“Let’s take a picture for the website!” Penelope grabbed up her phone in the nick of time. She heard an indignant huff and felt angry breath on the back of her neck. Penelope’s hands shook a bit as she tried to hold the camera steady to take pictures of the sweater and Maddie’s proud, smiling face. She heard footsteps behind her, moving away. She let out a trembling sigh of relief as the bells over the shop door jangled.
“Are you okay?” Cheryl asked. “You’re white as a sheet!”
Penelope forced a rueful smile. “Just startled. Sorry about the noise.”
“Those sure are big needles,” Danielle commented. “What will you make with them?”
“Something big,” Maddie quipped.
“A big difference, I hope,” Penelope said under her breath as her students chuckled at Maddie’s banter.
At the end of class Penelope took pictures of each of her students holding up her project. Then she tucked her phone into her purse and looked forward to reading about the capture of the counterfeiters in the local newspaper soon. It would be fun to listen to Bill harrumphing over the article, never dreaming his wife had helped to catch the criminals.
“Don’t forget to send me those pictures for the website,” Gwen reminded Penelope as they parted ways on the sidewalk.
“Will do!” Penelope promised, feeling the warm glow of a job well done, both as a teacher and a crimefighter.
A chilly breeze swept fallen leaves across the sidewalk as Penelope entered the shadow of the jail. She walked a little faster through the gloom. She was almost to her car when she heard the sound of running feet behind her and felt a jerk on her purse strap that nearly knocked her over. She managed, however, to keep her balance and a firm hold on her purse strap.
“Lady, let go,” the purse snatcher growled.
Penelope knew she ought to be scared, but at that moment, she was seeing-red mad.
“I will not let go! My daughter gave me this purse for Mother’s Day!”
The mugger yanked harder, grunting with the effort of the tug-o-war. Penelope yanked back, harder still.
“You can have your purse,” the man grunted. “Just gimme your phone, lady!”
“No!” Penelope yelled. Enough was enough. “You are not getting all my pictures of Baby Robbie!”
“Will you people shut up? You want the cops to come swarming out of that jail?” a voice hissed from the shadows.
Penelope turned her head to see a man in an orange jumpsuit flattened against the side of the building.
The mugger saw him, too and let go of the purse.
“Good luck, dude. I hope you make it,” he said as he backed away. “I’m outta here.” He turned and took off at a run.
Penelope sighed with relief, but then she felt another jerk on her purse strap.
“I don’t want your purse or your phone,” the escapee said. “Just gimme all your money.”
By now Penelope was completely out patience. Middle-aged knitting teachers ought to be able to walk to their cars after class without getting mugged, even if the shop was across the street from the jail . If she gave in now, criminals everywhere would think nice knitting lades were easy pickings. No knitter would be safe. And she didn’t even want to think what Bill would have to say about it. In one swift and smooth move, Penelope let go of her purse strap, grabbed the size thirteen knitting needles out of her knitting bag, and jabbed them into the man’s mid-section.
“Hey!’ the man exclaimed as he lost his balance, letting go of the purse as he tried to break his fall.
Penelope pressed her advantage and pushed. He landed face down on the sidewalk. She sat on him, pinning him to the ground with the weight she’d put on over the past few years. With one hand, she held the knitting needles close to his face and rummaged in her knitting bag with her other hand. She shook her head over the yarn she pulled out of her bag.
“I suppose I have to, but I hate to sacrifice it,” Penelope muttered as she put down the knitting needles and gave her full attention to securing the man’s ankles with the yarn. “This is one hundred percent merino from happy sheep,” she told the man severely. “And now I probably won’t have enough left to finish Robbie’s sweater.”
Penelope, however, had underestimated the power of the size thirteen knitting needles. As they rolled harmlessly down the sidewalk, no longer pointing menacingly in his face, the escapee heaved Penelope off his back, rolled over, and managed to get to his tied-together feet.