IN FOR A PENNY (The Granny Series) (9 page)

Thank you for being my best friend for all these years.

Love always,

Lil

An unnatural weight pressed against Maggie’s bladder, and she trotted into the downstairs powder room and plopped on the toilet. What was Lil thinking, leaving her that letter, a piece of paper that no more explained what Lil was about than a man on the moon?

If you think I’m going to wait until after the Fourth to get to the bottom of this, the brain in that skinny little head of yours is going mushy.

Maggie flushed, washed her hands and face and stormed outside to find her
new
best friend, Sera.

Chapter Ten

She marched to the gazebo where Sera sat cross-legged in the grass, humming a tune while she painted fine detail on Yankee Doodle Dandy’s top hat.

“Sera, I know I’m asking favors right and left today—” Maggie tried to catch her breath, “—but I need you to go somewhere with me.”

“But what about the scratch-off tickets?
I was going to work on those as soon as I got done with this costume.”

“This is even more important.” Shoot. Maggie remembered her truck had under a quarter tank of gas. “And I need you to drive.”

Some of her desperation must’ve shown in her face because Sera popped to her feet and tossed her paintbrush into a can of water. “It’ll take me ten minutes to break camp.”

“I’m really sorry about this, but—”

Sera held up a hand. “You should stop apologizing. It decreases your psychic stamina, opens your brain and body to toxic chemicals.”

Okay.

Sera hotfooted it around the house and across the meadow. By the time Maggie caught up with her, the tarp was down and folded and Sera was stowing the last of her few belongings in the van. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.”

Now, Sera stared at Maggie like she was a pancake shy of a short stack. And oh, didn’t maple syrup sound delicious about now? Maggie shook her head. “I mean, I have an address. Do you have a GPS?”

Sera waved a hand toward the east. “I go where I’m moved to go.”

“Then stop by the house and I’ll grab mine.”

A few minutes later, they were putt-putting out of Summer Haven’s driveway and headed northwest.

An hour and a half and three pit-stops for Maggie to pee later, Sera pulled up to a gatehouse flanked by tightly woven chain link fence. Maggie leaned toward the driver’s side window and said, “Hi, we’re here to pick up Lillian Summer’s car, but I’m not sure we’re in the right place.”

“Do you know when she arrived?”

“Yesterday.”

He flipped through his papers. “I see it here. It should be in slot number 56. I’ll need your names and IDs before I can let you into the lot.”

They passed him their driver’s licenses and he jotted down something on his clipboard and passed them back. He had a patch on his shirt sleeve, but the embroidery was too tiny for Maggie to make out the words. It was obvious this was some kind of official facility though.

She said, “Forgive me—” She glanced at Sera to see if she’d caught Maggie apologizing again.
Busted.
“I mean, could you tell me what this place is? Our friend left us a note to pick up her car, but no other information.”

The young man’s face scrunched with what looked like pity and he pointed to the sign to the right of the gate. If it had been a snake, it would’ve bitten her.

The letters on the metal sign were raised and slightly faded. Strung together, they spelled
Walter Stiles Federal Prison Camp
.

Snake?
That sign was nothing less than a fork-tongued copperhead.

Maggie and Sera exchanged a look but neither said a word. Sera slowly pulled into the parking lot and parked in the spot next to the Torpedo.

“Did you bring the keys?” Sera asked.

“Lillian left them on the front left tire.”

“In California, you couldn’t do that. Someone would boost it for sure.”

Maggie stared at her. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re inside a federal prison facility.”

Sera lifted a shoulder. “More criminals here than anywhere else. Right?”

“Good point.”
Criminals.
Could that word possibly apply to Lillian? Maggie was sure as shooting going to find out.

Her every muscle shot, Maggie rolled
bonelessly out the van door and plodded over to Lillian’s car. The doors were locked. She felt around on the front tire for Lil’s keys and pocketed them.

Sera hung out the driver’s side window. “What now?”

“I’m going inside,” Maggie said, then turned and headed for the door in the center of the plain white building.
You can’t just dump and run on me like this, Lil. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Today.

Gravel skittered behind her, causing Maggie to spin around.

Sera smiled a sheepish smile. “I don’t want to sit out here alone. This is a freaky place.”

Maggie glanced down at Sera’s bare feet. Was that even permissible in prison?
Guess they were about to find out.

They hiked across the lot to the front door. The door
was locked but a buzzer hung on the wall next to it.

Maggie punched the button.

After a moment, she pressed it again.

Finally, someone answered. The scratchy voice was like the worst drive-thru restaurant.
You want fries with that?
“Walter Stiles Federal Prison Camp. Please state your business.”

“We’re here to see Lillian Fairview.” Please let that tinny voice tell her there had been some mistake. That she’d never heard the name.

“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over for the day. You can come Monday for special holiday hours between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m.”

Maggie’s stomach cramped. Not only hadn’t the person on the other end denied that Lillian was there, but visiting hours were smack dab in the middle of the parade and play. “So…so are
you telling me that she’s in there somewhere?”

The silence stretched out. “You are here to visit an inmate, correct?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” That last word definitely came out of Maggie’s mouth a shriek.

Sera grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“Lillian Summer Fairview voluntarily surrendered yesterday. You may visit her the day after tomorrow during the hours stated. Otherwise, the next visiting hours are on Friday from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.”

The intercom clicked off and Maggie’s knees melted to the consistency of carpenter’s putty. She’d either have to miss the Fourth of July parade or wait until Friday to see Lillian.

Lil, it’s going to kill me to wait, but I know that’s what you would want.

Sera wrapped her arm around Maggie. “Come on. Nothing we can do here today.” They walked back to the parking lot. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive? Why don’t you let me take you home? We can pick up the car when we come back to visit Lillian.”

