She Wanted It All - Kathryn Casey [83]
“Should I go talk to her?” Anita asked.
Steve looked embarrassed and sad. “No,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do.”
When Celeste finally came in, she sat with Steve and the girls, but it seemed to Anita that she wanted to be anywhere but in the restaurant with Steve.
The phone rang at Tracey’s house on the night of September 12. “You need to come over right away!” Celeste screamed. “Steve’s passed out. I need your help.”
When Tracey arrived, Steve was in a kitchen chair, unconscious.
“I drugged him,” Celeste said. “Help me get him out of the chair.”
Tracey grabbed him under one arm and Celeste under the other, then they angled the chair beneath him, until he fell to the floor.
“Oh, God,” Tracey said. “What do we do now?”
“Wait,” Celeste said.
She left and moments later returned with a plastic kitchen garbage bag and a towel. She then wrapped the towel around his neck and pulled the garbage bag over his head, cinching it shut.
“I saw this on television,” she said. “Now the bag won’t leave marks.”
On the floor, Steve moved slightly, and the bag went in and out with each breath.
Suddenly, Celeste handed the bag straps to Tracey.
“Hold these,” she said.
Tracey did, and Steve’s breathing continued. She thought: I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. When Steve moved again, Tracey dropped the bag. “I can’t do this,” she said, horrified. “I just can’t.”
“I can’t, either,” Celeste said, pulling the bag from his head. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
After Celeste called 911, she dialed Kristina’s cell phone. “Steve’s had a seizure. I’ve called EMS,” she said.
“Do you want me to come get you?”
“No, go to the hospital. Tracey’s here. She’ll take me.”
But as soon as she hung up, Celeste changed her mind. “You should leave,” she told Tracey. She dialed Kristina again. “Come get me,” she said.
At North Austin Medical Center, Steve’s blood alcohol level was high, .168, and his oxygen level was dangerously low. A social worker was called in to talk to him about his drinking, but he insisted he hadn’t had more than two or three vodkas, not enough to cause such high blood levels. The social worker noted on his chart that Steve was not facing his drinking problem.
Two days later, at 2:00 P.M., a nurse called Celeste and said Steve was ready to be discharged. “I’m not going to be home today. I have plans,” Celeste answered. “Why don’t you keep him another day?”
“Your husband is fine. He doesn’t need to be here,” the nurse said. “He has to check out today, but you can wait until seven tonight, if you need to.”
“Okay,” Celeste said. “I’ll be there at seven.”
Steve took the news without complaint. For another five hours he stayed at the hospital, waiting for Celeste to arrive to take him home.
The morning after his release, it happened again. This time the maid screamed and Kristina came running. Steve was unconscious, facedown at the kitchen table with his eyes open. When Kristina shook him, he didn’t respond.
Celeste and the girls lowered him onto the floor and called EMS for a second time in three days. At the hospital, Steve was prodded and examined, but the doctors found no reason for his fainting spells. They did, however, chronicle his declining health in his chart: bronchitis, high blood pressure, an enlarged heart, sleep apnea, and abnormal blood chemistry from the high doses of alcohol damaging his kidneys. Celeste was right. Eventually, the Everclear would kill him.
That week, Celeste brought in the final payment for the approaching trip to Europe, a check for $40,788, to Tramex Travel. Included was the money for the cancellation insurance. Stacy was surprised, wondering what had changed Steve’s mind. He’d been so adamant about not wanting the