Life Sentences (27 page)

Celeste grinned. “There’s something to be said for the serenity of the north.”

“Mrs. Brookstone …”

“Call me Celeste, please. If we’re going to be sleuths together, we should be on first name basis.” She questioned her real motive for the intimacy, especially after the care she took in choosing her dinner outfit, a most flattering royal blue dress.

Max smiled, displaying a healthy set of teeth. “Good idea, Celeste,” he answered. “Let me get started by telling you right off that I had Chad Wilbanks’ cell searched when I got the news about Pilar’s murder.” He hesitated and studied her face as though looking for a sign that he might be treading too fast on painful territory.

“Go on,” Celeste encouraged and dabbed the napkin at the corner of her mouth. “I’m here to find out everything I can, no matter how disturbing.”

“Well,” he sighed. “We know Chad was good friends with an escapee named Tommy Johnson.” He stopped again. Celeste nodded to indicate he could keep going.

“We also suspected Chad was involved with your daughter. There were rumors. And she was so eager to help the inmates. I tried to warn her right from the beginning about getting in a relationship with a prisoner.”

Celeste now understood Pilar’s rants about how Warden Whitefeather thought she was vulnerable. He was correct and Pilar never liked it when her weaknesses showed. “What did you find in Chad’s cell when you searched it?” Celeste wasn’t confident she was prepared for his answer, but she had to know.

Max sipped his wine. “Unfortunately, nothing that ties him to Tommy since he escaped. But we found these.” He picked up a large envelope from the floor and handed it to Celeste. “You may wish to look at the contents later. They’re rather revealing, and provocative.”

Celeste took his offering. The touch of their hands created an intense warmth where their skin met. For a second she mulled over the idea of revealing the note Patterson found by Pilar’s telephone about meeting Tommy. She reconsidered. She’d better not say anything until there was no question about Max’s motives.

“Or if you’d like, we can go over them together.” Max sounded hopeful.

“I may need your support, or perhaps your explanation of what’s in here.” She lifted the packet. “I’ll have coffee sent to my room.”

“Good.” That charming smile spread across his face.

Celeste studied Max’s hardy, north country features. How could Pilar have missed that man’s warmth? Perhaps Celeste was too gullible in her vulnerable state. Perhaps she saw more pleasing elements in him than she should because she wanted to. Was that what Pilar did with Chad?

“Something the matter?” Max asked. “You’ve gotten pensive on me.”

“No. Just going over how much I didn’t know about Pilar’s personal affairs.” A lump formed in Celeste’s throat.

Max patted her hand. “None of us know all we should or want to know about our children. My sons all left the state and it’s hard to keep track of them now.”

Celeste recoiled. She had forgotten he could be married. As though he read her mind, Max explained, “My wife died five years ago in a car accident outside Muskeegan. That’s when I decided it was time to come home.”

Ashamed that her inner thoughts were so easily unmasked, heat flooded into her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t …”

Max shrugged and stood. He pulled her chair out. “Let’s get this ugly deed over. Maybe together we can come up with a plan to get Pilar’s killer.”

T
HEY SPENT SEVERAL HOURS
going over pictures and letters that Pilar had sent to Chad. Though she used an alias, Carol Jones, Pilar’s familiar voice was so obvious in each typed line. The most damning evidence was Pilar’s description of her days at Scott Facility and the new medical and education programs she was trying to introduce. Given those facts anyone could guess that Carol Jones was really Pilar. Max explained that Pilar had chosen a name from a visitors’ list. When the investigators followed up on what they thought was a promising lead, they discovered Carol Jones was an inmate’s now dead grandmother.

The unabashed intimacy Pilar showed frightened Celeste. She appeared indifferent to being discovered in an affair with a prisoner, a serial killer. It was an involvementthat would have ended her medical career and could have put her behind bars. Celeste showed the pictures to Max. “How could she be this derelict?”

“People in love often do funny things.” Max examined the titillating photos one more time. Then they both thumbed through the stack of material from Chad’s cell in silence.

“We also pulled Chad’s visiting card,” Max said, “to check who had been to see him.” He gave Celeste the card.

Several names, all women, were listed including Jane Carson, but she was denied entry. More heart-stopping was a visit from an attorney the day after Pilar’s murder.

