Undercover Inmates

by Madison Johns

  Undercover Inmates

  Madison Johns

  Copyright © 2016 Madison Johns

  Undercover Inmates, Madison Johns

  All rights reserved.

  http://madisonjohns.com

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  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  From the Author

  There is only one prison in Michigan for women, Women’s Huron Valley Corrections Facility, and I chose to use a fictitious Westbrook Prison.

  Thanks to who will remain nameless for helping me portray prison life.

  Undercover Inmates

  Agnes Barton and Eleanor Mason’s most riveting case yet.

  For years Agnes and Eleanor longed to be taken seriously by law enforcement for their investigative skills, and when they’re deputized to enter Westbrook Prison as undercover inmates they finally have their chance.

  Westbrook’s beautician, Trudy Taylor, was found dead during lockup and the inmates have threatened to riot after Warden Geyer’s investigation of the incident falls short.

  Agnes and Eleanor enter the prison without the inmates or prison staff knowing what they’re there to do. With the encouragement of the inmates, Agnes and Eleanor make a bargain that the warden can’t turn down — not if she wants to prevent a riot.

  The investigators are in the worst place possible, struggling to integrate into the inmate population. As the investigation moves forward, the truth might be more than they can handle.

  Chapter One

  Eleanor and I stumbled off the transport bus to line up near a corrections officer. I tried not to twist my wrist lest the handcuffs chafe my wrists more than they already had. I swallowed hard as the Westbrook Prison loomed ahead. Would Eleanor and I be able to pull this off? Could we really mingle among the inmates undetected — as undercover inmates?

  My husband Andrew wouldn’t be happy about this, but he was in Detroit on a case, and he’d taken Eleanor’s Mr. Wilson along, I think for comedic relief. This might be our most dangerous case yet. We were deputized, but we’d have to hold our own, which meant no help from either the warden or the corrections officers. Even they didn’t know why we were here. Our job was simple: find out who killed the prison beautician before the inmates rioted. Apparently these women take losing a prison beautician hard. She was an inmate, but that doesn’t mean she’s any less important. That’s why Eleanor and I took on this case.

  From here on out, I wouldn’t be Agnes Barton private investigator. I had a prison number or was simply called Barton. Eleanor was Mason.

  “Hurry up, Barton,” Officer Miller said sweetly.

  “One of these days you’ll have to toughen up, Miller, or you’ll have the inmates walking all over you,” Officer Barlow said. “I’m Officer Barlow and this is Officer Miller. She’ll be taking you inside. Follow our orders and we won’t have a problem.”

  Miller frowned for a moment and quickly went back to being stone-faced. From what I’ve seen so far, that’s the expression all the officers wear. That’s understandable. Their job isn’t easy, but I’m curious about how it is from the inmates’ point of views.

  Miller motioned us forward with her baton, and we walked inside and along a corridor until she stopped and said, “That’s far enough. Keep along the wall to the right until your name is called. You’ll then proceed into that office.”

  I waited as Eleanor’s last name was called first. When she emerged from the room, she said, “It’s the standard strip search and handing over of valuables -- including my wedding ring!”

  “That’s enough, Mason,” Miller said. “They’ll find out when it’s their turn.”

  After processing, we each held an orange shirt and pants; a small bag containing toothpaste, toothbrush; and shampoo in the tiniest bottle I’ve ever seen. I was shocked to discover the large room we were led into contained eight beds.

  “We have to share a cell with eight women?” I asked.

  “You’re not in a pod yet,” Miller informed me. “This is quarantine.”

  “What does that mean?” Eleanor asked.

  “You’ll be here until we know you don’t have anything contagious.”

  When Officer Barlow entered the room, Miller barked, “Get dressed and we’ll take you the commissary where you can purchase supplies, unless you like the standard toothpaste and shampoo. It will be hardly enough to last you long.”

  “How can we go there if you think we might be contagious?” I asked.

  “You know, you’re right.”

  The sighs of the other inmates gave me pause. I had inconvenienced us all. I chalked that up to a newbie mistake. I only hoped the other inmates would feel that way, too, and cut me some slack.

  As Eleanor and I changed into our orange prison uniforms the first thing that came to my mind was how much I missed my privacy. Well, that and my freedom and my Andrew. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this culture shock.

  I sat across from a thin blonde who couldn’t weigh ninety pounds wet. Tears rolled down her face before they fell to her palms where they pooled.

  “Hello there,” I greeted her. “My name is Agnes Barton and this is Eleanor Mason.”

  “H-Hi,” is all she could manage.

  “I hope I don’t have to hear her sniveling all night,” a portly woman griped.

  “Leave her alone, Jessy,” a tall, thin woman said. “I’m Mel.” She fluffed her gray hair. “Believe it or not, I’m not even forty yet. Premature gray hair is what I got going on.” She laughed.

  “I-I’m Laura,” the crying woman finally eked out.

  “Is this when we’re supposed to … you know tell each other why we’re in here?” Eleanor asked.

