Crown's Law

by Wolf Wootan

  For this date, she had asked him to wear a suit and said she would take care of the reservations at a place of her choice. He was looking forward to the mystery date. He walked through the gate and into her yard, went to the door and rang the bell. Thirty seconds later, she opened the door to let him in.

  “Come in a minute, Sam. I need to get my coat,” Sue said, silhouetted by the light behind her.

  “Thanks, Sue,” he replied as she stepped back to let him in. When he saw her in the light, he had to stifle a gasp.

  Sue was dressed in a black, scoop-necked, sleeveless dress made of a jersey-like material that clung to her body like a coat of paint. The dress reached only to mid-thigh, and although she was wearing sheer pantyhose, seeing her white legs, chest, and arms contrasted against the black dress gave him a sense of looking at a black-and-white photo. The only flashes of color were her red hair, a Jade necklace, Jade bracelet on her right wrist, Jade earrings, and, of course, her green eyes. Her pale lipstick didn’t detract from the image she projected.

  Not many would ever describe Sue as “beautiful,” but most would call her “cute”—pug nose, thin lips. Sam had always thought of her as “handsome,” not “cute.” Tonight she took his breath away. Her face and eyes had been carefully made up and her red hair was pulled up on top of her head, exposing the beautiful curve of her white neck.

  “My God, Sue! You’re gorgeous! Where have you been hiding this you?” gasped Sam.

  “I’ve been saving this for our third date, in case we ever got that far. I’m glad you like!” she beamed.

  She was wearing black pumps with 4-inch heels, so it made her a more comfortable height for Sam to lean over and brush her lips with his, and breathe in her exotic perfume.

  “You’re strikingly handsome tonight yourself, Sam,” she whispered.

  She had chosen an upscale Italian restaurant in Laguna Beach so they could have candlelight, wine, and strolling musicians. It was the most romantic tryst that Sam had been involved in in quite some time. He wasn’t sure whether Sue was sending a message which read, “I’m ready, ask me,” or whether she was taking matters into her own hands and was going to take him to bed. Or neither. Though he was confused about the message, he relaxed and enjoyed it.

  The only thing that irritated Sam about Sue was her tendency to occasionally go in to “shrink mode” during conversations. He never knew if he was being analyzed, or if she was doing it unconsciously. She tended to answer questions with questions of her own—a shrink technique. He could imagine how the conversation would go if he got around to asking her to have sex.

  “Do you think we could have sex tonight?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Would you like your body ravished?”

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “Yes! I’d like to screw your brains out!”

  “Do you hate your mother?”

  Shit! thought Sam. How to proceed?

  He finally decided he had nothing to lose by just asking. “Sue, this has been an extraordinarily romantic and pleasant evening. There is something I would like to say without you analyzing it.”

  “Of course, Sam. What?” she replied coyly, her green eyes twinkling in the candlelight, two green spots on a field of snow.

  “The time has come to say that I’d like to have sex with you tonight.”

  “I thought you’d never ask!” she giggled. “As soon as we finish this exquisite wine, you can take me home and we’ll do the deed!”

  “I can’t wait that long! I’ll buy a bottle to take with us!”

  ***

  Once they were inside Sue’s house and in the living room, door locked, Sam helped her out of her coat and laid it across the back of a jade green couch. Sue turned to face him and peered at him with her pale green eyes and said, “Now that we’re here, Sam, I think it may be a mistake to do this. My training tells me that it’s borderline unethical for me to sleep with you.”

  Sam winced. “Aww, Sue! Jeez! Don’t tell me that now! I’ve been anticipating it all the way here!”

  “Anticipation is often better than the actual event,” laughed Sue. “You don’t know whether I’m very good at this!”

  “Of course you are! Weren’t you required to take Sexual Positions, Techniques, and Other Sex Stuff 101 to get your degree?”

  “Actually, yes. That’s mental exercises. How do you know I can put it into practice?” she asked, her head tilted a bit.

  “Let’s find out!”

  “Pour us some of that wine you bought. There are glasses on the shelf in the wet bar—in the den there.” She turned her back to Sam and continued, “Here, unzip me, please. I’ll get out of this dress before you start groping me.”

