Crown Jewel

by Fern Michaels

  A K-9 cop with his partner walked through the door. His partner was four-legged and wore a bulletproof vest like his two-legged partner. He wore his shield proudly around his neck. Before he’d left California, Ricky had donated thousands of dollars to the K-9s for bulletproof vests.

  “Harry Baker,” the two-legged cop said to Ricky, holding out his hand. “My partner, Cyrus. Shake hands, Cyrus.” The giant shepherd held up his right paw. Ricky shook it and didn’t feel silly at all. He’d been busted four different times by drug-sniffing K-9s. In his other life.

  “I’d like to personally thank you on behalf of the whole squad for the vests you donated to the K-9s. You in some kind of trouble?”

  “Not me personally. My boys hit a bit of a rough patch last night at Whispers. I’m here to bail them out.”

  “Cyrus aced that one last night. He found so much dope I bought him a T-bone for breakfast. Didn’t see your boys, though. Good luck and thanks again.” Ricky nodded as the beefy cop walked to the back of the station.

  Ricky made his way back to the desk sergeant. “Can I see the boys?”

  “Sure. Hey, Joe, take Mr. Lam to lockup. He wants to see his kids. Listen, are you bailing out Gracie and her brother, too?”

  “Gracie and her brother?”

  “Yeah, Gracie. She gets hauled in here on a regular basis. She’s a reporter for one of those rags. Nice kid. This is the first time for the brother, though. He tends bar at Whispers. Seems he smashed a camera belonging to Dicky Tee, and Dicky is pressing charges. You know who Dicky Tee is, right?”

  “Yeah, I know that weasel. Sure, add them to the list. Explain it to the lawyer when he gets here.”

  “Follow me, Mr. Lam,” the officer said. “You back in Hollywood for good or just visiting, Mr. Lam?”

  “Just visiting.”

  “Can’t stay away from this place, huh? Can I get your autograph? My girlfriend would love it. We’re both fans.” He pulled a small tattered notebook out of his breast pocket. Ricky scrawled his signature. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Hands jammed in his Dockers, Ricky looked through the bars at his sons. He wanted to laugh, but he managed to keep a straight face. They looked pathetic, but they didn’t look remorseful. He eyed his two favorite Armani suits, his expression pained. One of the sleeves on the suit Tyler was wearing was ripped off at the shoulder. He could see Max’s hairy leg through the slit in his trousers. The pink and yellow shirts were nothing but strips of fabric. He leaned against the wall, and said, “Do you have any idea how much those suits cost?”

  “Kind of,” Max said.

  “Not really,” Tyler said.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened, or do you want me to guess? What the hell are you two doing here anyway? How’d you get into the house, for starters? Never mind, tell me later.”

  “Hey, Mr. Lam, I can tell you everything you want to know,” a voice chirped from somewhere behind him.

  “Don’t believe anything she says. She’s one of those scummy tabloid reporters,” Tyler and Max said in unison. “She’s the reason we’re in here.”

  “That’s a lie about me being scummy. I have ethics,” the voice chirped again. “The reason I’m in here is those two…those two…jerks said I was their ringleader. Listen, my brother and I need to get out of here. We have classes today. Are you two cruds going to tell them the truth or not?”

  “No!” Both Lam brothers shouted at the same time. “You spell that, n-o! No!”

  This time the chirping voice snarled. “Assholes! See if I help you again! Wait till you read the story I’m going to write! Hollywood doesn’t like boxers. They like jockeys. I saw yours! Green! No one wears green underwear.”

  “You’re wearing my underwear, too?” Ricky hissed.

  “And your shoes!” the faceless voice shrilled. “One of them is barefoot! What do you think of that? I’m writing all that down!”

  “Shut up, Gracie! Why can’t you be quiet like your brother?” Tyler said, pressing his face against the bars so his voice could be heard down the hallway.

  “Don’t tell me to shut up, you poor excuse for a movie star’s son. I’m hungry! Don’t they feed you in here? This is police brutality! I’m going to write about this!”

  “Shut up, Gracie. No one cares! I’m personally going to strangle you when we get out of here!” Max bellowed, his voice echoing in Ricky’s ears.

