The Prisoners' Group: A Mystery Novel

by Donna Underwood

Overview

Dr. Sharon Primm is found guilty of manslaughter and sent to serve her sentence at Lancer’s Women’s Prison. Prior to her conviction, Sharon was a well-respected psychologist at the Grief Clinic for five years. Now behind bars, she wants to do something good during her incarceration, so she gets in touch with her old coworkers to see about starting a program for her fellow women in lockdown.

To her amazement, all four of the social workers at the Grief Clinic agree to get involved. Soon, her pilot program is off and running with Brooksie, Lucinda, Rachael, and Anita at the helm. But it’s not long before things start going badly at Lancer’s. An inmate ends up missing, the only trace of her being a bit of blood in the laundry room. Missing quickly turns to murder, and the women are frightened of much more than their fellow convicts.

There’s something nasty happening at Lancer’s, and Sharon is intent on finding out what. With the help of her friends at the Grief Clinic and the other inmates, evil intent and corrupt practices are revealed. Yet who’s going to believe a bunch of criminals? Despite the odds, these women will work together to right the wrongs, and some will even find hope in the darkness, emerging victorious on the other side.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781458221063
Publisher:	Abbott Press
Publication date:	06/22/2017
Pages:	250
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.53(d)

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

"You'll never be good enough for some people. The question is, is that your problem or theirs."

Author unknown

Workshop #1

"I'm excited and scared about presenting our first workshop today. I don't want to turn the participants off, but I sure as hell don't want to make them mad at us either," expressed Lucinda.

"I feel the same way," responded Brooksie. "My heart is racing and soon my stomach will start to act up. Most of my fear has to do with my effectiveness. Can we really make a difference in the lives of these incarcerated women? Six months isn't a very long time to offer these workshops and expect constructive change. I don't have the foggiest idea what it's like to be imprisoned. My childhood wasn't a 'leave it to Beaver' kind of scene, but it certainly wasn't filled with drugs, criminals, beatings, sexual shit and other kinds of abuses either. These women may see right through us. Like we are only do-gooders and don't have a clue what they have experienced."

"I don't know about that. You've shared your mother's four marriages, numerous school and neighborhood changes and your strong feelings of abandonment. I'll bet some of the inmates have had similar experiences, don't you think so?" questioned Lucinda.

"You're probably right. Those old abandonment feelings creep into my psyche when I least expect them. Maybe I'll learn something useful for myself as well as for the prisoners. Also I want Sharon's project to become successful and the programs to be offered to other prisons. She deserves to have her hard work bring about change for the good in all of the prisoners' lives. What's the worst thing that could happen? The program's failure to achieve any worthwhile changes in the women's behaviors; we could be beaten up and taken as hostages or maybe even murdered?" said Brooksie with a wide grin.

The two women exchanged knowing looks with each other. Lucinda turned away and began to laugh uproariously, soon joined by Brooksie. They were both still laughing as they drove into the prison's parking area.

"Do you think we will run into Loreli?" asked Lucinda.

"I hope not. In my opinion, she is a dangerous psychopath'" responded Brooksie.

They parked and walked through the several locked gates, as they had done before when they met with the Warden James. Their purses and coats were taken from them and placed in a secure area. They were permitted to carry in the workbooks and pencils that Sharon had asked them to bring. A female guard led them to the cafeteria. Sharon stood up as soon as she spotted the two friends enter.

Sharon, Brooksie and Lucinda exchanged bear hugs and greetings.

"Hope you are as excited as I am," said Sharon.

"I'm way past excited," responded Brooksie. "And I have the sweaty palms to prove it!" "Tony sends his best wishes for a fantastic first time workshop," beamed Lucinda.

"That doesn't surprise me one bit," responded Brooksie. "He is a thoughtful and generous man. You've definitely married Mr. Right."

Sharon added, "Lucinda, you deserve a loving partner and sounds like he does too."

"You also deserve a truckload of happiness," affirmed Lucinda.

