Undercover Inmates

by Madison Johns

  “Right this way, ladies,” Lopez said. “I’ll give you a tour of the facilities.”

  We walked into the shower room. The stalls were tiny, but at least they had curtains offering some privacy. Lopez then took us down a long hallway, where Eleanor stopped at a large sign over a closed door. It read Beautician.

  “So there is a hair salon. Great,” Eleanor exclaimed with a sigh. “I really am in need of a cut and style.”

  “We have a salon, but are short a beautician. The last one was found dead in the shower room. She was found after lockup, so a few of the inmates are talking riot if the warden doesn’t find the killer soon,” Lopez whispered.

  “Do they think an officer was involved?” I asked.

  “That’s the consensus. How else would she be out of her cell during lockup? It smells wrong, if you ask me.”

  “What was her name?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t start asking too many questions if I were you.”

  “Trudy Taylor,” Char offered. “My sister is locked up here, too. Or was until she was paroled last week. Our mother relayed the information to me when I found out I was coming to Westbrook.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry. I have an interest in solving mysteries.”

  “That’s a good pastime I suppose, but I’m not sure how the other inmates might feel about it,” Lopez commented.

  Lopez led us into a room housing tables with benches bolted to the floor, past metal steam tables lining the front of the area.

  “This is the chow hall,” Lopez explained. “The first thing that’s hard to get used to is being constantly supervised. Cameras are positioned in most areas, but I’m sure you’ll find out where the blind spots are in time. Stay away from them, no matter what anyone tells you.”

  She led us back to the pod’s open area, and when we sat down inquisitive inmates surrounded us. “So what you in for, Blondie?” they first asked Laura.

  She glanced down until a brawny inmate pounded her fist on the table, causing Eleanor and me to jump.

  Laura then looked up angrily. “Murder. I’m a psycho killer; how’s that?” She stood up and clenched her hands into fists. “If anyone hassles me, they’ll be sorry. I might be small, but I have one hell of a punch.”

  Laura walked back to her cell as the inmates laughed and hooted after her. “It was easy to break her,” an inmate said. “She’s no more a murderer than I’m a nun.”

  I remained silent, thumbing through a tattered magazine until Char said, “Time to line up for chow.”

  Eleanor and I followed the inmates into the chow hall, but I became concerned when I didn’t see Laura join the line.

  “Let’s head back and find Laura,” I whispered to Eleanor.

  “But we haven’t even gotten our food yet. I’m hungry.”

  “Would you rather eat and allow poor Laura to be harmed? You heard how she talked to the other inmates. That spells sure trouble for her.”

  Eleanor reluctantly followed me down the hallway when Schulze stopped us. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. “Chow’s the other direction.”

  “We have to use the bathroom.”

  “Hurry it up,” she said as she led us to the bathroom and posted herself outside the door.

  “How are we going to get out of here without that Amazon following us?” Eleanor asked once we were inside the bathroom.

  “You could keep her busy while I look for Laura.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Probably not, but what else can we do?”

  We waited a few minutes before Eleanor walked from the bathroom. “Agnes might be a while,” Eleanor told Schulze. “I’m hungry.”

  “I guess you’ll be eating scraps tonight then because I’m not moving.”

  I crept out of the bathroom as Eleanor and Schulze continued their debate. I hurried around the corner that led back to the pod. I ignored the cameras as I made a sweep of the cells, listening for any sounds that carried because of the echo effect.

  Thump…

  I moved in the direction of the showers and crept inside and found Laura smoking a cigarette with the same inmate who had challenged her earlier. I hurried back out of the room at the sound of footsteps moving in my direction. I raced back to where Eleanor and Schulze had been, but because they were gone I walked back to the chow hall alone. I had stood in line no more than a minute when Schulze walked over to me, her nostrils flaring slightly.

  “How did you slip past me at the shower?”

  “I don’t know. I walked right past you while you and Eleanor were talking. Perhaps you need glasses or a hearing aid.”

  “Maybe you’d like a night in solitary.”

  “Leave her alone, Schulze,” said a woman dressed in a skirt and matching jacket, and heels. I suspected she was the warden, although I didn’t recall that Westbrook had a female warden. A younger man dressed in suit and tie flanked her.

  “But she was AWOL.”

  “I’m aware of where she was at all times. Kindly release Mason from solitary. I don’t need our newcomers to be deprived of dinner on their first night in the pod.”

  I didn’t know which shocked me more, that this woman censured the officer in front of the inmates or that Eleanor had been sent to solitary for what I had done.

  “I’m Warden Geyer and this is the Deputy Director Smith,” the woman explained.

  “Hello, Barton. You had us worried for a moment, but I can see the situation has been rectified. Consider that your one and only warning. You had better find a way to make peace with Schulze or your stay will be a long one,” Deputy Director Smith said.

  “Thank you. I really didn’t mean to break any rules.”

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Warden Geyer asked.

  “No. I thought someone was missing, but I can see she’s sitting right over there,” I said, not indicating who I meant. I didn’t want to break any inmate codes of conduct.

  Eleanor huffed and puffed as she joined me in the chow line. I didn’t even notice what was thrown on my tray until we found a seat. Yuck! Beef over noodles that tasted like mush, the beef too hard to chew with my dentures.