Max also showed Celeste a
Detroit Free Press
newspaper clipping dated July 18 that recounted Pilar’s slaying and the manhunt. “What does all this mean?” she asked when she realized all Chad’s visitors were women, including the lawyer.

“We can’t prove anything,” Max answered, “but I’d say Chad knows more than he’s letting on.”

Celeste put the visiting card aside and reread the letter Pilar wrote to Chad on Mother’s Day after their brunch together. “So that’s where the $3,000 went.”

“What?” Max peered over her shoulder. “What $3,000?”

Celeste told Max that she and Detective Patterson talked about the odd withdrawal from Pilar’s bank account. “But he should have copies of all these by now, shouldn’t he, Max?” Celeste shook the letters at him.

“Yes, I’m sure I told Patterson about the deposit. But I’ll call him first thing tomorrow to be positive.”

Surprised by his answer, Celeste asked, “You knew?”

“It’s prison procedure. Any time a large sum of money is deposited into an inmate’s account, I’m notified. Then we monitor the prisoner’s mail and phone calls.”

“Why? What could you find out?”

Max returned what he’d been reviewing to the pile and patted his hands along the edges so the stack was even. A fastidious gesture when compared to his rumpled outfit and the disarray of his office. “Usually such a large deposit means the prisoner is dealing in drugs or is involved in some other illegal activity,” he answered and sat near Celeste. “Especially someone like Chad Wilbanks who has attempted to escape already.”

Celeste fumbled through the pictures over and over. Many were of Pilar alone in her apartments. The skin on Celeste’s face tightened when she found the one that showed Pilar lying naked on a bed. “What desperate need did Pilar have that she succumbed to this?” she asked Max without expecting an answer. “She was so beautiful. So intelligent. She could have had anybody.” Then she sat still and stared at the evidence of her daughter’s hidden life.

“Celeste? A dollar for your thoughts.” Max offered.

She chuckled, “What happened to a penny?”

“Inflation, you know.”

Celeste looked toward Lake Superior. “I was justthinking about all the nice young men out there who could have been Pilar’s partner.” She faced Max. “Pilar’s world was always so much bigger than mine. Yet I never thought it would lead her to this.”

“Umm,” Max acknowledged. “No matter how we try as parents, it’s not always easy to guide our children in the direction we desire.”

Returning to the stack of letters Celeste noted they were all typed except for the two dated the week before Pilar died. They were in pen. Seeing her handwriting, Celeste felt as though Pilar was still alive. She ran a finger over the words and shuddered at the eerie sensation.

The handwritten letters also mentioned Pilar’s contacts with Tommy and the plan to get Chad out of prison by bribing a judge. Max was right; the letters revealed Pilar’s connection to Tommy, but there was no indication that Chad had influenced her. Pilar’s words showed a woman in despair dealing with a treacherous convict or convicts. In her letters, Pilar repeatedly displayed her despondency as she went on and on reassuring Chad he was the only man for her. That she’d do anything to be with him. She never mentioned that giving up her life was in the plot.

“What do you suppose Pilar meant by Plan B?” Celeste asked Max.

“I can only assume there was some sort of escape scheme if the attorney didn’t pan out.” He shook his head. “A key to the infirmary windows was found in Chad’s cell. But an escape was fantasy.”

The cheerful handwritten letter dated Mother’s Day made Celeste feel left out and empty. Celeste read about Chad and Pilar’s plans to settle in Africa. How silly of Celeste to think she would go with Pilar. Her heart sank even further when she read the part about Pilar’s visit with Maryann Wilbanks.

Celeste laid the pile down and gazed out the window at a passing freighter. “Do you know that Pilar kept the letters Chad wrote to her?” she watched the freighter’s lights flicker in the waves.

“No,” Max answered, “but I suspected they would turn up.”

“I don’t believe Chad had never encouraged Pilar to help him. He confessed to me that he and Pilar planned his escape. Yet he was careful not to say anything in his letters.” She paused to take a breath. “Chad’s fantasy about his release was fueled by Pilar, especially after he accused her of seeing other men. I wish he was right and she had found someone else.”

Celeste surrendered to the tears she held back all evening. Max circled his arm around her shoulders. They stayed entwined while Celeste cried harder than she had since Pilar’s funeral. Maybe harder than any time before in her life. Max wrapped his other arm around her. His firm caress felt so good. “Celeste?”

