Free Hit & Mrs. by Lesley Crewe Page A

the Lonely Planet, it’s as safe as any part of New York,” Linda said.
    â€œWell, that’s cold comfort,” Gemma said. “We were accosted by a criminal ten seconds after we stepped outside the airport.”
    Linda finally shut off the engine. “We need to call the police. I’m tired of dealing with this alone.” She reached once more for her cell.
    â€œWait,” Gemma said. “You can’t call. They’ll want to know where we are and we don’t have a clue. How will they get to us?”
    Linda hesitated. “You’re right.” She looked around and pointed down the street. “That looks like a corner store at the end of the block. We’ll ask what the address is and use their phone.”
    â€œWait,” Gemma said.
    â€œNow what?”
    â€œWe can’t leave the gun here. What if someone takes it? It’s evidence.”
    â€œWell, we can’t take it. What do we know about guns?” Augusta said. “We’ll shoot ourselves in the foot or worse.”
    â€œIf we’re calling the police we should leave it here. We’ll lock the car doors,” said Bette.
    â€œWhat if someone breaks into the car?” Gemma asked.
    â€œWhat if, what if,” Linda said. “We can’t worry about every blessed thing.”
    â€œYou can’t leave a gun lying around,” Gemma insisted. “It’s not safe.”
    Linda turned around to face the back seat. “Fine. Take the gun and put it in your purse.”
    â€œBut what about the fingerprints?”
    â€œThe police always pick it up with a pencil or a pen so the fingerprints don’t smudge,” Bette said.
    â€œOkay.” Gemma rooted through her purse and found a pen. “Crouch down, girls, just in case.”
    They hunkered down. Gemma gingerly lifted the gun and slowly placed it in her purse. By the time she closed it, she was in a lather of sweat. “Okay. It’s done.”
    They sat up.
    â€œGood job, Gemma.” Augusta patted her friend on the back.
    â€œLet’s go,” Linda said.
    They got out of the car, took their suitcases from the trunk, and hobbled down the sidewalk, all of them staying close to each other as if that would make them safe. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when they were inside the store. It was small, crowded, and dingy. The man behind the counter didn’t look particularly friendly. Linda approached him first.
    â€œExcuse me. May we use your phone?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œ No ?”
    â€œYou heard me. There’s a perfectly good payphone in the back. Use that.”
    â€œFine. What’s your address?”
    Before he could answer, two men in hoodies came through the front door and approached the counter. The owner got up off his stool. “I got customers, lady.”
    Linda scowled and marched back to her friends, who stood around the coolers at the back of the store deciding what they wanted to drink.
    â€œDo you want something?” Bette said. “We’re dying of thirst.”
    â€œI’ll have some water.”
    â€œSo what’s the address?” Augusta asked her.
    â€œHe wouldn’t tell me.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHe’s busy. I’m going to have to go outside and look for a street sign. And he wants us to use that payphone.” She pointed at the disgustingly dirty phone.
    Bette passed Linda a bottle. “Do you want me to come with you?”
    â€œYeah, okay.” Linda opened the bottle and took a quick swig before passing the bottle to Gemma. “Get the police on the phone. We’ll be right back.”
    Linda and Bette started up the aisle, but they heard raised voices and a long string of cursing. Bette pulled Linda aside.
    â€œDo you hear that?”
    Linda nodded. They listened to the increasingly loud argument with growing alarm. They looked over and saw the other two beckon them to return, so they