  I swallowed it down with black coffee that tasted nothing like my vanilla creamer-enhanced coffee I drank back at home. I didn’t think about how many sacrifices I’d have to make.

  I yawned by the time dinner was over and shuffled into the main room.

  “Stand in that line over there,” Char said. “They hand out the nightly medications there.”

  I nodded, and Eleanor and I fidgeted as we took turns checking the length of the line.

  After we had taken our medications – an act observed by a corrections officer — I followed Eleanor back to our cell instead of congregating in the rec room with most of the inmates. Fortunately we weren’t bothered, and I dozed off until the doors of the cell slammed closed.

  It was hard not to cringe at the sound of the other inmates moving in their cells. And a solid night’s sleep was impossible with the officers walking past with their flashlights trained on us.

  I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live like this for years and years. It was hardly living at all.

  It appeared we would survive our first night in our pod. After nearly three weeks in prison all we had learned was the name of the beautician.

  Chapter Three

  I covered my eyes as the blast of lights came on in the morning. It’s the only way I could discern where I was, and it came crashing down on me that I wasn’t home in bed, but in a cramped cell in Westbrook Prison.

  Today would be our first full day in the regular population, and I hoped to make the most of it investigation-wise.

  We hurried to make our bunks before an officer showed up to give us grief. We then followed the other prisoners into the chow hall.

  I stood in line behind Eleanor until it was our turn at the steam table, where oatmeal and scrambled eggs were plopped on our plates. I nodded kindly to th
e woman working the steam table. A woman who was about our age motioned us over to a table near the door.

  “Can we sit here?” I asked.

  The large woman smiled slightly, wrinkles creasing her face. “Why else did you think I called you over here?”

  I shrugged and sat down. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank anyone, but you should have been given a hash brown patty. I was planning to ask if you’d like to trade me the hash brown for a my piece of bacon.”

  My mouth watered. “That sounds like a good trade. I’ll go right back up there to ask for one,” I said.

  I marched back up to the chow line and indeed saw the aforementioned hash brown that I hadn’t been given. “Could I please have the hash brown?” I asked politely. “You must have forgotten to give it to me.”

  “Is that right?” the woman asked with a chuckle. “I guess you’ll have to try back tomorrow. I don’t feel like giving you a hash brown today.”

  My brow shot up. “And why not?” I demanded.

  “I could be convinced if you could give me your pin number. I need to call my mother.” She grinned.

  “I imagine you might, but I forgot my pin number. At my age I barely remember my name.”

  “It looks like we might have a problem then, because I’m not giving you anything without you paying me.”

  “I imagine you’d feel that way, but I’m not about to barter with you. I’m already bartering with someone else.”

  “Stop it, Teresa,” the woman next to her said. “Don’t let her scare you. I’m Jana.” She put a hash brown on a plate and handed it to me.

  “Thank you, Jana. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped, Teresa. I’m figuring out how things work here.”

  I sat down and presented the hash brown to the woman in exchange for a piece of cold bacon, which I devoured without complaining. I had achieved a victory. I conducted my first prison trade.

  A voice came over the intercom: “Report to Hallway A to receive your work assignments after breakfast.”

  “Where is Hallway A, I wonder,” I said.

  “It’s very confusing with all the twist and turns of this place,” Eleanor admitted.

  I smiled hopefully at the woman across from me, but from her frowning face, I assumed she’d be of no help.

  “I wonder when we can take a shower,” I said.

  The woman crossed her arms and said, “You should have done that before you came to breakfast. Some inmates even shower instead of breakfast.” She pushed up from the table, depositing the hash brown into her pocket.

  Char met us outside the chow hall and smiled. “I thought you wouldn’t mind horribly if I showed you the ropes. Hallway A is this way. I saw what happened when you disappeared on Schulze. I’m sure you’re aware that wasn’t the smartest move. She can be a tyrant at times, but she’s certainly an officer to have in your corner.”

  I nodded, although I couldn’t imagine Schulze to be anything but difficult. Perhaps it was time to listen to the wisdom of others. I really was glad that Char was helping us out, even if I wasn’t sure her kindness would last all that long – or whether it had a price. We could hardly expect her to take us under her wing, especially when we had our own agenda.

  Eleanor and I stood in the back of the line as names were called and inmates moved along to their assignments.

  “I wonder what jobs we’ll be given. I hope we can remain together,” I said to Eleanor.

  “Barton and Mason, I’ll take you to the offices,” Officer Barlow said. “You’ll be cleaning them today.”

  Eleanor and I smiled, happy with our assignments. Not because cleaning the offices would be easy compared to some assignments, but because we might be able to gather useful information while we were there. That was my hope, anyway.

  “How do you just come in here and get a cushy job like that,” an inmate complained.

  “Now, Velma, I remember when you first came here,” another inmate said. “You were under the weather and didn’t have a work assignment for an entire week.”

  Velma smiled. “You’re right, Yolanda. Thankfully nobody gave me any grief about it. But you noticed how the warden treated them at dinner in the chow room.”