  Laura glanced up and then back at her lap. “I’d rather forget,” she said.

  “I’d kill the crying stuff before we head to the pod,” Jessy said. “It’s better to hold your own in here.”

  Jessy spoke to Laura in a gruff voice, but I imagined her advice was stellar. I kept trying to remember my story about why I’m in prison just in case anyone asks.

  Office Miller returned. “I’ll take your commissary orders now, providing you have money in your accounts.”

  “I-I don’t,” Laura said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll order what you need.” I whispered to Laura, as Mel, Jezzy and Eleanor blocked Laura from Officer Miller. “I’ll order extra shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste and deodorant.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t allow you to do that. I don’t know when or how I’ll be able to pay you back.”

  How? What did she mean by that?

  I didn’t have to ponder long when Laura informed me, “I’m not like that, you know. I have a boyfriend -- or I used to.”

  I nodded. “I don’t have to guess why you’re in here then. I imagine that boyfriend you had helped put you here. I have a husband.”

  I approached Miller. “I’d like to order two of the deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, and soup. I mean soap.” When the officer gave me an odd look, I added. “Also double toothpaste and toothbrushes.”

 
“Are you sure you want to spend your account money on toiletries for another inmate?”

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  She nodded toward Laura. “Since she’s the only one not hightailing it up here, you must be buying her toiletries.”

  “No,” I lied. “I just go through toiletries like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “Hmm,” Miller buzzed as I moved to where Eleanor waited with Mel and Jessy.

  Jessy shook her head at me as the new inmate approached and introduced herself as Char. “I couldn’t help but notice that you ordered for two. Is there something we need to know about?”

  “I use a lot of shampoo and conditioner. I mean, I really didn’t know how much to order.”

  Char rolled her eyes and put one hand on my shoulder to get my attention before letting it drop to her side. “Look, you remind me of my grandmother so I’ll give you some advice. You’ve been played.” She pointed to Laura. “That sweet thing over there is no more in need than you. She knows how to turn those doe-like eyes on whenever she wants something. She has an account like the rest of us.”

  My hands slipped to my hips. “And how can you be so sure?”

  “We were in the Oakland County jail together. She’s been playing the, ‘Oh, I don’t have any money in my account business’ since she’s been locked up.”

  My lips formed an O. “I see. Well, I’m still not sorry for trying to help her out. I don’t need any bad karma coming my way.”

  Char laughed. “I believe we’ve all been shown just how bad karma can get or none of us would be here, now, would we?”

  I nodded. “You know you’re right.”

  “She doesn’t mean to be a know-it-all,” Eleanor said. “Agnes can’t seem to help herself.”

  Char narrowed her eyes and glared at Eleanor. I said, “This is Eleanor. She’s a good friend.”

  “So what are you two in here for?” Jessy asked with a blank stare.

  “Armed robbery,” I said while at the same time Eleanor exclaimed, “Grand theft auto.”

  “So which is it?” Jessy asked with a near sneer.

  “I robbed a bank,” I insisted.

  “And I stole a car and was the getaway driver,” Eleanor added. “It seemed like a good idea up until the time I slammed into a cop car when Agnes came out with the loot.”

  Char laughed. “Thanks for the image. It’s hard to find things to laugh about in this place.”

  “You’ve obviously been in prison before” I said.

  “It’s been a revolving door for me, I’m afraid,” Char said. “I really thought I’d be out for the long haul, but I just don’t do good on the outside.”

  “She’s in for attempted murder,” Jessy said with a smile.

  “I should have known that good-for-nothing husband was up to no good when he didn’t pick me up from prison. So, I might have thrown a few punches when I caught him with that bartender.”

  “Would that be a few dozen?” Mel asked.

  “So what are you in for Mel?” Char asked.

  Mel shrugged. “Embezzlement. When I wasn’t caught the first time, I didn’t think I ever would be. I guess I was wrong.”

  “Sounds like all you women are in here for a long haul,” Jessy said. “I’m only here for probation violation. Have to serve the last six months of my original sentence for uttering and publishing.”

  “Bad checks?” Eleanor replied. “And here I thought you were in for murder.”

  Jessy’s face twisted into a snarl and she took a step toward Eleanor. “Why would you think that?”

  “It must be you sunny disposition.” Char laughed.

  “So nobody is here for murder,” I mused aloud. “I suppose that’s a good thing since there are way too many murders according to those crime shows on television.”

  “You watch crime shows?” Jessy asked.

  “How else are we going to figure out how to not get caught,” Eleanor said. “I must have missed the one on how not to get caught when you’re the getaway driver.” She sighed. “I wish I had just borrowed my mother’s car.”

  Jessy locked eyes with Eleanor and asked, “Is your mother still alive ?”

  “Mind your business,” Char said. “Show some respect.”

  “Just because you’re a frequent flier doesn’t mean what you say goes.”