"You were sorely missed at the wedding Sharon, but we did make a toast to you later that day," added Brooksie. "This is way off the subject at hand, but did you receive a request from a Loreli Woods to join a group in your program? She would be a fairly new inmate."

"Yes I did." responded Sharon. "Anita had forewarned me about Loreli's attempt on her husband's life. She told me Mr. Woods was a member in your divorce group. I informed Loreli the groups were filled. The rumor has it that she is awaiting extradition to England in order to stand trial for the murder of another husband. She's been a busy girl. She's not in the general population here. I've only seen her one time and that was in the infirmary. She was waiting to see Dr. Ronan. Hope he has been warned about her.

A bell rang and a group of ten inmates noisily came through the cafeteria doors. They meandered toward one of the cafeteria tables where Sharon was sitting.

Sharon instructed the women to sit down at either side of the table. This was accomplished after much wrangling about who was to sit next to whom. All of a sudden, a loud alarm starts blasting off!

"My God! What's that? yelled Lucinda.

"Keep your panties on deary," said Charotte, "It's nothing to worry your pretty little head over."

A guard strolled over to the group, looked at Sharon and exclaimed, "It seems one of your cell mates is missing. A small amount of fresh blood was discovered in the laundry room. Doc, we are in lockdown. The warden told me to tell you to go ahead with your class or whatever it is you are attempting to do here. Nobody leaves this room till the all clear is given."

"Thank you Ms. White," answered Sharon. "Can you tell us the name of the missing person?"

"No. Not yet. I was told she signed up for this class, but they didn't tell me her name."

The inmates talked amongst themselves. The sound level of chatter was rapidly increasing. Charlotte's face turned ashen, as did Houston's. Two of the inmates grabbed onto each other. All of the women, including Lucinda and Brooksie, showed varying degrees of fear or anxiety. Many were wide-eyed. Both facilitators kept their eyes on Sharon. Sharon appeared calm and in charge, much to the relief of the two social workers.

"Corrina, too bad it's not your fat body that's missing, of course, nobody would miss you. Except maybe your mirror," sneered Wilamina.

"Shut up, Willy. You're just jealous 'cause you couldn't make a buck on your back," challenged Corrina.

"Ladies," Sharon said in a quiet tone, "This news of someone missing is upsetting to most of us in the room, but you will remain civil toward one another. If the majority want to cancel the meeting for today, we can do that. Remember we don't know how long we'll be here, together! Raise your hand if you want to cancel today's program."

Two inmates, Luella, (nicknamed Lu) and Berri raised their hands. They both looked at the others, seeing that they were the only ones with raised hands, lowered theirs.

"Okay. Looks like we are on for today," affirmed Sharon. "Everyone has been instructed as to the rules of conduct, but I'm going to refresh your memories. There will be no swearing, no fighting, everyone gets a turn to talk, no one leaves the room unless nature calls. You will then be accompanied to the rest room by Ms. White.

"Today I'm an observer. Ms. Padilla and Ms. Everett are your instructors. There will be a sixty minute workshop and sixty minutes to discuss, share and ask questions. This group will meet every other Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. until 11:30 a.m. This is a pilot program. The goal is to give each one of you tools to improve your lives while you call this place your home, as well as when you are released. You can drop out. If you choose to drop out, you will not be permitted to attend other workshops for the next six months.

Brooksie began, "I appreciate that you all are wearing name tags. Unlike my coworker Lucinda, I have a hard time remembering names. Lucinda is passing out a questionnaire and a pencil for each of you. Please do not put your name on the questionnaire. We will collect these before you leave today. If you would like a copy of the questionnaire for yourselves, pick one up as you leave the room. I'm going to read the questions out loud, in case anyone has a question.

• Best memory of childhood?

• Worst memory of childhood?

• Happiest time of childhood?

• Best friend?

• What do you consider your best trait, best skill and favorite activity?

• Who do you blame for your incarceration?

