Life Sentences

by Tekla Dennison Miller

  “It’s hard to comprehend,” Jim agreed. “Maybe he’s scared, too.”

  Celeste shook her head as she continued. The papers she held felt heavier.

  July 20 Patterson took call — Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, Detroit, were on I-696 where they observed a W/M next to a small car standing upright near to driver’s window.

  July 20 Palmer interviewed George Livingston, B/M, Detroit, who observed a latemodel Ford pulled off the road and behind a small car parked on the shoulder and occupied by W/F.

  July 21 Patterson interviewed Willy Samuels that at approximately 11:1145 A.M. on 7/17 he observed a W/M standing beside a small foreign type car on I-696 east of Inkster – W/M was standing straight up.

  July 21 Tommy Johnson rented #103 mobile home off I-23 outside Ann Arbor. Donna McGregger, trailer #102, ID’d photo of Tommy Johnson.

  July 22 Palmer interviewed Cleo Spangler, a Scott Prison nurse. Cleo Spangler and Pilar Brookstone had a conversation at the Del-Rio Bar on July 16. Victim told Spangler that there was strong possibility Chad Wilbanks would be out of prison in a few weeks. She told Spangler about having met Tommy Johnson at Hawk Haven.

  Cleo’s face flashed across Celeste’s mind. Why hadn’t she tried to stop Pilar? What good was it for Cleo to tell Celeste about her concerns the day of Pilar’s funeral or talk to the police after Pilar died? She wiped the moisture from her eyes so she could see the paper and went on.

  July 24 Palmer interviewed Carl Simmons W/M/44 of Novi. Saw a dark color Subaru occupied by a W/F and a W/M being followed by an attractive B/F in a late model Ford. Both vehicles pulled onto the shoulder simultaneously. Simmons can ID B/F.

  “All these people saw the two cars and no one stopped. Didn’t any of them suspect something was wrong?” Celeste quizzed.

  “Like most drivers, they’re more curious than concerned. Their glance at the two cars led those we interviewed to believe there was no trouble.” Jim breathed deeply. “But even if they did have some suspicion, most people wouldn’t get involved, only after the fact. Like now.”

  “Umm” Celeste silently cursed each one. The freeway witnesses still should have stopped. Was that an unfair conclusion? She didn’t care. Celeste quickly read the rest of the report. Recorded in the last portion, Officer Leonard whom she met at the prison, saw Jane driving in downtown Marquette with Tommy a few days after he had escaped. Just before that sighting the manager of the Super 8 confirmed Tommy Johnson was registered there on July 16.

  Celeste wanted to know why they hadn’t reported the escapee. Tommy’s picture was plastered on local TV and in the newspapers. They were like the freeway observers. They didn’t want to get involved until they were forced.

  The hotel employee also said Tommy was picked up the next day by an African-American woman and at least one child. For just a second Celeste’s heart went out to those children. She lowered the report to her side. How could Jane Carson claim she loved her children and then place them in such danger? How could a mother be that negligent?

  “Is something the matter?” Patterson’s voice interrupted her reflection.

  “No,” she shook her head. “I only have a few more entries to read.”

  “Good.” Patterson circled his foot around the bar stool’s lower rung and finished the scone.

  The last item Celeste read further implicated Tommy’s father. It stated that on July 29 Paula Neil of Western Gun Traders sold two .357 Magnum revolvers to Hal Johnson accompanied by a white male and an African-American female. Was it the gun that killed the Colorado hiker?

  Celeste finished the entire police log and returned the tear dampened pages to Patterson. Seeing the whole case in a written report made the offenders even more real and despicable. The matter-of-fact way in which the report was stated also made it clear that most likely Pilar was only one of Chad and Tommy’s victims. How sad to think that there were probably more casualties in the world because of them.

  Patterson lifted his brows after he replaced the packet into the envelope as if waiting for Celeste to make a comment. When none came, he said, “I repeat: Reading this is tough and brings up all the horrid facts, some you weren’t aware of, but …”

  “But I did need to see them. I know. Especially, like you said, since I’ll have to confront these issues sooner or later in a less caring environment.”

  “Yes, well…” Patterson shifted from one foot to the other like a very shy boy. It was the first time Celeste found the detective without words.

