A Peachy Criminals, page 13
Michelle glanced up the street and froze. She saw Agent Green running toward Momma Peach. Then she saw Momma Peach whack Agent Green in the head with her pocketbook. Agent Green stumbled backward and began reaching for his gun. “No!” Michelle cried out. But before Agent Green could reach his gun, Able appeared out of nowhere and dived at Agent Green and, amazingly, managed to tackle the man down onto the street. “Cannonball!” Momma Peach yelled and jumped onto Agent Green before he could stand up.
“Fight me!” Agent Brown screamed at Michelle. “Or I’ll go help my friend take care of your pathetic sidekicks!”
Michelle looked back at Agent Brown, narrowed her eyes, and nodded her head. It was time to fight. Slowly, she began to move in a circle. Agent Brown mirrored every move Michelle made. “Die!” he yelled, and executed a deadly roundhouse kick that would have knocked the strongest man alive unconscious. Michelle exploded upward from her fighting stance and into a front kick that caught Agent Brown in his chest while he was mid-air. Agent Brown flew backward and crashed down onto the street, clutching his ribs. Michelle backed away and waited.
Agent Brown slowly crawled to his feet. “Get him, baby!” he heard Momma Peach yell. He looked over to see that Momma Peach was holding onto Agent Green's legs while the nerdy young man was hanging onto the agent’s waist. He saw the man lift Agent Green's jacket and bite into bare skin. Agent Green cried out in pain.
“You're dead—” Agent Brown began to threaten Michelle but stopped when he heard the sound of approaching sirens. He cast his eyes around at his gun, looked back at Michelle, and then made a mad dash toward the wet lawn the gun was resting on. Michelle threw her body into the air and kicked Agent Brown square in the back. Agent Brown was thrown forward. He crashed down onto the street heavily, belly first. He lay still for merely a moment. Unable to contain his fury, forgetting all about the approaching police, he jumped to his feet, spinning around as he prepared to attack Michelle once again.
Michelle was waiting for him. “Don’t move an inch” she warned Agent Brown, and aimed his own gun straight at his face. She was wet, hungry, angry, and her hair was dripping with rain water, but she was alive. “Get your hands in the air.”
“Get him, Ms. Johnson!” Able yelled.
Michelle darted a glance up the street. Able was holding down Agent Green's legs. Michelle watched Momma Peach do a belly flop onto Agent Green's stomach. For a second, she actually felt sorry for Agent Green.
“You're going to have to kill me, cop,” Agent Brown told Michelle and began walking toward her. “You ain't got the guts!”
Michelle looked into the dark eyes of a vicious killer—a man with no soul or conscience. “Don't make me use deadly force!”
“You ain't got the guts!” Agent Brown repeated in a yell and lunged at Michelle. Michelle fired a single bullet. The bullet ended the life of a serial murderer.
All was silence on the street for a moment, though in the distance the sirens got louder. Michelle took a steadying breath.
“I got the other gun, honey!” Momma Peach yelled.
Michelle looked up the street and saw Momma Peach toss Agent Green's gun onto a wet lawn. She ran over and aimed the gun in her hand at Agent Green just as the man managed to wrestle Momma Peach off his stomach. Able, bless his heart, was still holding on for dear life. “Don't move,” Michelle warned Agent Green. “Your friend is dead. You're next if you move an inch.”
Agent Green looked up into Michelle's eyes and darted a look down the silent, wet street. He knew that the woman was telling him the absolute truth. “You...killed...Jack?” he asked.
“He's dead and you will be too, if you don't tell me where Agent Davison took Mr. Ingles,” Michelle threatened Agent Green. “Able, dear, you can let go of his legs.”
Momma Peach crawled to her feet, ran to Able, and enveloped the man into her arms. “Our knight in shining armor...oh, honey….you saved us again!” she yelled in joy and smothered Able with kisses. “Oh, my sweet baby...you're my hero, oh yes you are!” Poor Able held on for dear life and tried to breathe.
“Where is Mr. Ingles?” Michelle demanded again of Agent Green.
“Who knows?” Agent Green snapped. “Jack and me, we had had enough of him. We told that traitor to take a hike.”