• Meaningful losses in your life? (deaths, injuries, illnesses, abandonment, freedom, friendships, partners, health, home, job, trust, self-respect and others)"

Brooksie addressed the guard, "Ms. White would you like to fill out your own?"

"Why not. Might learn something about my own glorious life," she answered.

"Please take the next ten minutes to answer these questions. One side is English and the other side, Spanish." informed Lucinda. Thinking to herself, it's a good thing Sharon made sure all participants could read and write in English or Spanish.

After ten minutes was up, Lucinda asked, "Since this is the first session, we are not starting out with a workshop theme. Brooksie and I would like to get to know you better. Would anyone be willing to volunteer to share what they wrote?" Houston raised her hand first. "I've nothing to lose. My best memory was a puppy mama gave me. I was a little tyke of three years old or maybe I was five. My worst memory, daddy killed the puppy, 'cause he said the pup messed on the floor. Happiest time was with my Nana. She baked cookies just for me. She even held me sometimes when I cried. Worst time ever was when she died.

"I'm not sure what a trait is, but I'm real loyal. It's my loyalty that got me arrested the first time. My favorite activity is cooking chili and playing pool. I'm real good at both. Someday I hope to have another puppy.

"I checked off all the losses, except the health one. I'm still okay, never been really sick. Broke some bones in my face and wrist, running into several of my boyfriends fists, at different times. Once in a while, I sent a few of them to the emergency room. They was too embarrassed to say a female had beat them up." She exchanged a knowing look with others. Muffled snickering could be heard from a few.

"My best friend was Annabelle. We went off in different directions. Sometimes there wasn't enough for me to eat. Annabelle shared her lunch with me. When we were in the same school. We didn't have much of a house. Not enough room for three brothers, me, mom and sometimes dad. Often there was just some stranger, some guy mom brought home. I didn't always get to school. Dad was arrested many times for beating mom or someone else. One of mom's boyfriend's messed with me when I was young, about six or seven years old. All in all, mom did her best. She had a lot of bad luck. She'd bring any jerk home. The last guy was the worst. One day he went crazy. He started to choke her. Her face was turning blue and she had quit fighting back. I hit him with a frying pan over and over. He wouldn't let her go. Then I hit him as hard as I could, same pan. He finally stopped and went down. I'm not proud of what I did, but I had to save her. Later on she blamed me for killing that piece of shit. She told the police I went insane. She was stinking drunk and I don't think she even remembers he was choking her to death. Her neck looked like she has been hanging from a rope. The police believed her, not me. She's not okay in the head, too much booze and crack. I don't blame her. She don't know any better. That's all I wrote.

"Huston, thanks for sharing. You did a good job and this helps us to get to know you a little better. I appreciate your honesty and especially your willingness to go first," expressed Brooksie.

Next, Wilamina raised her hand and blurted out, "I'm next." She looked at Houston and said, "We could be sisters, except I'm black and you're real pale and blonde. Made me sad to hear what you wrote 'cause it's like my life. Want me to read mine teacher?" looking at Brooksie.

"Yes," answered Brooksie. "Please, do and call me Brooksie. Everyone in this room is a teacher. We can all learn from each other. Go ahead Wilamina."

A few of the inmates laughed and Wilamina said, "They're laughing at my name, around here I'm called Willy."

"Do you want us to call you Willy or Wilamina? asked Brooksie.

"I like hearing my real name so Wilamina is okay with me. Let'm laugh. I can't think of a good memory, but I got lots of bad ones. Guess my worst one was the time mama's boyfriend nearly beat her to death. I was five, maybe six years old. I tried to stop him so I bit his leg and he threw me halfway across the room. He hurt mama's head so bad she couldn't talk or walk okay ever again. Then grandma had to take care of me, my two brothers and ma. She did what she could, but she was old and tired and could barely get around herself. She was all crippled up with the aches.

