Crown's Law

by Wolf Wootan

  “No, I haven’t. The pool it is. Let’s go get changed, Becky, while Sam concocts me some sort of tropical drink,” smiled Bo, remembering the one on the boat earlier. Sam smiled back, recalling every second of their lovemaking.

  Sam put the drinks in heavy plastic glasses—Becky’s sans rum—so they could take them pool-side. Real glasses weren’t allowed in the pool area. Then he went to his room and slipped into a pair of red trunks. Becky took Bo through the locked safety gate to the pool and Sam followed with a tray of drinks and a bowl of Macadamia nuts.

  Once again, Bo was awestruck when she entered the pool area. It was as if she had stepped into a tropical paradise—much like she had fantasized about on the boat earlier. It reminded her of The Blue Lagoon. There were palms of various sizes, tropical ferns, splashing waterfalls, and a free form, black-bottomed pool with a spa on one end.

  “My God!” she exclaimed. “I feel like I’ve just stepped into a different world! I didn’t realize this was even here! You said a pool, but . . .”

  “Hawaii without the plane ride,” laughed Sam as he set the tray down on a table at poolside. The umbrellas over the tables sported fish and shell designs, even some seahorses.

  Bo and Sam sat and sipped their drinks, but Becky went to the diving rock and dove in. She swam a quick lap around the large pool. Bo watched every smooth stroke, every kick of the legs. Sam watched Bo’s chest heave. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  Bo whispered, her eyes misting, “Doesn’t watching her make your heart overflow with love, Sam?”

  He switched his eyes to her face and replied, “I’ve never thought those exact words, but I guess they’re accurate. Everything she does pleases me immensely, even when she’s devious. Like trying to set us up with a date tonight.”

  “I thought that was sweet, too. You don’t mind that I included her, do you? I so enjoy spending time with her. You, too, of course. But . . .”

  “That’s all right,” he interrupted. “I owed Becky some time, also. I was being selfish. I wanted you alone again.”

  “We’ll figure something out later. I think I’ll join Becky in that unbelievably gorgeous pool. Join us?”

  They swam, played “Marco Polo,” and Becky demonstrated her best cannonball. After awhile, they moved to the spa and turned up the heat and activated the bubble jets. The women giggled, laughed boisterously, and talked about a lot of nothing—enjoying themselves immensely. Sam was content to watch the interplay, a wan smile on his lips. He couldn’t believe that Bo would disappear from their lives tomorrow. When she left, would the entire weekend evaporate in a puff of smoke, as if it had never happened? Should he try to do something about that? Could he, even if he tried?

  Becky left the spa to go shower and look for something for Bo to wear to dinner. Bo said she’d be up momentarily.

  When Becky was gone, Bo said to Sam, “That stuff in the manila folder? You had that ready before I even came to town, didn’t you?”

  Sam scooted over next to her, put his arm around her, cupped a breast with his hand. “Yes. I hadn’t decided what I wanted to do with it yet. Taken by itself, it’s not very much. I probably would have taken it to Carl at the Santa Ana FBI office if you hadn’t shown up. I know him well.”

  “But you could have given it to me on Friday. You really were trying to seduce me, weren’t you?” she giggled.

  “Of course. I told you that up front. I really never thought you’d come here for the weekend. It was a lame try. Why did you, by the way?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s definitely not my style. A combination of things, I guess. I was lonely. Didn’t even want to be here—away from home. A beach house versus Motel 6—or a weekend with that asshole SAC. You intrigued me in some indefinable way. The clincher was when you told me about the chaperone: Becky. I just had to meet her after the précis you gave me. I’m certainly glad that I did. She’s such a sweetheart!”

  “Foul mouth, brains, sneakiness and all?”

  “Yes. The whole package.”

  “So . . . what made you decide to come after me like a bitch in heat?” he chortled.

  She elbowed him. “I did not!”

  Then, after a beat, she added, “Yes, I guess I did, didn’t I? It just seemed right—at the time. Are you angry with me about that? I did cheapen myself. I hope you don’t think of me as a horny slut! I assure you that I’ve never done anything like this before!”

  “Do you hear me complaining? I like horny sluts.”

  He kissed her. She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “We’d better get ready for dinner,” she said, changing the subject, “before this gets out of hand. Can Becky see us from upstairs?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’ll remember that.”

  ***

  Sam was used to Bo taking his breath away, but when she came down the stairs with Becky, she made it happen all over again. Becky was, of course, her usual pretty self in a light green dress with spaghetti straps and matching low-heeled pumps. Bo, on the other hand, was absolutely stunning! Becky had talked Bo into wearing one of his mother’s expensive cocktail dresses—one by some famous designer Sam couldn’t remember. It was a black, strapless thing that clung to her body like paint, came to mid-thigh—showed a lot of leg. He was sure his mother hadn’t worn that dress in quite awhile. It had a matching jacket, which Bo had slung over her arm. She had a string of pearls around her neck, pearl earrings.

  Thank you, Becky! I’d have never seen her like this if you hadn’t lied about the dress code! I owe you one! Even though I know you’re a devious, scheming brat!

  “Wow!” exclaimed Sam. “What a pair of beautiful ladies! I’ll be the talk of the restaurant!”

  Becky laughed. “It’s not about you, Sam! We’re the ones making the statement!”

  “And what a statement! Maybe I should go put on a tie!”

  Sam had dressed in brown slacks, a tweed jacket, and a tan turtleneck shirt.

  Bo said, “You look just fine, Sam! Devilishly dashing!”

  “This calls for the Lincoln, eh, Beck? No squeezing you two ladies into the Camaro. Let me get the keys.”

