hanging on the wall. “Until midnight, then. I will honor the rules,” he said. “As long as she continues to play by the rules, the rules will remain in place. But if I find out she was responsible for the FBI going after my people, make no mistake, Momma Peach, you will suffer greatly. You will long for the days when we were playing games. You will long for…death.”
Back at the bakery, Momma Peach called Michelle. “J.W. called me. The turkey seemed real grumpy but I don't think he's going to change the game...not yet, at least.”
“The FBI is picking up Nadine Murton and Martin Galloway as we speak,” Michelle informed Momma Peach. “It took longer than expected...a lot of red tape that my friend Shelia didn't expect to run into. It seems that Martin Galloway is a very powerful man and he proved somewhat slippery to apprehend.”
Momma Peach nodded her head. “The important thing is that the FBI is actually doing their job for once, instead of wasting taxpayers’ money.”
Michelle grinned and rolled her eyes. Momma Peach didn't like the federal government. “There's still a few good agents left in the FBI, Momma Peach. My friend Shelia is one of them.”
“A few is better than none,” Momma Peach replied. “Listen, we're in the clear until midnight. You just make sure no one calls J.W. until then. Can you do that?”
“I'll call Shelia and ask her to hold off allowing Nadine Murton and Martin Galloway to make any phone calls until after midnight.”
“Good,” Momma Peach said, “because I still don’t know how I’m gonna trap that monster. All we've accomplished so far is shutting down his money-making operation and making him angry.” Momma Peach shook her head. “The bee’s nest has been stirred with a stick, and unless we pour smok
e all over it real soon, we're gonna get stung all over.”
Michelle sat down behind her desk. “I called Detective MacNeigh's daughter and talked with her, Momma Peach. I was about to call you and tell you. I think you're going to be very interested in what she had to say.”
“I’m all ears.” Momma Peach leaned against the front counter and tried to focus as she stared out the front window. Night had fallen, and the fog caked the little town in darkness.
Michelle picked up a can of Mello Yello and took a drink. She had switched from coffee to soda for the time being, needing the sugar to keep her awake. “Detective MacNeigh left behind a journal, Momma Peach. In his journal, he documented all of his cases.”
Momma Peach fought back a yawn. “Did the fine Detective write about J.W. Wording, by chance?”
“According to Detective MacNeigh's daughter, the answer to your question is yes,” Michelle explained. “But Momma Peach, you’ll be in for a shock.”
“I am simply too tired to be shocked. Just lay it on me so we can kick around a few more ideas before this turkey goes and kills someone,” Momma Peach begged.
“Okay, here goes,” Michelle said. “Momma Peach, according to certain journal entries, Detective MacNeigh knew exactly who J.W. Wording Junior was and not only that, but the detective tried to blackmail him for money.” Michelle took another drink of her soda and continued. “Detective MacNeigh had a severe gambling problem and was in financial trouble in his later years, around the time that you would have met him. According to his journal, after you told him who the Manhattan Killer was, he cornered a Mr. Edward Potter and got him to talk. Well, this Potter fellow spilled the beans about the illegal organ transplant business taking place and confessed that J.W. Wording was blackmailing him for large sums of money. He begged for help from the detective, saying that he would give evidence in court against Mr. Wording if it would help bring him to justice. Well, it appears that Detective MacNeigh saw a way to end his financial crisis instead and tried to turn the tables on Mr. Potter. Instead of helping the man and using the information to capture the killer, he blackmailed Potter. The detective said if Potter didn’t give him the blackmail money, he would arrest him for buying a donor organ on the black market and claim to never have heard anything about who the killer was. Edward Potter was sufficiently scared that he paid off the detective for a long, long time.”
What a Peachy Night Page 12
