Peter apologized and the women moved on with their loud motorcycles. They had plans to take Claire to The Drinking Hole. This was the actual name of a pub where they sometimes ended their days after a successful ride.
Before they could get there, the sheriff’s motorcade cut them off. Three patrol SUVs. Two deputy trucks. One K-9 unit. Flashing lights and radios crackling.
Claire’s jaw dropped to the ground. This was a little too much deployment to stop a group of old women who ran around town acting like vigilantes!
"Girls, are you ready?" Beryl asked.
The old women shouted yes, and Claire shouted no. The old women cheered.
The sheriff blinked.
Then, the motorcycles surged forward at an alarming speed. Not over the limit, but still worrying, considering that the riders were a combined age of close to 700. The old women were having the time of their lives, but Claire was certain she was about to have morning or evening sickness. She was also hoping that they would not sleep in a police cell tonight.
The motorcade accelerated after them.
"Ladies, come on." The sheriff warned. "Stop. This is not funny."
"You’ll never take us alive!" Wilder screamed.
Claire almost choked. She wanted to be taken alive! "Oh my God!" she muttered.
The sheriff nearly choked too. "Wilder, don’t be ridiculous."
Wilder accelerated. "Claire, they are lucky that I have to think about your safety or else, we would be flying by now."
Claire tightened her arms around Wilder’s waist. "Grandma, maybe just stop. I have never run from the police before."
Wilder laughed. "Everybody needs a hobby, dear."
"I DON’T WANT THIS HOBBY!" Claire screamed.
The chase continued for three glorious blocks. Citizens cheered or cursed. Kids clapped and pointed. Some town folks followed the race in their cars, behind the motorcade.
Then fate intervened in the form of a red light.
All the women were forced to stop, which surprised Claire. She truly expected the old women to just keep going without any regard for the law.
Behind them, the entire motorcade screeched to a halt. Doors burst open. Deputies poured out. The K-9 unit arrived eagerly. Two dogs barked enthusiastically. Cops shouted.
The sheriff emerged dramatically. "Off the bikes and hands up!"
Immediately, all the women did as ordered. Claire raised her hands so fast she nearly dislocated both shoulders. Unlike the old women, she was not laughing.
The deputies surrounded the bikes. The search dogs sniffed every tire.
"What are they looking for?" Claire whispered to her grandmother. It didn’t seem like they had been stopped randomly.
A deputy started searching their bags. Then he froze.
"Sheriff...." He carefully lifted a clear plastic package filled with suspicious white crystals.
Claire gasped.
Her soul left her body. "Oh no."
The sheriff narrowed his eyes. "Oh no indeed."
The old women exchanged looks. Then, Beryl lowered her hands. "If anyone asks, we are not snitching."
The others nodded.
"Never."
"Ride together, die together."
"Knitting gang for life."
Claire shrieked. "STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT!"
The sheriff slowly opened the package. The deputies held their breath. The dogs stared.
Claire considered her life in prison as a pregnant woman. She wondered why she had not moved to another country instead of Briarshore.
The sheriff pinched a crystal. He examined it closely, then tasted it.
Everyone stared.
The sheriff blinked, chewed, blinked and finally sighed. "It’s rock sugar."
Silence came after his declaration. That silence was followed by more silence.
Then Beryl laughed. Doris laughed. All the old women started laughing. Soon, the sheriff’s men joined in. One officer was even doubled over.
Claire nearly collapsed with relief. "Rock sugar?"
Wilder nodded proudly. "For our tea club. We are all members of the Briarshore oldies tea club."
Beryl sniggered. "We found a new rock sugar source that supplies in bulk. This was the sample. I was supposed to deliver it to the club tonight."
The sheriff rubbed his forehead. "You met a shady young man at the docks yesterday and gave him a wad of cash. You exchanged a white crystal package with him today while acting suspicious. You led half my department on a pursuit for rock sugar!"
Beryl grinned. "To be fair, you looked thrilled. You and your men have not had a major case for six years. I was testing your sharpness."
"Can we leave now?" Claire asked.
The sheriff’s deputies backed away. The women climbed onto their motorcycles again. As they prepared to leave, Beryl shouted loudly, "Better luck next time, sheriff!"
Doris added. "We will make it more thrilling!"
"Perhaps we will be going eighty miles an hour!" Martel threatened.
"With walkers!" Mabel hooted.
The women erupted into cackling laughter. Their motorcycles drove away at a safe speed.
The sheriff watched them disappear.
A deputy walked over. "Should we continue keeping an eye on them? They are always pranking us. Besides, they are harmless old women."
The sheriff stared into space. "Harmless? Son, if those women decide to become criminals, we are all retiring."
Wilder dropped Claire off at the house and rode back to join her friends for evening tea. Claire stumbled into her house with shaky legs. She didn’t make it to her bedroom, but walked straight into Apollo’s room.
He was lying on the bed, head on a pillow, watching a movie on a laptop while eating potato crisps.
"They are insane!" Claire whispered.
Apollo rose, hurried to her side and made her sit down on the bed. He knew something was not right if Claire was inside his bedroom voluntarily. More than that, she was not making fun of him for the cartoonish shorts he was wearing!
He rushed out of the room and brought her some drinking water. "Are you okay?"
She shook her head, and slowly recounted the encounter with the sheriff. It sent him into a fit of laughter.
"I have heard about the Knitting gang," he wheezed. "Their notoriety extends beyond the town. Mabel Twine is a great lawyer. Her first husband died and left her a thriving law practice. She went on to marry three other rich men, earning a generous pay out with each divorce. That money grew her law firm to three times bigger than what her husband left her. Whatever legal trouble they get in, she can get them out. And Eleanor Pembrooke’s husband is a former Chief Judge. They..."
"Who is Eleanor?" Claire cut in.
Apollo scratched the bridge of his nose, "White snake. She is the daughter of a mob boss who testified against her father and married the golden boy who came from a family of lawyers and judges and one former Secretary of treasury. Their love story is still famous to date. Her connections make the Knitting gang untouchable. As long as they don’t commit any major crimes, the sheriff is happy to look the other way. Their leader, Beryl, she used to work in intelligence, but only a few people know this. None of those old women is ordinary, not even your grandmother."
Claire gulped down the water in the glass with greed. The shocks just kept coming. So, Beryl was a spy! "I got like ten heart attacks today and I can feel another one coming. I am never riding with those crazy old women again."
It would take a life or death situation to get her through the doors of the knitting gang. Even her trip to Driswen had not been as frightening as today!