Lipstick and Lies by Margit Liesche Read Free Book Online Page A

it, but I thought she might as well quit her whining. Her treatment was governed by wartime rules and, according to what Dante had said, the government’s position was not likely to change anytime soon.
    Our breakfast hour over, we shoved our trays back through the food slot. Irina and Billie strolled to the opposite end of the cellblock, where Billie had left her cigarettes; I accepted the Countess’ invitation to resume our places at the table.
    Immediately, she leaned toward me. “Like you, I am wrongly accused,” she whispered. “I am an FBI pawn, in jail due to a breach of trust. People are working to obtain my release, but the process is slow. We are stymied at every turn. My fiancé, Mr. Butler, he was there when I was promised immunity. He will act as a witness, corroborate what they said.
Immunity!”
    I bent closer. “Oh?”
    The Countess flicked her cellmates a stern look. “Those girls don’t understand the nuances of my case. They think everyone thrown in jail, even those who are guilty, claim they are innocent.”
    “Yeah, I noticed.”
    “I am not guilty,” she said staunchly, “and the government’s treatment of me goes beyond unreasonable. They have cut me off from the outside world. They censor what I read, delivering only news reports meant to let me know how badly the war goes for the Axis, how I am despised by the press, and also by the public. They allow no visitors, not a lawyer, not my fiancé, it is only their agents who come.”
    Her gaze flitted to Billie and Irina again. “While I have been grateful for their company, I have been without an equal with whom I might discuss more sophisticated and urgent matters.” Tears welled in her eyes before she could turn away.
    While I had no sympathy for a fascist spy, particularly one who also came across as a bigoted snob, I saw my break. Reaching across the table, I patted her hand lightly. “It’s none of my business, but if it would make you feel better to discuss things…”
    She pulled her hand from under mine and dabbed her eyes. “You are the only one who thinks it is none of your business. The press, the public, everyone would like to crucify me. Even the other prisoners would like to see me strung up. They call me names, Judas, skunk,
verrater
,
hure
, traitor of traitors, names you have not heard before.” Ah, but I had. Last night. “But what do they know?”
    The Countess foraged in her jumpsuit pockets, extracting a pack of Camels and a mother-of-pearl holder, promptly stuffing it with one of the cigarettes. She took a drag and, scrunching her mouth sideways, let a long stream of smoke escape. “What I would like them to know is that it is the proud and pure all-American FBI who are the traitors. It is they who have deceived me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I have done the citizens of America a wonderful service. I helped the FBI to entrap a bona fide ring of spies. I should be honored, not punished!”
    She should be committed to a loony bin
was what I was beginning to think.
    “But what did they do?” she went on. “After promising that I would receive special consideration they lock me behind bars like a common criminal.”
    I glanced at the ruby and diamond ring, then nodded in the general direction of her cell. “But your special needs and comforts
are
being met.”
    “The privacy? The little luxuries?” she whispered in a shaky voice. “Not enough. Not nearly enough.”
    The four cells in our cellblock spilled into the common area, a caged open space shared by the inmates. It was where we took our meals and where, before I retired for my nap, the Countess and I had huddled in private. Unfortunately, before I was able to bring up the industrial spy, Otto Renner, Irina and Billie returned to our table, bringing the intimate exchange to an end. Afterwards, I had moseyed back to my bunk under the guise of wanting to read. What I really wanted was some quiet time to digest what I had learned in our initial