  Yolanda locked eyes with me. “That was only an act because the deputy director was here, and you know it. When was the last time you’ve seen the warden showing off her pretty legs in our chow hall? I’ll tell you when—never!”

  “I can’t believe that an investigation isn’t ongoing to find out who killed the beautician,” I said.

  Velma’s eyes blazed. “Who told you about that?”

  “I’d rather not reveal my source. I’m no snitch,” I exclaimed.

  “Fine, but you’ll need to hear the whole story.”

  “We’ll talk at lunch,” Yolanda said with a nod. “I sure hope we find another beautician, and soon. I need a permanent in the worse way.”

  “Yolanda means she wants her hair straightened,” Eleanor said. “Not curly.”

  “I’m perfectly aware of what she meant, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor and I followed Barlow to the offices. Her keys clanged together as she unlocked multiple doors. We made our way into a cleaning supply room, where another officer was positioned. “You’ll have to check out your cleaning supplies with Officer Yates,” Barlow explained.

  “That will be one vacuum, mop bucket and cleaner tablet, window cleaner, spray bottle and dust cloth,” Yates checked off her list.

  “What? No broom and dustpan?” I asked with a smile.

  “That’s a given,” Yates said.

  Eleanor filled the mop bucket with the soap tablet and moved the cleaning cart from the room and up the hallway. I pushed the vacuum cleaner. Barlow led us into the warden’s office. “The warden is out today, but you can do a once over while I watch.”

  “Do you have to?” I asked. “I hate to be watched while I work.”

  “You had better get used to it.”

  I grumbled as I plugged in the vacuum while Eleanor emptied the wastebaskets. Was it too much to hope that we’d find a document in one?

  We moved from the warden’s office to the psychiatrist’s office, where a rather good-looking man was seated behind a desk. “Hello, you must be new here.”

  “Does it show?” I asked.

  “I’m Dr. Franks. I expect I’ll be seeing the both of you soon. I would have earlier, but I was out of the office for a conference and only returned today.”

  I merely nodded as Barlow stood a few feet from us. I didn’t want to get into any trouble.

  “Officer Barlow, why don’t you busy yourself elsewhere? I’d like to speak with the women alone.”

  “But they’re assigned to work now. You’ll have to schedule appointments at a later time.”

  Dr. Franks stood. “I imagine the warden wouldn’t mind. Should I ask her?”

  “She’s not in the prison—” Barlow sighed. “Very well, but don’t keep them long.”

  I relaxed slightly when the door closed behind the officer. “It’s nice to meet you, doctor. I’m Agnes Barton.”

  “And I’m Eleanor Mason.”

  “It’s nice to meet you ladies. I believe I have you on my schedule in a few days. How are things going so far?”

  “Just fine for prison, I suppose,” I said.

  “It’s quite an adjustment,” Eleanor added. “But at least we’re roomed together.”

  Dr. Franks moved to his computer, clacking the keys as he typed. Then he frowned. “It’s highly unlikely that you two should even be in the same prison or pod since you committed your crimes together.”

  “Please don’t separate us,” I pleaded. “I swear, all we want is to serve our time with as few problems as possible.”

  “I understand that we’re in prison and here to serve our time. I didn’t expect to be given privileges,” Eleanor said. “But we need each other to adjust to life here. We have no plans to violate prison rules.”

  Dr. Franks looked up at us.
“I suppose you’re right. Obviously there was a reason you’ve been allowed to stay together. At least this way you’ll be less of a target for physical abuse after lockup.”

  “Are you certain,” I said. “I heard the beautician was murdered during lockup.”

  “Have the prisoners mentioned what they have planned to do?”

  “They need a new beautician, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That’s exactly what I meant, but if you catch wind of anything in regard to the inmates planning to take matters into their own hands, please let me know. I’d hate for anyone else to be hurt.”

  “I’m sure a new beautician is all they need,” I suggested.

  “Will we be able to clean your office now?” Eleanor asked.

  “Sure. I need to step out for a few moments anyway.”

  We waited until the doctor left and were surprised when Officer Barlow didn’t mosey into the office. We did what we came to do: search his office.

  “Hurry up, Eleanor,” I whispered.

  Eleanor glanced up in the corner. “Let’s just do our regular cleaning. I believe our movements are being tracked,” she said, nodding toward the security camera.

  “Got ya. I suppose it’s too much to hope that an incriminating file would be open for us to glance at while we clean.”

  I vacuumed and hummed while Eleanor wiped down the desk, which would be the perfect opportunity to upset a file enough that it would fall to the floor. Of course she didn’t do that since she believed we were being watched.

  With the wastebasket dumped into the larger trash bag on the cart, and the vacuum pushed further down the hallway, Lopez approached us.

  “I’m supposed to be supervising you now. Officer Barlow had to leave for a meeting.”

  “Oh? I was under the impression that we’d be watched by her the whole time we were cleaning today.”

  “I’m sure she told you that, but she seldom follows through.”

  “Except when we cleaned the warden’s office,” I said.

  “The employee bathrooms are part of your job, too.” She smiled. “I’ll be waiting in the warden’s lounge. It’s right across the hall from her office. Knock before you enter.”