  “And just what do you think I’ll be doing while you’re trying to strangle me? You two wusses don’t even know how to fight! I had to help you. Me! I helped you! Did you hear that, Mr. Lam? Did you? Well, did you? He threatened me. I’m going to sue. For big bucks!”

  “Let me tell you what you’ll be doing, Miss Gracie Lick! You’re going to be dying!” Max thundered.

  Ricky had had enough. He slammed his hand into the crook of his elbow. “Time-out here!” He walked down the short hallway, to where Gracie Lick was kicking at the bars of her cell. He didn’t know if he should laugh or faint. He could see now that she wasn’t even five feet tall, and he doubted if she weighed even ninety pounds. She stopped her tirade long enough to look up at him. Ricky held out his hand. “I’m Ricky Lam. I assume you are Gracie Lick.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m Gracie Lick. This is my brother Wally.” She pumped Ricky’s hand vigorously. Wally stayed where he was.

  “I’d like to personally apologize for the boys’ crude behavior. Sometimes they can be oafs. I’ll see to it that they apologize when we straighten this all out. In addition, my attorney will bail you and your brother out of here. I would also like to invite you and your brother out to my house for breakfast. No one is going to strangle anyone.”

  “We accept,” Gracie said gleefully.

  “He said we were oafs,” Max said.

  “It’s a Hollywood word. It means jerks, or in our case, assholes,” Tyler said. His voice was so sour-sounding, his brother patted his shoulder sympathetically.

  “I’ll be back,” Ricky said as he made his way to the door. “Try not to kill each other till we get out of here in one piece.”

  Two hours later they could have posed for the Keystone Kops as they snapped and snarled at one another, with Gracie Lick’s voice the loudest.

  Ricky looked at his Porsche with the two bucket seats and, in the hope of preventing bloodshed, opted to take Gracie back to Whispers so she could get her car. Tyler, Max, and Gracie’s brother piled into a cab.

  Gracie stuck her head out the window. “If my car was impounded, your ass is grass!” she shouted, as Ricky blasted forward, her neck snapping backward. “Nice wheels,” she said in a normal voice. “I’ve never been in a Porsche before. So, how come you’re being so nice to me? I’ll have to pay you back a little at a time for the bail. Don’t worry, I always pay my bills. What are you three up to? I know you’re up to something. I can smell it. I have journalistic instincts. They never fail me. Now, if you give me an exclusive, I could make some bucks and pay you back sooner.”

  Ricky looked over at her. “What’s a nice girl like you doing hustling like this?”

  “It beats waiting tables. Even though I’m young I don’t want to risk getting varicose veins. Wally and I are putting ourselves through college. It’s taking us forever. Rent is sky-high here in California. We have a fifteen-year-old sister we’re responsible for. Teenagers require a lot of money, and we have to start thinking about college for her. We have cars and insurance, and we have to eat. We both work, but I’m the one who makes the most. Yes, I’m aggressive, but in this business you have to be.”

  He didn’t want to know, but he asked anyway. “Where are your parents?”

  “They’re dead,” she said flatly.

  “I’m sorry,” Ricky said.

  “No, you’re not. That’s what people say when they don’t know what else to say. You didn’t even know them, so how can you be sorry? My dad was driving my mother home from a church bingo game, and while he waited for her, he was drinking. The accident was
his fault. No car, no insurance. An aunt took us in, and when she got done spending the small life insurance policy, she told us to take a hike. Now you can say, ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ ” She started to cry.

  Ricky bit down on his lower lip as he risked a sideways look at her. “There are some tissues in the glove compartment. Sometimes life isn’t fair,” was all he could think of to say.

  “Most of the time it out and out sucks,” Gracie hiccuped.

  “That, too. Okay, we’re here. Do you see your car?” The Porsche slid to the curb.

  “It’s the Beetle over there,” she said, pointing to a beat-up yellow car with rusty bumpers and a dent in the passenger-side door. “Tell me where you live, or do you want me to follow you? Or was that invitation to breakfast just something you said back there at the police station to shut me up?”

  “You do talk a lot. Is it a defense mechanism?” Ricky asked curiously.

  “Yes.” She blew her nose with such gusto her whole body shuddered. “Thanks for the ride. Don’t drive fast. My car can’t go over forty miles an hour. It’s good enough for going around town, and I don’t have to worry about someone stealing it. Even when I leave the keys in it, no one takes it.”