“My sweet hero, oh, yes you are!” Momma Peach continued to smother Able with love, oblivious.
Michelle stared down into Agent Green’s eyes. The man was speaking the truth. “Get to your feet.”
Agent Green sneered at Michelle and slowly climbed to his feet. “I'm cool, cop,” he said as he rose to one knee. But his face was filled with murderous rage. And then, with one quick move, he pulled out the knife hidden in his pocket and lunged toward Michelle. Michelle fired one last shot and put Agent Green to sleep for life.
Momma Peach stopped hugging Able. Able stared at Michelle and then looked down at Agent Green. “You...shot him?” he asked in disbelief.
“I had to,” Michelle answered, expecting the worst. She supposed now Able would see her as a cruel-hearted cop, not the noble detective he once thought.
But instead, Able began clapping his hands together. “What are you doing?” Michelle asked, confused.
“I'm proud to see that the woman I've fallen in love with knows her stuff,” Able said, smiling at Michelle.
“In love...with me?” Michelle looked at him in amazement. “We just met…”
“Oh...yeah,” Able said and stopped clapping. “I...oh, boy, you must think I'm a weirdo or something. I'll go now.”
Able began to walk away. Momma Peach gave Michelle a stern look. Michelle threw her hands up into the air in confusion and then ran over to Able to stop him from leaving. When he turned around in surprise, she grabbed him and gently kissed him.
“Love can take a lifetime, or mere seconds...a wise woman told me that,” she whispered in Able's ear and placed her head down on his shoulder. And for the first time in her life, Michelle felt like she had come home. And as Able wrapped his shaky arms around Michelle, he felt like he had come home, too.
Momma Peach nearly began to cry. She wrapped her arms around Michelle and Able and hugged them fiercely as three police cars raced onto the street.
As Momma Peach hugged Michelle and Able, Agent Davison was busy kicking in the back door to an abandoned garage. “Inside,” he ordered Old Joe.
Old Joe stepped through the door and into a dark room that smelled of grease and old cigarette smoke. He spotted an empty five-gallon bucket, turned it over, and sat down. “I ain't no harm to you. I will keep my mouth shut.”
Agent Davison kept the door cracked in order to allow daylight into the room. He looked around and saw weeds growing up through a cracked concrete floor stained with grease. A few tools were scattered about, worthless and rusted beyond repair. A broken glass-paned door on the opposite wall of the room opened up into a small front room that held only the reek of mildew and more cigarette butts. For the time being, they were well hidden. “Shut your mouth.”
“Don't kill me,” Old Joe begged Agent Davison. “Look, what am I, huh? I'm just an old con man. Who'd believe anything I say, huh?”
“You said it yourself: you're a con man,” Agent Davison replied and pointed his gun at Old Joe's chest. “I'm not going to kill you,” he promised. “I'm going to do worse than kill you. You're going to be the man who goes to prison for killing Senator Rarey's son. I was going to kill you and frame Caroline Johnson for your murder, but my men have abandoned me and forced me to change plans.”
“Frame me…?” Old Joe asked confused. The thought of prison was worse than death. Old Joe couldn't imagine being caged up behind bars, having his freedom snatched away from him. “Send me off to prison?”
“Yes,” Agent Davison said. He kept his gun aimed at Old Joe's chest. “Perhaps the original plan has fallen through, but I'm a man who understands how to manipulate any situation. I see now that it was foolish to hire two worthless killers. My plan was to kill them off in the end, but it appears that they had more sense than I gave them credit for. No matter, I'm still in control.” Agent Davison lowered his gun. “Mr. Ingles, desperate situations call for desperate actions. Do you agree?”
“I reckon,” Old Joe said in a shaky voice.
“Then let’s you and I make a deal,” Agent Davison suggested in a clever tone. “I need Senator Rarey to change his mind about supporting the new medical bill. And I need Senator Hilltop to support my financial retirement. I need to end this game. However, there appear to be a few knots that need to be untangled first.”
“Like what?”
“Before we can make the death of Senator Rarey’s son public, we need the killer. As I mentioned, I was going to frame the two men I hired, but that fell through. In this game, Mr. Ingles, you take what cards you're dealt and play what you can. I received two dummy cards that forced my hand down.”