"I can't say nothing about happy times just hard times. Jerome, my older brother died in a car crash. He was seventeen. Royal, the youngest, kinda got lost on drugs. I still think about Jerome. He tried to take care of me and Royal. I was thirteen when he died.

"My friend Shana hurt me bad. She stole money from me several times. I wasn't smart enough to catch on. Guess she needed her dope more'n our friendship. It was her boyfriend who finally ratted her out about stealing from me, 'cause he got mad at her for cheating on him. Bothers me just to talk about Shana."

"Thanks Wilamina for sharing what you could. It took courage to share what you did." added Lucinda. "Do we have another volunteer?

'"Okay. I can do it. You said not to put our name on this, right?" asked Charlotte.

"That's right, Charlotte," responded Lucinda, looking at Charlotte's name tag.

"You can call me Char, if you want to. Everybody does. My best memory was a Christmas. I was seven. My dad, mom, brother and sister were there. We had presents, a tree, a nice dinner and even sang songs.

"My worst memory was the next Christmas because my baby sister was in the hospital and died after a few days. Our house was never the same. Eventually dad left us. Never saw him again.

Mom worked hard and long hours to pay the bills. There were many tough times.

"My happiest time was because Jackson and I got together. I was seventeen years old. He made me laugh. We had some real good times, but he couldn't seem to hold onto a job for longer than a few months. I started working two jobs and he stopped working all together. We needed money, owed every one. He convinced me to help him rob a liquor store. I was only going to drive the car and he would go inside and demand the money. Stupid, lazy Jackson took a gun in, so happens the owner also had a gun. Jackson was shot dead. Here I am for the next fifteen or twenty years. Oh, yeah, I checked off all the losses and added loss of hope and future."

"Thanks Charlotte for your willingness to help us to know a little about your story. Perhaps you will gain hope for your future by the end of our six months," remarked Brooksie.

"Okay. I'll go next," said Corrina. "My worst memory was the death of my baby. I was sixteen and so happy because Jose was happy. We got married in church before she was even born. I don't know what went wrong, but she died a few hours after she was born. I never got to hold her. My 'abuella' told me it was God's punishment. Jose also blamed me and told me his mother said I was a bad girl. His family accused me of tricking Jose into getting me pregnant. My parents had seven other kids and told me to find a job and another place to live. They were ashamed of me and told me so many times.

"Jose divorced me with the church's blessing. I could never get pregnant again. Believe me, I tried with a bunch of other guys, but no baby.

"I put an X by all the losses. I'm a diabetic, have Herpes and high blood pressure. I'm also fat. Never had enough food as a kid.

Never had enough of anything. At least in here you're not too hot or too cold, have your own bed and food three times a day."

"Thanks Corrina for sharing a part of your story. I'm sorry about the loss of your baby, but also for the unwarranted blame thrown on you by the adults," said Brooksie.

"You had your hand up Berri. Would you like to go next?" asked Brooksie.

"Yes." responded Berri. "I lost two babies. My first one died 'bout a week after being born. She was a girl. My second baby was a son. Ali, was only ten months old and my ex-boyfriend beat him because he wouldn't stop crying. My Ali died same day in the hospital. I was working and Sam, my boyfriend was supposed to be taking care of Ali. He threw my baby against the f...... wall. I made sure Sam paid. I poisoned him. He died crying out in pain, just like my Ali. I'm not one bit sorry about Sam. I think about Ali every day. Hope he's waiting for me.

"My best memory and happiest time was with my grandpa when I was little girl. He took me fishing at the beach. He laughed a lot and made me laugh. He drank too much, but he was good to me. I still miss him and Ali. Ali was the cutest little guy you ever did see. I got a picture of him in my cell.

"I checked off everything about the losses. I have high blood pressure. I could drop a few pounds. Never had a house, always in some dumpy apartment. Moved a lot with my ma, that is when she was around. She worked the streets at night. I was always scared at night alone."

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "The Prisoners' Group"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Donna Underwood.
Excerpted by permission of Abbott Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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