  “Remarkable,” Ricky said.

  “Yeah, it is. What are you making for breakfast?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Oh. That means toast. I was thinking of something a little more substantial. I kind of like the mouthy one named Max,” she called over her shoulder on her way to the yellow Beetle. “Remember, don’t go over forty.”

  Five minutes later, a cab rolled to the curb. Ricky watched as his sons stepped from the cab. They looked worse in the bright day-light. They pointed to the rented BMW parked four car lengths behind the Beetle. He waited until Wally settled himself in the Beetle before he pulled away from the curb. Gracie tapped her foggy-sounding horn to show she was following him. In spite of himself, he started to laugh and couldn’t stop.

  “Wow!” Gracie said when she climbed out of the Beetle. “This is beautiful, Mr. Lam. I can’t wait to see the inside of the house. This pool is gorgeous. That cabana is as big as our whole apartment. I can’t believe I’m actually here seeing this place. It must be nice to be rich.” She sighed.

  Ricky watched as Max sidled up next to Gracie. He looked like he was about to say something smart. Obviously, Gracie thought so, too. She turned, and, with one mighty shove, Max went flying into the pool. Tyler skidded to a stop, his eyes registering shock, before she swung around and kicked out. Tyler joined his brother in the deep end of the pool.

  “That’s for telling those cops I was your ringleader. You don’t want to mess with me because I can wipe up the floor with you. That means I can tie you into a pretzel and not even break a sweat. I had to take karate because I’m so small. I have a brown belt.”

  Her voice sounded so triumphant, Max and Tyler believed her implicitly.

  “She’s telling you the truth,” Wally said, speaking for the first time.

  Tyler and Max climbed out of the pool, their eyes wary. They stayed as far away from Gracie as they could. She laughed. “Sometimes, size doesn’t count.” The wicked gleam in her eye was all the boys had to see before they raced into the house.

  “Do you mind if I walk through your house, Mr. Lam? I won’t touch anything. My brother can help you make breakfast.”

  “Sure, make yourself at home,” Ricky said.

  Gracie moved from room to room until she came to the staircase leading to the second floor. She crept up silently and made her way down the hall in the direction of the voices she could hear. Her face flushed and her ears rang as she listened. Eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Hot tears pricked at her eyelids as she bit down on her closed fist, and yet, somehow, a sob escaped. She turned and fled.

  Max saw her rounding the corner of the hall that led to the staircase. “Well, shit, Bro, we just blew that one. I think it’s safe to say Miss Gracie Lick heard our unflattering résumé of her abilities as well as her character.”

  Tyler sighed as he pulled on a pair of plaid shorts and a wrinkled tee shirt that said HARD ROCK CAFE. “Okay, let’s go apologize. I didn’t mean all that stuff we were running our mouths about. I was talking to hear myself because I didn’t want to think about facing Pop. Come on, Max, shake it.”

  “She’s a loose cannon,” Max grumbled as he slipped his feet into scuffed Birkenstocks.

  The table was set in the kitchen, and pots bubbled on the stove. “Wally is making breakfast, or maybe it’s brunch. It’s food,” Ricky said, eyeing his sons, his gaze going from them, then to Gracie, who was sitting at the table with her hands folded.

  Sitting silently.

  “No thank you,” Gracie said to her brother, as he was about to ladle the concoction he’d been stirring onto her plate. “I’ll wait till you eat, then I think we should leave,” she said quietly.

  Wally looked at her, seeing something in her eyes the others failed to see. “We can go now, Gracie. I’m not hungry either.” He set the pot back on the stove before he moved to his sister’s side. “I’m ready if you are.”

  Gracie stood up and held out her hand. “Thanks for bailing us out. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Lam. Is this the address where I should send the check?” She pointedly ignored Tyler and Max.

  Nonplussed, Ricky nodded. He stared at his sons when the door closed behind brother and sister.

  “This is just a guess on my part, but I think you have about two minutes to make this come out right. I’d go for it if I were you.”

  They almost knocked each other out as they tried to get through the open doorway at the same moment. He watched from the window as they caught up with Gracie and Wally near the pool.