Maggie lifted her chin. “No. I’ll do exactly as she asked. I don’t know what the heck is going on, but I’ll have to find a way to help her.”

“You jump behind the wheel then. I’ll follow you. If you feel shaky at any time, you just pull over.”

“I’ll be fine.” Maggie pulled the keys from her pocket and unlocked the car. She looked at the flowery woman-child next to her. “Thank you for being such a dear. I appreciate it.” Maggie slid behind the wheel of Lil’s daddy’s precious car and closed the door.

Sera ran over to the van and fired it up.

Maggie cranked the Torpedo.
Lil, I never thought I’d be driving your daddy’s car. What have you done?

On her way out of the lot, she glanced once more at the prison camp sign.
They said she’s really here. That she surrendered.

Lillian.
Her Lil. A jailbird.

After the orientation session, Lillian’s head was reeling with all the dos and don’ts of federal prison life. She stepped out of the changing area wearing her prison-issued khaki shirt, khaki pants and a pair of steel-toe shoes.

She looked down at herself and wiggled her toes. Too bad they didn’t issue a handbag to match this fashion
faux pas
. She’d need extra makeup if she was stuck wearing this. Khaki just wasn’t her color.

She pushed her lips together hoping to
pinken them up, then carried the paper sack with the rest of her assigned wardrobe out into the hall as she’d been instructed. The stiff cotton scratched at her thin skin and she’d had to turn the bottom of the pants under so they didn’t drag on the floor.

The line of women who’d gone through orientation with her stood single file like a row of naked paper dolls waiting for some colorful clothes. Some of them looked so young. Too young to
be locked up like this. Yes, this was a minimum security facility with supposedly the best amenities a lawbreaker could expect, but it was prison just the same. Most of these folks probably weren’t dangerous criminals, but were here on white-collar crime and drug charges. Still, it was such a shame.

As they marched through the front building to their assigned dormitory, she noticed many of the young girls’ pant hems dragging across the cloudy-looking floor. If only she had a thread and needle she could fix this problem in a quick hurry.
She hadn’t run the Summer Shoals Quilting Bee in her home every summer for more years than she cared to count without becoming quite adept with a needle and thread.

Lillian studied her surroundings. The whole place looked as if it could use a fresh coat of paint, and some color would be nice. Flowers maybe?
Don’t be setting up housekeeping. I won’t be here that long. If I keep my head down, hands busy and mouth shut, I’ll be back home at Summer Haven before I know it.

The group
was led into a huge room holding at least a hundred metal bunk beds. Each was partially surrounded by a chin-high cinderblock wall painted with a number. Those thin mattresses certainly didn’t look as comfy as her pillow-top at home. Nary a throw pillow in the place either.

Lillian put her limited wardrobe away and then turned to see a red-headed woman standing behind her. Well, at least the bottom half of her hair was red. Her roots were about six inches of dark brown with wiry grays springing out in three directions.

“Heard I was getting a new bunkmate,” the woman said.

With her best Summer Shoals meet ’n’ greet grin, Lillian extended her hand. “I’m Lillian Summer Fairview.
So nice to meet you.”

The woman raised a brow and stepped back instead of toward her. “That’s a lot of big names for a woman little as you. What the heck did you do to end up here?”

Her tongue went numb. Oh, Lord. She should’ve considered this question would come up right out of the chute. She dang sure wasn’t going to roll back to Harlan squandering all her money on lottery tickets every time someone asked what she’d done. If she had to guess, there were nearly a thousand inmates. She’d probably still be telling the story when she walked away at the end of her sentence.

“Fine, so you don’t want to share. I’m Dixie. How long you in for?”

Hmm…what about not wanting to share hadn’t she understood? But still Lillian said, “Not as long as they said, I hope.”

“Don’t we all?”

Lillian dug a long sleeve T-shirt out of her bag and pulled it over top of her shirt.

“You have to wear that under your other shirt,” Dixie said. “It’s the rule.”

“Certainly you’re kidding.”

Dixie shook her head.
“Seriously. The shirt with your name identification and bar code has to be worn on the outside of whatever else you’re wearing. All the time.”

Lillian frowned. She wasn’t particularly interested in undressing down to her bra in front of this stranger, but she was cold and the bathroom was a trek from here. Probably wasn’t the last humiliating thing she
’d be subjected to in this place.

Unbuttoning the camp shirt was difficult with her aching fingers but she managed to get them undone. She slipped it off and put on the long sleeve T-shirt and then pulled the camp shirt back on and tucked it into her pants. She tugged the waist of her shirt out and pouffed it a little to make it look a little nicer. The shades of khaki didn’t even match.
Yellow-tones and blue-tones together. Might as well have been plaid and stripes.

Once Lillian was re-dressed, Dixie said, “You gonna tell me what you done?”

Lillian folded her arms across her chest. “I spent some money that wasn’t mine to spend.”

“Embezzlement, huh?
Usually it’s the other way around. Old ladies being embezzled. Not old ladies doing the embezzling. Good scheme. I like it.”

“I’m not proud of it.”

“Hey, whatever floats your boat. I’m in no position to judge you.”

“What brought you into this unfortunate circumstance?”

Dixie laughed. “Unfortunate? Honey, after the amount of bad checks I wrote, there’s not a darn thing unfortunate about landing in Walter Stiles Federal Prison Camp. Compared to real prison, it’s like living in luxury. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Only Lillian knew better. She’d had more. She knew what more felt like, and this was not luxury.

“They give you a work assignment yet?”

“Cleaning the bathrooms.”

Dixie wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, lots of the newbies catch that one.”

“I’ve taken care of a four-bathroom home for many years.”