  “I need some time to put all this into perspective,” Celeste announced. “It’s hard to believe that people can be so calculating and cruel.”

  Patterson frowned and smiled at the same time. His mouth stretched to a grin but turned down at the corners. “Take care,” he then said. “If you need anything, especially before your TV interview, you know where to get me.”

  “Yes, thank you. You have been very kind.” Celeste let him out the door and thought about Hal Johnson, Tommy’s father. What kind of man would aid Tommy as he did? Or as Jim suggested, was he too frightened of his own son to do anything else?

  “Monster,” Celeste declared to Phoenix. “Tommy’s nothing but a monster.”

  But what was Jane’s excuse? Love? Excitement? Or was she some kind of fiend, too?

  chapter twenty-three

  AMERICA’S MOST WANTED

  MAX AND JIM STOOD in the doorway of Celeste’s condo. Both displayed sheepish grins.

  “What on earth brings the two of you here on this of all days?” Celeste asked, hoping for good news. Standing together, Celeste realized how different they appeared. Jim’s tall, lean body towered over Max’s stout one. As pressed and intact as Jim’s clothing was, Max’ outfit was unkempt. In fact, he looked more like Columbo. The two men standing before her were as disparate as the characters in The Odd Couple.

  Max looked at Jim who stared back at him and nodded. Max faced Celeste and said, “We want to be with you when that producer from the TV show interrogates you.”

  Celeste chuckled. “You mean talks with me, don’t you?”

  Max laughed. A hint of red showed on his cheeks. “Yes, of course,” he answered.

  “Come on in and take a seat in the living room. The producer is due here any moment.” As soon as Celeste saidthat, she had another question. “How did you know when the producer was going to arrive anyway?”

  Jim shrugged, “I’m a cop.”

  Celeste motioned them to chairs. “Do you sense trouble with this group, Jim?”

  “No,” he answered and sat on the edge of one chair, elbows resting against his knees and hands clasped. “I,” Jim raised his eyes at Max, “we, thought you might like a little support.”

  Max slid into a wing-back chair near the fire place, as comfortable as if he had reclined there all his life. “Their questions can be tough,” he chimed in. “You’ll be forced to remember some emotional moments. These producers leave nothing to the imagination. It can be rather difficult for you on your own.”

  Celeste handed each man a cup of coffee. She was now thankful Jim insisted she read that police log. She also was enchanted by Jim and Max’s need to protect her.

  “Though I believe there is little left that can bring me to my knees,” Celeste said to both but focused on Patterson, “at least not the way the first news about Pilar did, Jim, I’m glad you’re both here.” She sat on the couch next to Phoenix and scratched his ears. He rubbed his whiskers against her fingers. “Besides, I can always use your support. It gives me the confidence that I’ve made the right decision to go forward with this TV show”

  Before either responded, the door bell rang. “That mustbe the interrogator now,” Celeste teased.

  Max’s face reddened again as the two men tittered. Both followed Celeste to the door like bodyguards. Before she opened it, she turned to Max and Jim with hands on her hips. They retreated to their chairs and coffee. As she watched them go to their respective areas, she was curious how often they talked to each oth
er. And when did they decide to be there together?

  DOTTIE CLARK WASN’T THE kind of interviewer Celeste had expected to show up that morning. The beautiful African-American woman in a red suit bounded through the door trailed by a man with a camera. Her purposeful stride opened the slit on the right side of her straight skirt, exposing a long slender leg. “Hi,” she said as she offered her hand and introduced herself as the segment’s producer.

  “Hi,” Celeste answered, caught off guard by the perfumed breeze Ms. Clark created when she passed and marched straight toward Max and Jim.

  “And you two are?” she asked with enviable assuredness.

  Jim and Max stood and introduced themselves by name only. Celeste jumped in. “Max is the warden at Hawk Haven Prison where my daughter Pilar worked. And where she met Tommy Johnson and Chad Wilbanks.” Celeste directed her attention to Jim. “Jim is a detective with the Southfield Police Department and the primary on Pilar’s murder case.”

  “Umm,” Ms. Clark answered, “I spoke to you a few days ago, didn’t I, detective?”

  “Yes, and we set up an appointment to meet later this week.”

