“The Sewing Circle” Chapter II

All those in favor, say I.” Five voices lifted in unanimous agreement. “Sadie, does the article give us any information that would be helpful” Martha May asked?

“The only things they reported, are that the assailants attacked their victims a few blocks away from the bank, pulled them into the alley, beat and robbed them .The description given is two men, brown skin, dark ski masks, dark jackets and ridiculous, sagging, bagging jeans,” I said.

As usual, Abigail and Beatrice yelled, “Castrate them.”

“Ladies, at sixty-seven years old, isn’t it about time you cease with the ‘cutting off of body parts’ tirade?”

“Why on earth would we quit. One of these days, Sadie, you may just let us have a little farm justice. God knows these scumbags need it,” Beatrice answered”

“What is ‘farm justice,’ really?” Gertrude asked.

Abigail grinned and answered before her sister could. “In a nutshell, it means, if it is useless, kill it or cut it off.”

“Oh goodness Abigail, that’s disgusting. Now, let’s decide how we are going to LAWFULLY handle this mess.” Martha May said in her sternest voice.

“Lawful, Martha May you know darn good and well what we do is not lawful. Actually, we could all go to jail for what we are doing. Those idiotic courts with their sense of ‘money overrides decency’ attitudes are ninety-five percent at fault for the elevated crime rate. It is a sad day when money rules and murders walk cause money rules. I tell you th-”

“We get it Abigail, you are preaching to the choir now,” I said laughing.

“What we need to be doing, is figuring out what we must do next,” Beatrice said.

“Well according to the news paper reports, the criminals are attacking the elderly who are drawing SSI, or pension checks. What I want to know, is  how would they know who received that type of money. What do you think Sadie,” Gertrude asked me.

“I have been thinking about it and I believe that if the criminals do not know their victims, then it must be the clothing and the demeanor of each one they rob, is what draws them to their next mark.”

“Ladies, I agree with Sadie. We need to decide which of us looks like a good mark, and then we need to go shopping at a used clothing store,” Beatrice remarked.

“The first of the month is when they send the checks out, and by the fifth of the month, most everyone has cashed their checks. According to this newspaper, it is between these days of the month the robberies and attacks occurred,” I told them.

“Today is the twenty-seventh of April. This means we have only three days in which we must reconnoiter the area and put a foolproof plan in order. We do not want to get caught with our stockings down, so to speak, ladies.”

“Humph,” remarked Martha May, “I do not want to ever be surprised by criminal or the police, stockings or no stockings. We have to have our police timing down pat. I cannot believe they have stepped up their patrols for a few elderly people. The city takes money, they are not about to pay out extra money to the police department, just for a few old folks, now are they?”

“Now that is the truth. With the low money our police and firefighters earn, I do not see why they continue working for the city. I
suppose it is a sense of right and wrong that keeps them in place. Enough of that, I think we should start making plans now,” Abigail said.

“We would make plans if some people would climb down off their soap box,” Beatrice snorted out in a stage whisper.

Everyone was laughing as we made plans and then proceeded to set them into action.

Martha May and Gertrude were voted as the two best, weak old women candidates in our group. They both agreed they could ‘act’ the part better than anyone else could.

After three days of reconnoitering the area and shopping, our plan was in place.

Four forty-five pm, on the third day of April, two feeble old women emerged from the bank counting and slowly putting their money in their purses as they walked down the street. Two men in dark jackets and baggy jeans darted into the alley when they saw Martha May and Gertrude walking towards them.

I knew this was it; the thieves were getting into place, it was happening at this moment and we were ready for them.

I pushed speed dial on my phone. Simultaneously all four cell phones vibrated. It was time.

Abigail, Beatrice and I, quickly slipped into the alley and silently but rapidly, came up behind the two men. We were less than a
block away when they grabbed Martha May and Gertrude, then brusquely yanked them into the alley.

“Shut up and give us the cash, NOW.” The larger of the two hissed.

As we came up closer behind them, I motioned to Abigail to do something to get their attention, since she was the only one who
was not covering the criminals with a weapon.

Abigail started chucking pebbles at the men. They turned to see three women, dressed in black and wearing ski masks. Two of which were holding guns. When they turned to grab Martha May and Gertrude as shields, they saw Martha May’s razor sharp sword aimed at their heads and Gertrude’s ironwood walking stick was held as if to bat a home run.

“Give me your car keys, empty your pockets and lay face down, NOW,” I said. They did, and we grinned.

The hunters were now the prey. I wondered if they even realized the pain and fear, they had caused others. I would never know, but I saw the fear on their faces and because of their cruelty to the elderly, it did not bother me one bit.

Abigail set to work with her trusty duct tape, scissors and red spray paint. This was the part that Abigail loved the most. She always became creative while trussing up the criminals. At five-ten pm, I made two phone calls and we waited, until we heard the sirens.

The next morning in our sewing circle, I read the news story aloud. “Caught Red Handed” “Two men, hogtied, with their hands painted red and with stolen wallets strewn on the ground all around them. Two local men were arrested after an anonymous caller

”Now that we have that sewn up, we have the hate crimes article to decide on. All those in favor, say I.”

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s