“Yes,” she sniffled.

“What do you say we take a short break from all of this tomorrow?” Max released her and examined her face. “You deserve it.”

“Perhaps.” She sat on a chair next to the window. “Actually, it would be good for me to have a day of no worry. Pilar’s death has completely enveloped me.”

“As it would any good mother, I’d hope.” Max’s gentle compliment was endearing. She couldn’t remember the last time a man of her own age had been that interested in her well being. Max was an intriguing person.

A carefree day alone with him was the perfect plan, although Celeste felt like a young girl sneaking out behind her parents’ back to meet a boyfriend. How exciting that adventure would be. It just might be the spark needed to re-motivate the life changes she initiated before Pilar was murdered. She was curious to discover what about Max had so troubled Pilar. If she had been open to his kindness, perhaps she’d be alive today. Celeste did need that day off. Though she experienced a twinge of guilt – having pleasure when Pilar could not. Then Celeste recalled Pilar’s often repeated phrase, “Get over it.”

“I’ll pick you up about 11:00, okay?” Max asked.

“Perfect.” She walked with him to the hall.

Max took both her hands and quietly said, “Good night, Celeste.”

“Good night.” She watched him until the elevator doors closed.

Once ready for bed, Celeste retrieved the Isenberg book from her luggage. She propped the pillow against the headboard and reread the jacket: “They may be teachers, reporters, nurses, social workers or housewives. On the surface, these women seem like ordinary people. They aren’t. They are the women who love and marry men who have killed — and their numbers are growing.”

Celeste sighed in disbelief and opened to the first page.

L
AKE
S
UPERIOR SHIMMERED IN
the sun like a thousand rainbow-colored jewels. Max and Celeste drove along the shore to indulge in brunch at Thunder Bay Inn. “It’s one of my favorite spots,” Max told her earlier when he helped Celeste into his truck. “I like the nearby Big Bay Light House, too. It’s a fun B&B. If you catch Chuck, the owner, at the right time, he’ll give you a hilarious history of the old place.”

When they parked outside the inn, Celeste remembered why the building was familiar. “Max, isn’t this the place featured in
Anatomy of a Murder? ”

“It sure is.” He reached for Celeste’s arm to help her from the truck’s high passenger seat. His eyes were wide awake, the puffiness she saw the day before had nearly disappeared.

“What fun!” she announced. Then she thought of the irony. To allay her sudden sadness, she asked, “I wonder if Pilar ever came out here?” She quickly added, “Sorry, no work and no grieving today. That was my promise.”

“Good.” Max beamed, his grin enhancing the creases around his eyes and mouth.

They sauntered toward the entrance as though they wanted to fill their lungs with the warm, entangled scent of woods and water, while listening to the silence of a fairy tale moment. Max moved his arm in a circle to show off the locale. “It’s like having my soul massaged,” he said in a subdued voice so as not to disturb the surroundings or stir up the deer that lingered in the brush on the other side of Lake Independence.

In response Celeste sniffed and admitted, “It’s both refreshing and soothing.” Sticking her nose up to the sky like a howling wolf, she took another exaggerated whiff. “And makes me hungry.” She giggled. She had never shared such a moment with Marcus, not even in college.

A
FTER ENJOYING A SLOW
, scrumptious brunch, Max drove them out to the Big Bay Lighthouse. The historical building appeared to hang precariously from the perilous rock cliffs overlooking the unimpeded expanse of Lake Superior. “What a magnificent place,” Celeste commented as she peered over the craggy outcropping. “It’s the perfect spot to hide from the daily grind.” She turned to Max. His lined face was highlighted by the sun.

“You’re absolutely right, Celeste.” Max’s cheery response was almost swallowed by the wind as it mingled with the crashing waves below.

Watching Max’s hair dance in the breeze, Celeste was convinced that she belonged here. Not necessarily this specific location but in that confident serenity, so far from Marcus’ chastising. How had she become so comfortable with Max, a man she barely knew? It was like a scene from a soap opera — immediate attraction between two strangers threaded together by a horrible event. Max’s unyielding attention to Celeste and Pilar’s death re-enforced her belief that he also sensed they were meant to be together in some fashion or another.