  “Yes, yes, but I didn’t expect the two of you today. Hopefully,” she said to Celeste as though Jim and Max weren’t in the room, “they won’t get in the way.”

  “They’re concerned friends, Ms. Clark,” Celeste answered with some vinegar in her voice. “I convinced them to go along with this TV thing even though they prefer more conventional and less exploitive methods.”

  Max cleared his throat and Jim rocked from one foot to the other as all three of them watched Dottie Clark’s caramel-colored complexion deepen. She appeared miffed that Celeste had more control than she at that moment.

  “Shall we get this over, Ms. Clark?” Celeste again motioned for everyone to sit. “I have gathered several copies of pictures for you. They are of Pilar and Chad, and Pilar’s apartments. I hope they may be useful.”

  Dottie Clark crossed her legs and took the photos. When the skirt fell to one side and revealed too much thigh, Max and Jim shifted. Celeste chuckled at their discomfort and Ms. Clark’s unabashed attitude.

  As Dottie Clark rifled through the pictures, Celeste told her, “At the bottom of the stack are a few letters between Pilar and Chad that made references to Tommy Johnson and Jane Carson.” Celeste didn’t see the need to supply her with all the letters. Just enough to give the producer ideas to help locate the villains and not disclose anything more that might further damage Pilar’s reputation.

  “Can you speak freely” Ms. Clark asked as she eyed Max and Jim.

  “Certainly. They know more about Pilar and this case than anyone.” It pained her to admit once again that she knew less about Pilar’s life than a cop and Pilar’s former boss.

  “I’m curious, though,” Celeste said. “What made you decide to do Pilar’s story?”

  “Easy,” Clark said. “Her story is about a beautiful, young female doctor who falls for a convict who may have set her up to get killed for money. Great stuff.”

  Celeste now was uncertain about the interview she faced. Ms. Clark lacked subtlety and had no concern that her factual and uncharitable rendition of Pilar’s death would wound Celeste. She suddenly felt used. Pilar’s story would get Dottie Clark kudos and make the studio money. Would it also catch Tommy and Jane?

  Celeste needed to put her hurt feelings aside. Nothing could be as important as getting Carson and Johnson put away forever. So she answered Ms. Clark’s prying questions with calm dignity.

  THREE HOURS AFTER THEIR initial introductions, Dottie Clark and her male partner, sped out the door as unruffled as they had arrived. Celeste, on the other hand, felt shreddedinto tiny pieces and in need of a long hot bubble bath, her cure for almost everything.

  Max and Jim went to the door with Celeste. All three watched the human whirlwind speed away in a cloud of dust. “Well?” Celeste asked as she closed the door and faced the two men whose mouths were agape.

  Jim spoke first. “She’s a typical reporter type. She’s young, attractive, tough, and caustic.”

  Something like Pilar, until she met Chad Wilbanks.

  “She won’t let anything stand in her way of a good story,” Max added. “I’ve dealt with a lot like her through the years.”

  “Me too,” Jim agreed. “I usually don’t trust them and don’t like them.”

  “What I’m really asking you two is whether you think there is any chance Tommy and Jane will be turned in by a viewer?”

  “Oh. Hard to say,” Jim said.

  “Don’t know,” Max shrugged.

  They remained huddled in the foyer for a few more moments until Celeste announced, “This conversation doesn’t leave me with much enthusiasm about what I just did.”

  Max hugged her shoulders and quickly released his grip when his eyes settled on Jim. “It’s the way the reporters and others in that business are trained to do their jobs,” Max said. “They can’t let their true emotions get in the way or make them biased.”

  “Like the police,” Jim reminded Celeste.

  “I suppose.” Celeste held the door handle. “I’m glad now that you two were here. I needed to believe someone was on my side and sharing my pain.” She smiled, lips quivering. “Thanks.” She kissed both on the cheek. “Now, I need to relax by myself for a while so I can breathe freely again. After what I went through today, I know I have to deal with my anxiety about what’s ahead for me.”

  “Sure,” Jim said. “Take care of yourself.” He left first as though he knew Max wanted a few moments alone with Celeste.

  “May I call you later to see how you’re doing?” Max asked. “I swear I won’t bug you.” He held up his right hand as if taking an oath.

