Life Sentences

by Tekla Dennison Miller

  Celeste crinkled her nose as though she smelled a container of spoiled milk. “Not exactly the most desirable bachelor.” Celeste tried to imagine Tommy’s visiting card.

  Patterson snickered. “There’s more. Do you want to hear it?”

  Celeste nodded. “It may sound odd, but the more I know about Jane and Tommy the more real they are. Maybe then I’ll be able to handle them with less emotion and more intelligence when you find them and bring them back.”

  “I understand,” Patterson said in a healing, less police tone again. Celeste chuckled and he asked, “What?”

  “Nothing important. You just sound like my therapist, if I had one.”

  “I guess I’m glad you want to know all you can because it helps with grief. Besides, I did major in psychology in college.”

  Celeste lifted the plate of scones. “Have another?” He would make a perfect counselor if he could stay away from the more conventional police clip. Patterson raised his right hand like a traffic cop and patted his taut, well-exercised stomach with his other hand. “Thanks, but no.”

  Celeste put the plate down, “Please, go on then.”

  “Let’s see. This isn’t Johnson’s first affair, escape, or murder. He absconded once when he was nineteen, just before he was to be sentenced on a burglary charge. He eventually was arrested for assault and sentenced to prison.”

  How much had Patterson memorized about these characters? He recited as though he were reading from a police report.

  “Johnson served only three years and was paroled.” Patterson stopped and checked Celeste’s expression to ensure she was still listening. Celeste nodded encouragement.

  “While on parole,” he said, “Johnson skipped the state with another married woman, Agnes Trudeau, after killing his crime partner, Denny Richards. Richards once described Johnson as a gun freak. The two were high on LSD and fooling around with guns in a remote, wooded area in Lapeer County when Johnson killed Richards.”

  Though Celeste wanted more than anything to hearwhat Patterson was saying, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to Pilar. How could she have been involved with such creatures? Of course Pilar was a warm person always ready to lend a hand to anyone. But them?

  Patterson released enough air from his mouth that Celeste expected to see him deflate like an emptying balloon. He must have realized her mind had wandered. When she reconnected with him, Patterson resumed his story telling. While he talked, Celeste visualized a B-movie. She laid her head on her arm. Patterson’s recounting of Johnson’s gruesome past paraded before Celeste as though it were all happening to her.

  A FEW MONTHS AFTER he murdered Denny Richards, Johnson told Agnes that he believed the coast was clear for them to go back to Detroit. He wasn’t aware that both the FBI and Detroit Police were keeping surveillance, anticipating his return. Johnson dropped Agnes off at her trailer in Hazel Park and headed out on an expedition to scope the area for potential jobs; illegal, of course.

  As a man often on the look-out for new women, he picked up Agnes’ fifteen-year-old niece, Candy. She, like Tommy, had many brushes with the criminal justice system and was always braced for an adventure, as she put it, “to get me outta the house and away from this boring life.”

  Johnson was sure Candy was ready for the ultimate hustle. He was positive she’d do anything he wanted. Shelater admitted she’d have followed him anywhere.

  Their brief relationship ended when the two were tooling the streets of Detroit and an FBI agent spotted the couple. The agent pursued them. But Johnson wasn’t prepared to give himself up. He tried to run down the agent.

  Backup had been called when the agent first saw Tommy and Candy. The attempted vehicle assault was witnessed by the Detroit Police who apprehended Johnson. When the two were searched Candy was carrying a .357 magnum. She was turned over to the juvenile authorities and Tommy was booked at the county jail.

  Having no solid evidence to charge Johnson with Richard’s murder, he only got twelve months for the escape. Carolyn Williams, Candy’s mother and Agnes’ sister, had enough of that culprit and his constant ability to get less punishment than he deserved. So she went to the police. Mrs. Williams reported, “It’s terrible that my sister Agnes had to be stalked by that animal, Tommy, but he’s gotten too close to my own front door this time.”

  After that she chronicled events that should only be read in a Steven King novel. “Tommy Johnson told me himself he killed that Richards guy,” Mrs. Williams reported to the investigating detective. “He didn’t want to be arrested and planned to flee the state. But the clincher was, he insisted Agnes go with him.”