  “Try me and see,” Char threatened with a raise of her chin.

  Jessy didn’t rise to the challenge, instead remaining seated on her bunk until Char walked to the far side of the room. That’s when Jessy jumped up and bumped her shoulder into mine. “Char won’t always be around you know.”

  I suppose I should have felt intimidated, but Jessy only riled me. Her tough act wasn’t cutting t with me. I only hoped I wouldn’t be pushed into an altercation with her.

  “You better watch it with her,” Eleanor whispered as Jessy walked away.

  “It’s fine. I have it handled.”

  “This isn’t a women’s prison show, Agnes. You could really get hurt if that Jessy gets irritated with you.”

  “I’m not worried about it. Besides, what are the odds she’ll be put in the same pod as us?”

  Laura sat quietly on her bed, not engaging with anyone. Eleanor and I sat on either side of her on her bunk. “Are you always a quiet one?” I asked.

  “It’s better that way.”

  “What are you in for?”

  She shrugged.

  “What’s the big secret? Did you murder someone?” Eleanor pressed.

  Laura gazed up at us. “Please leave me alone.”

  “Fine, but it’s going to lonely in here if you never speak to anyone,” I replied as we left.

  “Maybe she’s right. It might be better for us to keep a low profile, too,” Eleanor suggested.

  “Except that we’ll have to interact with the prisoners if we’re to find out who killed the beautician. I only hope we’ll get out of quarantine soon.”

  Chapter Two

  “Barton, the nurse will see you now,” the gruff officer said. She stood six feet, two inches tall, with the build of a linebacker.

  I gave her nametag a quick look. “Right away, Officer Schulze.”

  “Can I go with her?” Eleanor asked.

  “What is it with you two? Are you girlfriends?” She laughed. Her smile quickly faded. “Sit back down, Mason.”

  Eleanor begrudgingly did as she was told, but with a sneer on her face. “How do you know anything about us? This is the first time you’ve seen us,” Eleanor muttered to herself.

  “If you have something to say to me, Mason, speak up.”

  Eleanor clammed up, which made me happy because I didn’t want to see her written up.

  “That’s what I thought. In case you’re wondering, Barlow gave me the rundown about all you newbies.” Schulze stared at Char for a moment before adding, “And you frequent fliers.”

  I walked into the other room and greeted the nurse as I sat in the blood collection chair, offering her my right arm. “I have deep veins,” I informed her. She wrapped the rubber band above my elbow and I suffered as she tapped my arm and dug deep to find a usable vein. “Did I mention that I hate needles?”

  “Nobody cares.”

  I remained silent after that. Although the nurse was pleasant enough, I wondered how long it would be before the quarantine was completed. We had been here more than two weeks now whiling away our time. We certainly would not be able to solve any case while stuck in quarantine.

  “Send Mason in,” the nurse said, looking at a stack of forms.

  I walked into the other room and tagged Eleanor for her turn.

  Then it was time to meet the doctor. I smiled as I sat in the exam room. The doctor’s dark curls swayed as she listened to my heart with the frosty stethoscope. She was younger than I imagined.

  “I’m Doctor Wright,” she said.

  “At least you’re not the wrong doctor,” I joked.

  She smiled for a fraction of a second. “Do you
have any health problems I should be aware of?”

  “I have a nagging hip and my right knee has been bothering me.”

  “I’ll make a note of that for the warden. It might help with your job assignments.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

  The remainder of the day consisted of waiting in the quarantine cell, staring at the walls or the bottoms of the upper bunks.

  Schulze opened the cell door and tapped her clipboard. “It looks like it’s time for you ladies to learn what real prison life is all about,” she said. “Gather your belongings and follow me to the linen room. I expect all of you are strong enough to lug your mattress and linen to your cells. You’re all in F Pod.”

  Char gasped. “You can’t send Agnes and Eleanor there. They’ll be eaten alive.”

  “Do you want to spend your first night back in solitary, Char?”

  Char kept silent after that. “What’s wrong with that pod?” I asked in a whisper.

  “It’s a step down from maximum security, but many of the inmates are not right in the head. Keep to yourselves.”

  * * *

  As Eleanor and I entered the pod I tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

  Inmates congregated in the center of the large room, catcalling, which I believe was meant to intimidate the new inmates. Of course, Eleanor didn’t seem to mind, playing along with a bob of her head in greeting. I didn’t pay all the much attention as I struggled to carry what the prison considered a mattress and bedding. At least it smelled clean.

  I stared at the open cells on two different levels connected by metal stairs. “Barton and Mason, this is your cell. You have five minutes to get you bunks in order,” Officer Schulze barked.

  I was relieved to find that the cell we walked into had only two beds — and that Eleanor and I were together. “This is certainly close quarters,” I said.

  “Shh, we only have five minutes, remember?” Eleanor said.

  We hurried to make our beds, and Officer Schulze introduced us to Maria Lopez. “She’s a trustee. If you have any questions, direct them to her.”