  “Oh, Max,” Celeste clasped his arm, “you can never be anything but a pleasure to have around. Anyway, I should be ready for some wholesome and fun dinner conversation.”

  His eyes brightened as a huge smile invaded his face. “Great! I’ll call later and we can figure out where we’ll go for dinner.”

  “We’ll eat here. I don’t want to leave the comfort of my home right now. Don’t bother to call. Just come around seven.”

  “Right. I’ll bring the wine.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “See you later then.” He almost skipped to elevator.

  Leaning against the closed door, Celeste doubted she could overcome her exhaustion even to take that bath. Finally, she pushed away and headed for the tub. A short nap, too. Then she’d fix an easy but tasty dinner. Perhaps pasta in tomato basil sauce with shrimp, a salad, and a baguette. Hopefully, later she could laugh a lot over silly things with that wonderful man.

  chapter twenty-four

  CAPTURED

  NURSE AND PRISON ESCAPEE ARRESTED IN DEATH OF PRISON DOCTOR.

  The Detroit Free Press headline punched Celeste between the eyes. Coming face to face with those two villains, Tommy Johnson and Jane Carson, could easily turn Celeste into a murderer like them. What mother wouldn’t feel that way? Despite that vengeful bent, Celeste was anxious for the whole nightmare to be finally over. Then she could get on with her own life, such as it was without Pilar.

  Celeste reread the paragraph that fascinated her the most:

  The Sacramento Sheriff’s Department said they arrested Mrs. Carson on a shoplifting charge. When officers checked her out through the Automated Fingerprint and FBI computerized reporting systems, they learned she was wanted with Tommy Johnson on federal warrants. Officers said they convinced Carson to tell themwhere Johnson was. When authorities tried to apprehend Johnson, he grabbed a revolver, but Johnson was subdued before he could fire it.

  Celeste cut out the article and glued it into an album along with all the others she had saved. It might seem a grisly keepsake, but Celeste had no intention of forgetting one moment of the whole morbid affair surrounding Pilar’s murder. It was one way to preserve her whole memory of Pilar. As she pasted the latest information in place, she again went over what possi
ble reason persuaded Jane Carson to turn on Tommy.

  Celeste picked up the newspaper and stared at the hole where the article had been. Perhaps the police offered Jane leniency. More likely they told Jane she would be solely charged with Pilar’s murder if she didn’t reveal Tommy’s location. Whatever it was, Jane Carson informed on her partner quickly.

  Dan Oliver, the Oakland County prosecutor, called earlier that morning to let Celeste know that the extradition order was signed and the two fugitives would be back in Michigan within a week. Celeste envisioned Tommy and Jane, wearing orange jump suits, chained separately to an airplane seat along with several other offenders.

  It was hard to believe it had been almost a year to the day of Pilar’s murder.

  The store clerk not only caught Jane Carson red handed, he recognized her from “America’s Most Wanted”. Celeste was thrilled Jane was nabbed and that no more family skeletons would be hauled out of the closet and shown to millions of viewers in follow-up shows.

  Jane foolishly told the police her name was Jane Johnson. That, along with her finger prints, the TV show, and picture nailed her. Was she too tired to come up with a more creative alias, or did she want the chase over? What kind of life could it have been if she had to resort to shoplifting? Had she given up to protect her children from Tommy? Had she known the game was over once their crimes aired on nationwide TV?

  Maybe Jane was weary of looking over her shoulder and living a lie, especially running with the children she claimed she loved so much. Celeste imagined it took repetitive tutoring to train the children to accept their new identity. Once reunited with their father they would have to learn who they were all over again. Those poor confused children suffered the most.

  Celeste regretted she would never know the answers to her questions or understand a woman like Jane.

  It wasn’t just Jane’s negligence that got them caught. Tommy Johnson followed almost the identical escape route he took with Agnes Trudeau five years before through Florida, Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Arizona. What did you expect from a convict who escaped within six months of parole and one year of his final discharge? “Tommy’s not a rocket scientist, is he, Phoenix?” The cat stretched and ignored her as he settled into a methodic licking of his paw that he wiped across his whiskers. Or, could the escape have been all Jane’s idea, because she couldn’t visit Tommy?