  Since Agnes had broken up with him, Carolyn Williams reported, Tommy had to devise a means to persuade her torun off with him. It wasn’t romantic. He dragged Agnes from Mrs. Williams’ house where she had sought refuge and took Agnes back to her own trailer.

  Patterson’s narrative created confusing and outrageous images that swirled in Celeste’s mind like leaves in a dark, disturbed pool. Hypnotized, Celeste lifted her head and actually believed she was with Tommy and Agnes. Like the voyeur Marcus had accused her of being, she saw every move they made. Every touch was realistic. Suddenly Celeste became an eyewitness.

  TOMMY DRAGGED AGNES ACROSS the trailer pressing the gun barrel to her head with one hand while his other encircled her neck. She kicked and screamed, “Let go of me. Help,” she yelled. “Someone help me.” Her pleas went unanswered. No one in the park interfered in what appeared to be a normal domestic quarrel.

  Tommy shoved her to the bathroom floor and kicked her in the stomach. She gasped for air like a fish thrown into a boat’s lazarette. The pleasure of the cool linoleum against her cheek lasted only seconds. Tommy ripped her clothes away, leaving her naked on the floor. She reached for the toilet. Before she was able to lift herself, Tommy grabbed a fistful of hair. He pulled her to her feet. Blood gurgled from her mouth, down her chin and onto a bare breast.

  “Just kill me and get it over,” she begged. Every labored word was like a thorn piercing her throat.

  “I just might do that,” Tommy chuckled. “If you don’t do what I want.”

  She wanted to sleep.

  As Tommy manipulated her body like a rag, he stood her on a stool. Within minutes Tommy looped one end of a belt around her neck and the other around the fixed shower curtain bar. She needed to fight, but she was so weighted, she couldn’t move.

  Tommy rummaged through a vanity drawer and found nail clippers. His victim calmed a little, thinking he was going to trim his nails as he convinced her to … to what? Be his steady girl again?

  He opened and positioned the clippers to prepare for the task. He turned to his victim, eyes round, dark, huge. He circled in front and said, “I’m ready. Are you?”

  No time to answer. The room filled with an insane wail like an angry wild cat or coyotes on a chase. Blood dripped from her breast. The wailing came from her.

  Tommy snipped pieces of skin off her body while he chanted, “She’ll go with me.” Snip. “She’ll not go with me.” Snip.

  The victim squirmed with each slice and tried to free herself. Tommy laughed, head thrown back, showing yellow teeth and dark spaces edged in red gums. Then he stopped abruptly. “You better not move, darlin. You don’t want to hang yourself, now do ya?”

  Though at that moment she believed hanging would bebetter than what he was doing, she begged for him to take her with him to Florida. It was the only way to stay alive.

  “THREE MONTHS LATER AGNES was found with Tommy when he was arrested at his father’s home in Fort Meyers.” Patterson’s hand lighting on Celeste’s shoulder brought her back to the present and out of that nightmare.

  Celeste looked out the window at the last of the day’s sun rays bouncing across Lake St. Clair. “What?” she asked. “What did you say?”

  “Mrs. Brookstone, have you been listening at all?” Patterson sounded a little irritated about having rambled on if she hadn’t listened.
>
  “Of course.” Celeste placed a hand on her chest to suppress the remaining twinges. She searched for blood seeping through the blue silk. She turned to Patterson, elated that he and not Tommy was in the room. She seemed adrift as though she had just returned to earth after a near death experience. “Please go on. I’m listening,” Celeste assured Patterson. She had listened all too well to that incredible saga. Yet she couldn’t explain to him or herself what had happened. Patterson hesitated, rubbed his chin several times, and then resumed. “By the time Pilar met Tommy Johnson at Hawk Haven he was at the end of his sentences for escape and attempted murder.”

  “It’s hard to believe he wasn’t charged with Richards’ murder,” Celeste said. She tried a sip of coffee. It refusedto stay down.