  “Groping? I can be subdued and suave!” he chuckled as he unzipped her dress, saw the strap of her black bra against the snow of her back.

  “Oh, I enjoy groping! Despite my fragile facade, I don’t break, Sam!” she laughed. “Be right back.”

  As she headed to the bedroom, Sam found a corkscrew in a drawer at the wet bar, popped the cork, and poured them each a glass of the smooth, red wine and anxiously awaited her return.

  She swished into the den wearing a green robe. Over what, Sam could only speculate. Sam had removed his suit jacket and tie, but was otherwise clothed. They sat next to each other on a small love seat covered in a floral print and pink throw pillows. They clinked glasses and sipped their wine, Sam continuing to anticipate. It was painful.

  “Have you made a decision yet?” he finally asked.

  “Of course, silly! My female hormones won me over weeks ago! I’m surprised you waited this long! I’ve heard of your reputation as the Casanova of the county!” she laughed, placing her hand on the inside of his thigh.

  “My, my! What do I feel?” she giggled, squeezing him.

  “Careful there, lady! I have uses planned for that!”

  She sat up and put her glass on the coffee table.

  “We haven’t even properly kissed yet,” she whispered, though there was no one there to hear her. “Perhaps we should start with that.”

  She turned and fell back across his body and into his arms, and they kissed—soft at first, then frantically. When they came up for air, she murmured, “You may grope me now.”

  He did.

  After ten minutes of passionate kissing and groping, Sue swung her legs to the carpet and sat up. He had managed to get her robe open and had feasted his eyes on her naked body. Her breasts were like scoops of vanilla ice cream with cherries on top, a splash of dark red pubic hair—otherwise, there wasn’t a blemish on her white body. No freckles, no strap marks from sunbathing, no moles. Nothing. Her body was like a marble sculpture that a teenaged graffiti vandal had splashed with three spots of paint.

  “Bedroom!” she panted.

  He picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. The covers on the bed had already been pulled down. He put her down and she let her robe drop to the carpet, then faced him.

  “The vampire emerges,” she giggled.

  “Breathtaking!” was all Sam could say.

  “All positions are game except you on top. I don’t want to be smothered!”

  Chapter 12

  Friday, January 12, 2001

  Capistrano Beach, CA

  On New Year’s Eve in 1999, the big topic of conversation was the Y2K bug and whether the world would crash at midnight. On New Year’s Eve in the year 2000, there were still some diehards who claimed that the new millennium didn’t start in 2000, but would start in 2001. At the Crown’s house, the most talked about event was the approach of Becky’s 16th birthday on January 12th.

  Educationally, Becky had completed her BA in physics, her MAs in both mathematics and physics, and was diligently working on her doctorates in both disciplines. Her new theory on how matter behaved at speeds faster than the established speed of light—called Rebecca’s Folly by many of her detractors—was gaining support in many academic circles. She had dem
onstrated many of her theories in the lab. It was the main theme of her two doctoral theses. She had made several presentations at UCI to groups of distinguished mathematicians and physicists from all over the world. Sam would not let her travel to other halls of academia yet, so they had to come to her. That they came proved something.

  “Maybe when you’re 16,” he had told her.

  So 16 was a big number to Becky and the Crown family. Not because she might be able to travel to other palaces of academic prowess, but because she would be able to get her California Driver’s License! Getting Becky to and from UCI had been a joint effort of the Crown clan, Sam catching the brunt of it when he worked in Santa Ana. Two UCI students lived on Beach Road, so Becky had hitched rides with them when she could. Fortunately, much of her studying was done at home or with Sam at various venues. Now she could drive herself! If she had a car.

  That was taken care of her on her birthday. The Crowns gave her a new 2001, white VW beetle/bug wrapped in a large, red bow. She was ecstatic!

  Helena had set her up for disappointment on her actual birthday on Friday. The Crowns had their usual small party—the gala being scheduled for the next day—and Becky received her usual wonderful gifts, but no car keys! She was silently crushed!