“Life is full of dummy cards,” Old Joe told Agent Davison, stalling for time. He listened to the rain falling outside. He wanted to try and con Agent Davison but bit down on his lip instead. “I ain't going to prison….you're going to have to kill me first.”
Agent Davison shook his head. “You're going to prison, Mr. Ingles. You see, I have the power to alter your criminal record and turn you into a hired assassin.”
“Me?” Old Joe laughed. “Ain't nobody in their right mind going to believe this old man is a killer.”
“The same applies to me, Mr. Ingles. But I assure you, I am deadlier now than I was when I was much, much younger.”
Old Joe stared at Agent Davison. “What kind of deal you want to make with me?”
Agent Davison walked to the back door and glanced out at an overgrown back lot piled with rotted wooden pallets. “You agree to confess to the murder and say you were hired by an anonymous Republican, and afterward, after you've sat in prison for a few months, I'll arrange for you to be transferred. During the transfer, I'll arrange for your escape. You'll be flown out of the country and given a nice nest egg.”
Old Joe knew Agent Davison was conning him. He decided to play along. Why not? He needed to buy some time. “Keep talking.”
Agent Davison grinned. He had Old Joe just where he wanted him—or so he thought. Agent Davison wasn't as clever as he believed. “If you let me help you, Mr. Ingles, I can finish this in a way that will benefit the both of us. But…I want no games.” Agent Davison turned and fired a single bullet. The bullet struck the concrete next to Old Joe's right foot, ricocheting in a cloud of dust and echoing in the damp room. “And I mean no games.”
Old Joe nearly jumped out of his skin. “Hey man, what are you doing? Are you insane? I ain't doing nothing to you.”
“No games,” Agent Davison warned Old Joe again. Old Joe swallowed. Forget trying to pull off the biggest con in history. He was more concerned with preserving his life. “Okay, okay, no games. I'm cool. Talk to me, lay down some cards for us to look at. I’m cool. We can make a deal.”
Agent Davison nodded his head. “Here's the deal, Mr. Ingles. I'm going to call Senator Hilltop and have him send a car for us. But first, we have one last loose end in this town…you need to go back and kill Ms. Johnson.”
Old Joe listened to Agent Davison talk. As he did, he began forming a plan of his own.
Chapter Nine
Momma Peach walked Able into her bakery and pointed to all of her delicious baked goods. “Honey,” she said, wiping rain water off her pink headwrap, “you pick out anything your little tummy wants,” she said in a loving voice. “Oh, I just can’t thank my hero enough. You’re a real man! Yes, sir and yes ma’am. And Mr. Sam is going to have a fit over you, too!”
Able blushed. He sure liked Momma Peach and knew that in time the woman was going to become very dear in his heart. “Do you think Michelle will be along shortly?” he asked Momma Peach in a nervous voice.
“Sure, sure, honey,” Momma Peach beamed. She glanced down at Able's hurt leg. “Baby, is your leg hurting badly?”
Able tried to act tough but the truth was his leg felt like it was on fire. “Kinda.”
Momma Peach hurried into the kitchen and returned with a chair and an ice pack. “Sit down, baby, and let's talk. Momma Peach has some questions she wants to ask you.”
Able gratefully sat down. “Ms. Johnson, I—”
“First,” Momma Peach informed Able with a warm smile, “my name is Momma Peach, not Ms. Johnson. Okay, honey?”
“Momma Peach?”
“Momma Peach,” Momma Peach smiled again. “Now that we got Momma Peach's name right, let Momma Peach ask you a question.”
Able rubbed his injured leg. He was soaked from head to toe but that didn't matter much. After the ordeal in the street, he was considered a hero and that meant the world to him. Of course, deep down, he had been scared to death while fighting with Agent Green. What in the world made him attack a mean killer? He never attacked anyone before. But when he saw Momma Peach in trouble, well, a man had to do what a man had to do. And at least, Able thought to himself, he had enough guts to do the right thing when the situation called for action. Still, he wasn't any hero and felt a little silly being treated as one by Momma Peach. “Momma Peach, I appreciate the way you're treating me, but honestly, I was really scared when I jumped on that man. I saw you in trouble and acted, that's all.”