  “The judge,” Detective Patterson’s hand dropped from her shoulder, “felt there wasn’t enough evidence to charge him because Agnes claimed she couldn’t recall what Johnson had told her about Denny Richards’ death. So the judge agreed to accept Johnson’s plea of attempted murder.”

  “After what Johnson did to her, she protected him?” Celeste spat out. “How could she?” Anger tensed every muscle. “Johnson would have still been in jail and not on the loose.” Celeste had a hard time breathing, but added, “And Pilar would still be alive.”

  Patterson ushered Celeste to the couch. “Don’t blame Agnes. She was scared. So were all his other so-called friends. One told Lapeer police that, and I quote, ‘Tommy goes crazy when he gets mad and you don’t know what he’s going to do. I know I don’t want him mad at me.’ End of quote.”

  From what Pilar told Celeste about that nurse, she was a confident, not frightened woman. “What about Jane Carson? Was she scared, too?”

  “She’s somewhat of a mystery. Best we can tell, she likes excitement. She’s like Candy.”

  “If you’re trying to tell me she did all this because she was bored, it isn’t helping.” Celeste raised her hand to her mouth and then to her forehead. She massaged the hair line.

  “No. But you did ask to know more about Jane Carsonand I’m doing my best.” Patterson sat next to Celeste. “We also discovered Tommy wasn’t her first prison affair. Mrs. Carson had already been reprimanded for over-familiarity with prisoners.”

  “God.” Celeste pounded her fist into a sofa pillow. “How could they let her stay employed?”

  Patterson shrugged. “She had a good attorney in the arbitration hearing, I guess.” He paused. “Despite her flaws though,” he stumbled over the words as he tried to find some redeeming quality in Carson, “she couldn’t shake her maternal duties. She must’ve convinced Johnson to help kidnap her children.”

  Patterson stood and paced. He displayed a restless side to him Celeste hadn’t seen before. He tugged at the blinds’ cord, opening and closing them. Sunlight striped his face and caused flashes like a blinking neon sign. He turned to Celeste again. “Jane called her husband and said she was coming home if he would send her the money. Mr. Carson obliged and wired money to her in Florida. Instead of returning to him, she and Tommy used the funds to fly home and take the children.”

  Innocent children in the hands of that mother. Celeste curled into a fetal position on the couch and gave into another episode of grief. She clutched a throw pillow to her chest and rocked back and forth moaning a chant, “It can’t be, it can’t be.”

  Detective Patterson sat beside Celeste. “I’m telling youeverything I know because this information will be in the papers in due time.” His voice was tranquilizing. He rested a hand on her arm. “I’d rather you hear all this from me than some obscure, prying reporter.”

  “I know,” Celeste could hardly whisper the words. The room was so quiet she heard the engines of a passing freighter on the lake. She lifted to a sitting position. She and Detective Patterson remained seated side by side for a long time without speaking. What else could they say? Exhaustion crept into every muscle. Even Celeste’s brain seemed too tired to go on.

  Patterson finally said, “At any rate, because the FBI found Johnson’s prints at that Bluff motel, the positive identification reports, and another victim, the hiker, Southfield Police are willing to work with the TV people.” Patterson considered Celeste for several moments. “You’ll be interviewed also. Do you still want to do this?”

  “Of course.” Celeste jumped up. She was woozy and steadied herself against the couch’s arm before Patterson noticed. “It’s more than Pilar now.” She flailed her arms. “Who knows where those two evil beings will stop?”

  chapter twenty-two

  SHARING

  SEVERAL DAYS LATER, DETECTIVE Patterson appeared at Celeste’s condo. After she hung up his trench coat, she announced, “If you’re going to be a regular visitor, I think I should know your first name.” She had barely seen his full name on the ID he flashed at her the first day they met.

  “Jim, well, James,” he smiled, “after my dad.” He proudly explained that he and his father both graduated from the University of Illinois. Jim even joined his father’s fraternity.

  Celeste pictured the two of them on the fifty-yard-line cheering their beloved Illini. “Coffee?” she asked, and lifted the pot from the counter

  “Please,” he said. “And if you have any of those scones, I’d take one of them, too.” His grin indicated his anticipation of the tasty treat.