  “Hey, Gracie, hold up,” Max called. Gracie ignored him. Max made the mistake of reaching for her arm and found himself heading back into the water. Gracie stopped long enough to say, “You really are an oaf.”

  Inside the house, Ricky groaned. No wonder his sons didn’t have serious relationships. He walked to the door, heard the Beetle cough and sputter before the engine caught. Gracie slipped it into gear and chugged down the driveway, only to return within minutes to demand that someone open the gates. He turned around to press the remote when he saw his sons race to the back of the car. With the horsepower generated by 360 pounds of body weight they pushed the Beetle to the pool and, with one herculean shove, sent it into the deep end.

  “I hate your guts, you rich piece of shit!” Gracie sputtered as she surfaced.

  “I’m not real fond of you, either,” Max said. “Get out, you’re stinking up our pool.”

  Ricky watched the byplay and knew he was getting old. If this was a mating dance, he wanted no part of it. Young people today confused him.

  Wally Lick was pissed. Tyler could see it in his face. Max could see it, too. They both backed up until one of the poolside tables was between them and Wally.

  “You aren’t worth it. Gracie is right, you’re nothing but a rich, walking piece of shit breathing air other people need to live,” Wally said venomously as he took his sister by the hand and led her down the driveway. The three Lams watched as Wally lifted up his sister so she could scale the gate. Then he climbed over himself.

  “I hope you two are proud of yourselves. Get your asses in here and tell me what’s going on. Now!” Ricky thundered.

  “Don’t you want us to go after them and see that they get home okay? We have to pay them for the car.” Tyler cringed at the murderous look on his father’s face.

  “And you have to pay to have said car removed from the pool plus your bail plus my two suits and plus a lot of other things. In the house!” Ricky thundered a second time.

  “Talk!” he said.

  They jabbered about their plan to confront Dicky Tee, then they apologized. “We thought it would work,” Tyler said.

  “It’s not a bad idea. Go after them. See if yo
u can get them to come back. You get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. You’re old enough to know that. I have an idea I need to think about. Take the Blazer.”

  Out of his depth, Ricky dialed Roxy’s private cell phone. The tenseness in his shoulders eased the moment he heard her voice. Something was happening to him where Roxy was concerned, even though he still wasn’t sure about her motives.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  He told her, then listened to her laughter. “Welcome to fatherhood a little late in the game, Ricky.” She went off into another peal of laughter.

  “The best part is, I think she has a thing for Max. I think he has one for her, too, he just doesn’t know it yet. I think I miss you, Roxy.”

  “You think?”

  “No, I do. Miss you that is.” He waited to see what she would say. His heart almost leaped out of his chest when she said, “I keep looking around expecting to see you, but you aren’t here. I guess that means I miss you, too.”

  Yesss! Ricky’s fist shot in the air. “Uh-oh, I hear the Blazer. They must be back. I’ll call you later.”

  Ricky sipped at his now-cold coffee and waited while the four sorry young people walked into his kitchen. He took his time looking at them individually for a minute, hoping to unnerve them. “Sit down,” he said, his voice ringing with authority. “Don’t talk until I tell you to talk.”

  They sat, their lips clamped together.

  “It’s a given that we will replace your car, Gracie. In fact, if you are amenable, I’ll sign over the title of the Blazer to you. My sons, and yes, they are my sons, will reimburse me for all your expenses as well as their own. In addition to that, I’d like to make you and your brother an offer. You can take it or leave it, the decision will be yours. When I relocated to Antigua, I closed up the house and the grounds and paid off the people who worked for me. I can see now that I need someone to take care of things. I’m offering you the caretaker’s cottage beyond the pool. It has three bedrooms, three baths, a living and dining room, and a kitchen, of course. You’ll be responsible for keeping up the property, seeing that the electronic fence is kept oiled, the lawn cut and trimmed. And the pool needs to be taken care of. You will have the use of the pool and the tennis courts. I’ll pay you both a decent wage, so you can give up your jobs and concentrate on your schooling. A school bus stops down the road, so your sister will not be a problem. In return for this, I want you to write a story as soon as possible so that it hits the wires in order to take the wind out of Dicky Tee’s sails. I’d like to see the article in the L.A. Times as opposed to your paper, Gracie, but I’ll take whatever I can get.”