  The next day, the bash was twice as big as the one Helena had thrown for her 15th birthday. During the cake ceremony and after the singing of “Happy Birthday,” Sam secretly retrieved the birthday car from a neighbor’s garage and parked it in front of the Crown house garages where they had saved a space for it.

  A few minutes later, the uniformed Chief of Security for the District walked out on the deck; he greeted those he knew and found Sam.

  “Hey, Sam. There’s a car parked illegally out front. Do you think you could have it moved?”

  Of course, he was in on the gag they were pulling on Becky.

  “Sorry, Chief. Hey, Beck! Could you go check this out? See whose car it is?” Sam yelled at Becky.

  “Sure, Sam! Be right back.”

  She left the deck and went out to the road. They all heard her scream over the roar of the crashing waves. Sam gave the chief a high-five and they all headed for the road. Becky was already sitting behind the wheel, alternately crying and laughing. She jumped out and began hugging her grandparents and Sam.

  “Thank you! Thank you! You guys really fooled me! Oh my God!” she wailed.

  Since she had her driver’s permit, she insisted that Sam ride shotgun while she took it for a spin on PCH.

  “It’s like a dream, Sam!” she bubbled as she sped along PCH 15 miles per hour over the speed limit. Sam’s hands were balled into fists and his knuckles were white.

  “Jeez, Beck! Watch the speed! You’ll kill us before you even get your license!” groaned Sam.

  “Sorry, Sam! Shit! This is heaven!”

  ***

  Even though she wasn’t reliant on Sam for transportation anymore, she still dropped by the Mickey Malone office quite a bit. She enjoyed helping Sam with his cases. It was a pleasant break from her crushing study load. She had gained quite a reputation among the Investigations International detectives for her deductive powers. She had helped Sam crack several difficult cases and he had given her the well-deserved credit.

  Sam took a lot of good-natured ribbing from his fellow detectives.

  “Hey, Crown, did you ever solve anything before the kid came along?”

  “Why don’t you turn the office over to Pearl and Becky? Give you more time to hunt quail!”

  They all loved Rebecca Rogers. She had a large cadre of protectors at her beck and call if she ever needed them.

  ***

  In March, Sam accompanied Becky to Washington, D.C. where she addressed the National Academy of Sciences and answered questions from the gathered throng of mathematicians and physicists—even some astrophysicists and astronomers—about her theories. The controversy heated up on both sides. Becky came home and started reworking her equations.

  “I have to make it easier for them to understand,” she told Sam. “My new math is confusing too many of them. I’ll have to restate things in terms that they can grasp.”

  ***

  On Wednesday, April 25th, Sam got a call from Sue wanting to see him on Saturday the 28th. She didn’t say why. He had been seeing her once or twice a month ever since that first delicious sexual encounter. She was as satisfied as he was with the nonexclusive dating arrangement, so he couldn’t guess what she was up to. Maybe she had thought of something sexual to do that they hadn’t tried yet!

  He arrived at her house at 6:00 P.M. on Saturday as he had been instructed. She greeted him at the front door with a kiss. Her body was completely covered in a floral muumuu.

  “Come on out to the patio. I’m cooking you dinner out there tonight. Hence, my covering garb,” she said as she floated down the hall and out to the walled-in patio. Coals were turning gray in the barbeque.

  “What’s the occasion, China doll?” he asked as he approached her from behind and put his arms around her, cupping both breasts with his hands.

  “As you know, we’ve enjoyed a comfortable, nonexclusive relationship. I met a man about six months ago. It’s become serious. He asked me to marry him and I’m going to say yes. I would’ve said yes already, but I wanted to see you one last time. This is our farewell fling, Sam. I plan to be a faithful, monogamous wife. We can still be friends, of course, if you wish. I hope you do.”

  He was sad it was over. She was special.

  “Well . . . I wish you all the happiness you can grab, Sue. You deserve it. Since you’re engaged, we can skip the farewell fling.”

  “Technically, I’m not. I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” she said as she leaned into him.

  “That’s a quibbling technicality. You’ve already made up your mind,” he said as he nuzzled her hair, missing her already.