Momma Peach patted Able's hand. “Honey, those are the best kind of heroes.”
Able looked up into Momma Peach's loving eyes. He smiled. “You wanted to ask me a question?”
Momma Peach nodded her head as she skillfully applied the ice pack to his leg. “Momma Peach wants to know if you have ever been married before, if you have children, and what your plans are?”
Able sat up a little straighter, surprised. “Uh...never been married...scared to death of kids...and my plans, according to my mother, are to settle down in this town and find work...even though my mother is insisting that I shouldn't worry about money. But,” Able sighed, “I've always liked providing for myself, Momma Peach. I don't like bumming off my mother. A man, well, he has to make his own way in life...an honest way.”
Momma Peach nearly burst out crying with pride. What a difference it was speaking to an honest, decent man. Able was refreshing and clean-hearted—Old Joe’s games were dirty and grimy and she wished the young man could teach the older man a thing or two. “So, Mr. Able isn't planning on leaving town anytime soon?”
“Where would I go?” Able asked. “Momma Peach, I lived in Philadelphia most of my adult life, sleeping in a crummy apartment and working a crummy job,” Able explained. “I...didn't have many friends...none, to be honest. I thought, well, living in a big city and surviving on my own would show the world that I wasn't...a loser. The truth of the matter was...I was making it, but just barely. The cost of living in a big city is really high...and,” Able sighed again, “I was really lonely, too.”
Momma Peach felt a tear drop from her eye. She placed her hand on Able's shoulder and spoke in a soft voice. “Able, you'll never be lonely again. I promise. You have your momma, but we are your family now, too.”
Able looked up into Momma Peach's caring eyes. He saw a love and warmth that only his own mother possessed. “You're very kind.”
“I love your soul and I know that you are going to fit in just fine in our town,” Momma Peach replied lovingly, beaming. “Now let me ask just one more little bitty question.”
“Okay.”
“My precious, precious Michelle has a very delicate heart. I want to know what you feel toward her,” Momma Peach asked. “I am very, very, very protective over Michelle, Mr. Able.”
Able drew in a deep breath. “I'm just shocked that a woman as beautiful as Michelle even...well, kissed me. I'm just...a nerd, Momma Peach.” Able rolled his eyes good naturedly and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I was sent to a private school growing up, with all the rich kids, but all the kids teased and bullied me. Oh, I tried not to mind having my glasses stolen or my books glued shut...kids will be kids. But I did mind the girls always pointing at me and laughing. They made me feel...less. But Michelle…today she made me feel...more. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly,” Momma Peach wiped at another tear. “Baby, you said the right words.” Momma Peach leaned down and kissed Able on his cheek. “By the time the newspaper in our town gets through with you, all the women are going to see you as the hero you are and will never point or laugh at you. You can be sure of that.”
Able started to ask what Momma Peach meant when Michelle walked through the front door of the bakery, soaking wet. Her face was worried. “No sign of Agent Davison or Old Joe anywhere,” she said and closed the front door. “The Georgia state police are patrolling the area and our fair Sheriff is setting up roadblocks around the county. My guess is that Agent Davison is hiding somewhere close by. There's no report of stolen cars and I checked with the bus station. No one has purchased any tickets within the last two days.” Michelle looked at Able. She smiled. “How are you feeling?”
Able stood up from his chair, his heart beating fast. “I’ll be fine—but how are you?” he asked Michelle, concerned. “You're soaking wet. Please, sit down. Can I get you a towel? A glass of water?”
“I'm okay,” Michelle answered in a soft voice. It felt wonderful having a caring man worry over her. “But I will sit down,” she admitted and walked over to Able's chair and sat down. “I admit I am a little tired.”
Momma Peach began rubbing Michelle's shoulders. “Honey,” she said, “if I know Old Joe, he ain't' gonna go down without a fight. Not with his hands of course, but with his mouth.” Momma Peach winked at Able. “I have been doing some more thinking and have concluded that if the two bad guys you killed turned on Agent Davison, that means Agent Davison was put in a bad spot. He might have to change his mind about a whole lot of things…maybe even try and cut a new deal with Old Joe.”
