A buzzer sounded, and a young, innocent-looking girl carrying a basket peered in. The prison guard, hiding his surprise, ushered her through.
“Right this way, miss,” he said. “You have five minutes.”
“Thank you sir!” she smiled and slipped past him into the room. She slid the basket across the table. Suddenly serious, she eyed at the rumpled thief across from her. “Here’s the last delivery. Will you hold up your end of the deal?”
He peeked under the dishtowel, confirming that there was a milk carton and a dozen lemon cakes as usual. “Oh yes, Susanna. You’ve done admirably. Your payment is assured,” he winked. Satisfied, the girl shook his hand, and left.

The prisoner stood and walked to the phone. “Yes… kittens please… oh, three should do it… kindly address it ‘to Susanna, with thanks’… that’s all thank you.”

Later, in his cell, the man poured the contents of the milk carton (teal ink) into a bucket, dying his pjs into a prison-guard-uniform-like hue. Hiding them in his laundry, he lay down to wait.