  Celeste laughed heartily. It was a good feeling after so many weeks of grief. “The truth comes out. It’s not my good looks, it’s my cooking you’re after.”

  “It’s both,” the beguiling Jim said. Celeste imaginedhis father saying the same thing to his mother. A pang of jealousy struck her.

  Celeste placed the plate of scones and coffee in front of Jim. She stood opposite him on the other side of the bar and sensed he came with news about Tommy and Jane. “What does bring you here, Detective Patterson?”

  “Jim, call me Jim.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Jim laid a large manila envelope on the counter. “I want you to see this before you watch “America’s Most Wanted” or hear it in the news.”

  Cautiously, Celeste opened the envelope and extracted the contents. A similar scene with Max marched across her memory. Today’s envelope though, held formal paperwork, a police log. Investigators made abbreviated written entries for each lead in their quest to find Pilar’s killer or killers.

  “Read it,” Jim urged. “You may know most of this, but sometimes the day-to-day events in black and white strike harder at us than a verbal report. Those often sound like stories rather than the real thing. This,” he pointed at the packet, “is the real thing.”

  When Celeste started her review of the material, Jim softly added, “If you have any questions as you go along, just ask.” Then he bit into the fresh scone.

  July 8 Tommy Johnson and his father Hal Johnson at Custom Sportsmen Supply, Palm Beach Blvd., Fort Meyers, Florida purchased a S&W 9MM auto. Witness – Pam Walker.

  July 13 Bulls-eye Sports, Jane Carson purchased one box S&W 9MM hollow point ammo.

  July 17 Brookstone, Pilar — Dead on I-696 from two gun shot wounds to the head. Two 9MM shell casings found in car. ‘03 Subaru

  Celeste put the papers down and drank some cold coffee. “I’m not sure I can read any more of this. It’s so emotionless. It’s such a casual narrative about the purchase of the gun that killed my daughter.”

  “It’s a part of the police file. No sentiment should be shown.” Jim’s voice was barely audible. “Even if we feel it.” He paused. “It will be worse hearing this on TV. But it’s going to get even harder at the trial. Hearing a detective, even me, presenting a detached accounting of evidence can be heart wrenching.”

  Celeste fingered the pages. “I know, but it’s so tough.” She bit her lower lip to stop its tremor. “I just want all this to go away.”

  Jim’s face softened so that there was hardly a line visible. “The more you hear or read these facts, the more prepared you will be for the trial and TV. It’s j
ust like the day you wanted to hear all about Tommy and Jane.” He lifted oneeyebrow, indicating she had to do that.

  Celeste was comforted for the moment that Jim, like Max, had become as obsessed by Pilar’s murder as if she were a wife and daughter of their own. Marcus had hardly shown interest in the case. Celeste picked up the report and resumed reading.

  July 19 Patterson interviewed Chad Wilbanks in Hawk Haven. Wilbanks stated he had heard Brookstone lost a lot of money and wanted to know if it was true.

  Reading those cold words made Celeste queasy. Wilbanks asked about nothing else, except how much of his inheritance would be gone. It confirmed that all he wanted from Pilar was money. Celeste paced the living room while she read the rest. She hoped movement would ease the hate boiling inside her.

  July 19 Patterson interviewed Keli Lawrence, Citizen’s Bank – handled the $25,000 withdrawal for Brookstone on 7/17 all in $100 bills.

  July 19 Bulls-eye Sports and Shooters Supply – Hal Johnson purchased a .12 gage shotgun, .45 cal. Cap & ball, accompanied by W/M and B/F.

  Celeste stared at the report and asked, “Does Tommy Johnson have a mother?”

  “That’s an odd question,” Jim answered, sounding surprised by the query.

  “This report,” she held the papers out toward him, “says nothing about his mother, only his father, who seems to be an accomplice. So, I’m curious.”

  Jim tilted his head to the side. He looked sympathetic when he said, “From what we can gather, Tommy’s mother left him and his father when Tommy was around five-years-old. No one has heard from, or seen her since.”

  Celeste fought back tears. “I’ll never understand a mother who could do that. But then, how do you explain a father like Hal Johnson who helps his son commit crimes, even murder?”