  “We’re both good at quibbling with technicalities. I couldn’t tell you this over the phone, and I knew if I saw you, I’d want one last fling. OK?”

  “OK. Are you moving?” asked Sam, thinking of Becky.

  “No. I’ll drop some patient load by attrition and cut back to a 3-day week. He lives in La Jolla, so we’ll split time between here and there. He’s an art dealer and his store wouldn’t do as well in San Clemente as it does in La Jolla. Don’t worry, I’ll keep Becky for as long as she needs me.”

  “Thanks for that. Does she still need you? We never talk about it,” said Sam.

  “For a while yet. I’ve become quite a lifeline for her. Maybe I can start cutting her time back from once a week to twice a month. She’s maturing quite nicely . . . considering.”

  “So . . . you’re settling down. At times, I thought you might make a good mother for Becky,” mused Sam.

  “No! Definitely not! One can never be both mother and analyst, Sam! I have to play adversary at times. Sometimes Becky hates me, sometimes she clings to me. A mother can’t handle the swings in emotion,” exclaimed Sue. “She wants a mother desperately, however. I can reveal that much. Why don’t you put an end to your endless search for new women and find a wife? It’s time.”

  “I don’t have any candidates right now.”

  “You avoid the right kind of candidates. For example, what would you have done if I had asked you for a commitment?” she asked, a coy smile on her lips.

  He thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t know.”

  “Find someone, if not for yourself, do it for Becky,” she said. “If she’s not enough of an incentive, then you’re hopeless.”

  ***

  The sex had been slow and satisfying, Sue riding him on top. They both held back as long as they could, not wanting it to end. But it did. They lay on her bed in silence for a bit, absorbing the impact of Sue’s decision to marry.

  Sam finally spoke. “I know you’re not supposed to talk about Becky, but something has been bothering me. She’s 16 now, has her own wheels. In June she’ll get her doctorates. She’ll be a professor of s
ome sort at UCI—or anywhere she wants. Several universities have already approached her. So she’s a perfect case for emancipation whenever she wants it. I wonder if she’s ever talked to you about it.”

  “Are you for or against it?” she asked, back in shrink mode.

  “Against, of course. I would never stand in her way, but it would complicate my job.”

  “Which is?”

  “To look after her. Protect her. Like I’ve always done.”

  “You wouldn’t be obligated if she were emancipated,” observed Sue.

  “I’ll never abandon her, even if she does something foolish.”

  “Why, Sam! You sound like a father! You should discuss emancipation with Becky. Let her tell you how she feels about it. You won’t be sorry.”

  “So, you won’t tell me.”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Some rules you never bend.”

  “I’m going to sleep now. You can spend the night if you promise not to roll over and crush me. We could have an encore in the morning,” she said as she kissed him goodnight.

  Chapter 13

  Tuesday, May 1, 2001

  Santa Ana, CA

  Sam was sitting on a bar stool in Sparky’s Club, a local bar that he frequented often because it was only two blocks from the Mickey Malone office—and he was friends with the owner. Also, they served good basic food and poured good booze. The room was much deeper than it was wide. The long bar was along the left side as one entered the front door and several booths lined the right side. There were three pool tables in the far back with low hanging lamps over them. There was a small kitchen beyond the bar where the cook served up food from a small menu: burgers, hotdogs, fries, onion rings, chili, and their famous French dip with cole slaw. The place had a varied clientele, but it was mostly a hangout for rough bikers.

  It was 5 P.M. and Sam was enjoying a Cutty and water and chatting with Sparky, the owner, who was behind the bar. Sparky was a big Irishman with white, thinning hair, a big nose that had been broken more than once, and clear blue eyes. He stood about six feet two inches and weighed in at 250 pounds. No one knew his exact age, but he performed the bouncing job himself and it was said not even the tough bikers that hung out at the bar dared to get him riled. Besides, he kept a baseball bat and a sawed-off shotgun in easy reach behind the bar and was not afraid to use either. Sam had run into Sparky a couple of times in Saigon. Sparky had been a Gunnery Sergeant then, Sam a Corporal. There were several black-and-white framed photos on the wall behind the bar depicting Marine buddies of Sparky’s.