Free Hit & Mrs. by Lesley Crewe

enough for her to see their weapons.
    â€œGet in the goddamn car now,” she bawled out her open window as the engine roared to life. Bette dove into the front seat. Gemma was a little too slow for Augusta’s liking; as Gemma tried to climb in the back, Augusta placed her foot on Gemma’s ample backside, shoved her in, and then jumped on top of her.
    Linda took off with the back door still swinging open, tires squealing. Two pairs of legs hung out over the side.
    â€œHurry, Linda,” Bette shouted.
    The car wove from side to side as it zoomed down the street and into the night.
    The stickball players couldn’t believe their eyes. Four crazy ladies jumped in a car and took off before they had a chance to help change their flat tire.
    The catcher spied the body first. “Holy shit. There’s a dead guy over here.”
    â€œAre you sure he’s dead?”
    The catcher felt for a pulse and nodded.
    The second baseman pulled out his cellphone to call the police.
    The pitcher stopped him. “Wait. What if the police think we did it?”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œDo you want to take that chance? The guy’s dead. There’s nothing we can do for him now.”
    â€œYeah, but…”
    â€œWe’re black and the victim’s white. Need I say more?”
    They took off like scalded cats.

CHAPTER FIVE
    â€œCan you see them anymore?” Linda kept her eyes glued to the unfamiliar road.
    Gemma glanced out the back window. “No. They’re gone. We’re okay.”
    â€œWe’re not okay,” Augusta said. “I’m sitting on a gun. What do I do?”
    â€œDon’t touch it,” they yelled at her.
    â€œBut it might go off. Can’t I throw it out the window?”
    â€œNo,” Gemma said. “Your fingerprints will be on it. And what if a kid picked it up?”
    â€œYou’re right.” Augusta scooted over and practically sat in Gemma’s lap to get away from it, as if it were a huge black bug.
    â€œI have to stop for a minute.” Linda pulled over and dropped her forehead onto her knuckles as her hands gripped the steering wheel. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    Bette reached over and massaged her neck. “You’re all right, Lin. Good job back there. I’d still be running if it wasn’t for you.”
    â€œWhere are we?” Augusta asked.
    Linda raised her head. “I have no idea.” She looked around. “There’s a sign, but I can’t read it.”
    â€œJust a sec,” Bette said. “Pass me my purse, Gem. I need my glasses.”
    Gemma reached down and passed it over. Bette zipped it open, fumbled around inside, and took out a teddy bear.
    â€œWhat the…”
    Linda frowned. “What’s that?”
    â€œOMIGOD.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s the wrong bag. It’s the mother’s bag. She has my bag. I had six hundred dollars in that bag. What should I do?”
    â€œStop saying bag ,” Linda said. “Calm down. Let’s think.”
    Bette shook the bear. “What a goddamn night this has turned out to be. I can never go home now. Ida will run me over when she finds out about the money…”
    Augusta interrupted her. “Look inside and see if her name is in there somewhere. I’m sure she’ll get in touch with you. What mother wouldn’t be frantic at the thought of her child’s missing toy?”
    â€œA young girl who looks like she could use six hundred bucks,” Bette said. “Oh God, my glasses, my driver’s license, my health card, and my money are all gone. Not to mention my airline ticket and passport.”
    No one said anything. It was too much.
    Bette remembered something and patted down her coat. “I have my cellphone, at least.”
    Augusta squinted at the sign. “The only name I recognize is Harlem. Isn’t this a bad neighbourhood?”
    â€œAccording to