She Wanted It All - Kathryn Casey [126]
Still, the investigation haunted Celeste. Donna thought her guilt ate at her. She rarely talked bad about Steve. Instead she portrayed him as her fallen hero, her one true love. And she mused often about what the police might be doing. One day, she complained that Burton refused to get her a copy of the police report, which was available to the public. “Call that detective and get the case number. I’ll get it for you,” Donna offered.
Celeste dialed Wines’s phone number, and when she asked, he quickly read it off.
“It must be right on his desk,” she said to Donna after she hung up.
“I think that cop’s mad at you,” Donna said. “He’s not going to let this drop.”
Celeste frowned.
Donna was fascinated watching Celeste. Like a chameleon, she acted one way with some people and like a different person around others. With Anita and her friends from the lake—Dawn, Marilou, and Dana—Celeste played the vulnerable widow, grieving for her husband. “With me, she was the promiscuous drunk,” says Donna. “Every night in the bars, and nothing she wouldn’t do.”
Always, she asked when Modesto would murder Tracey. “Maybe tomorrow,” Donna said. Or, “Later today.” Celeste called Tracey often, which Tracey interpreted as Celeste missing her. But when Celeste hung up, she frowned because Modesto hadn’t done the job yet. When she asked why, Donna made up excuses. Modesto was busy, had another job first, or planned to wait a few more days. Celeste took it well, never pushing.
If Celeste knew how to handle men, Donna knew how to handle Celeste; Donna led her on, and Celeste refused her nothing. When Donna mentioned liking something, Celeste gave it to her. One day it was a diamond cocktail ring, another, a jeweled pendant of the Dallas skyline. “She wanted Tracey dead so bad, I could have asked for her car and she would have signed over the registration,” says Donna.
Out every night and sleeping much of the day, Donna performed a job that evolved into shuffling Celeste to therapy sessions, brushing her hair, arranging for hairdressers and manicurists to come to the house, and running her errands. She never had time to do paperwork and pay bills. Soon the unopened mail piled up until it mounded over a corner of Steve’s desk. “You could hire my mom to do it,” Donna suggested.
The following day Donna’s mother, Frances Tate, came to the Toro Canyon house and spent the day sorting bills. There were credit card statements with hundreds of thousands of dollars waiting to be paid. After two hours of organizing, Celeste handed her a check for $800 for her services.
More and more, Kristina and Justin took over the work of running the house, so much so that Celeste made up lists for them, telling them what needed to be done, everything from buying new garbage cans to typing her letters. Celeste even sent Justin a thank-you card: “You’ve been really wonderful with everything you do for us … I couldn’t have survived the last two months without you.”
On the porch one afternoon, Celeste and Justin sat in rocking chairs looking out at the bluebonnets. As usual, she was on the telephone, this time with her psychiatrist, Michele Hauser. For weeks she’d told the doctor that she felt guilty over Steve’s murder. “If I hadn’t brought Tracey into our lives, he’d still be alive,” she said.
Justin listened as Celeste told Hauser she couldn’t sleep, blaming it on depression. When she hung up, she laughed. “Well, I told the partial truth,” she said. “I’m not sleeping, but it’s because I’m having so much fun at the bars.”
Busy with Donna, Celeste rarely saw Tracey.