  He went to the kitchen and took a set of keys from a peg on the key rack. The Lincoln Town Car belonged to his parents.

  “I’ll back the car out. You two wait out front. I don’t want you traipsing through the garage dressed like that!”

  Chapter 34

  Sunday, June 3, 2001

  San Clemente, CA

  Sam drove down PCH to Avenida Del Mar and hung a right towards the ocean. He wound his way down to Avenida Victoria and turned left. He dropped the two ladies as close to the pier as he could, then went in search of a parking place big enough for the Lincoln. He tried two different places, but gave up and moved on. He was used to parking his smaller Camaro. He finally found one big enough and eased the car alongside the curb, locked it, and walked down the hill to the restaurant. They had a nice table for four at a window looking out to the ocean and the pier. Becky slipped into one window chair and pointed at the other one for Bo. Still in manipulation mode, Becky put her purse and coat on the chair next to her so Sam would have to sit next to Bo. Mission accomplished! Sam took Bo’s purse and wrap and put them on the chair with Becky’s. Becky thought she was very clever!

  Bo noticed right away that she and Becky were the only women in dresses, but it didn’t bother her. She knew they were the most elegant threesome in the place.

  They all ordered the salmon, and Sam ordered a good bottle of white wine for him and Bo to share. Becky ordered Sprite. Becky and Bo continued their friendly banter throughout dinner. Bo thought the choice of restaurants was “just divine.” That pleased Becky.

  Sam held up his end of the conversation, but he had spotted a woman two tables away who kept glancing in their direction, distracting him. She was with a man and a teenaged girl. Sam didn’t recognize them, though he racked his memory.

  As Sam and the girls were finishing their dessert, th
e woman and the girl got up and approached Sam’s table.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the woman said. “I hate to interrupt you when you’re dining with your nice family, but if you are who I think you are, I’ve been searching for you for several years. Would your name be Crown? Samuel Crown? A former detective with the Orange County Sheriff’s Department?”

  Sam could think of no reason to be shifty with her about who he was—even if she was someone he had arrested in the past. She looked harmless enough, and had a kid with her.

  “Yes, I am. And you are . . .?” he said as he began to stand.

  “Please stay seated, Mr. Crown. I won’t take but a moment of your time. My name is Irene Franco, but I remarried a year ago, so—if you remember me at all—you would know me by the name Culvert. This is my daughter Sally. You saved both our lives in 1995 and I’ve been looking for you to thank you personally. Sally was barely 8 years old then. Now she’s nearly 15.”

  Sam remembered the name clearly now. He also remembered the 8-year-old Sally he had carried out of the house in Dana Point where he had shot and killed her crazed father.

  “No thanks are necessary, Mrs. Franco. I was just doing my job,” said Sam. Bo and Becky were listening intently. “I see you’ve grown into quite a young lady, Sally. I’m sorry we met under such unfortunate circumstances. I’m glad you’re both doing well.”

  Sally smiled nervously.

  Irene Franco went on, “I heard later, after I recovered from my wounds, that you had lost your job because of your heroic feat. Even though I couldn’t find you, I wrote literally dozens of letters—to the mayor, the police commission, the Board of Supervisors. I don’t suppose the letters did any good?”

  Sam stood and took her hand. “My leaving the Department had nothing to do with you, Mrs. Franco, but I sincerely thank you for your letters of support. It was time for me to move on.”

  “I know you’re just saying that to relieve my guilt, but thank you. You have such a lovely family. I hope they appreciate you for the brave man that you are. I see this young lady is about Sally’s age. Is she your daughter?”

  Before Sam could answer with a convoluted explanation of who she was, Becky interjected, “Yes, I am. My name is Becky, and I’m 16. And we are very proud of my father. Thanks for your kind words. Not everyone would take the time.”

  By now, Mr. Franco had joined the group and introduced himself, shaking hands with Sam.

  “My wife has spoken of you many times, Mr. Crown. Let me add my sincere thanks, also. If there’s ever anything we can do for you, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

  He handed Sam a business card and the group went back to their table. Sam sat down and had a sip of wine as he looked at the card: Paul Franco was the managing partner of a law firm in Dana Point. Sam slipped the card into his jacket pocket.

  Bo lifted an eyebrow and said, “Well? Are you going to fill us in? Becky seems mystified, also.”

  “It happened a few years before Becky came along,” he explained.

  He gave them a brief overview of the incident, leaving out some of the political details.

  Becky said, “Well, I’m glad you went in that house and saved the two of them! I don’t see why you had to quit!”

  “Well, look at the good side, Beck. If I hadn’t quit, I’d have never been in Irvine in my van when you needed help,” smiled Sam.

  Becky grinned. “I guess you’re right! Fate’s a funny thing, huh?”

  Becky was still savoring the inner warmth she had felt when Mrs. Franco had mentioned Sam’s “lovely family.”

  The three of them did feel like family, didn’t they?

  When the bill came, Bo slipped Sam her credit card.

  “I’ll let you handle this so it won’t be obvious that I’m paying. I wouldn’t want to dent your male ego.”

  “I think it’s silly of you to pay—I can afford it—but I won’t argue with you. Life’s too short to quibble over the small things. Becky and I thank you for such a wonderful meal and such pleasant company.”

  Becky said, “Yeah, thanks, Bo. This was really fun. Before I forget, can we exchange phone numbers and email addresses now? You might need to contact me about the . . . squirt gun.” She laughed. “Or something.”

  “By all means, Becky. Hand me my purse and I’ll give you a business card. I can write my personal numbers on the back.”

  When the waiter brought the check back, Bo added the tip and signed it—tucked her credit card back in her purse.

  “We’ll go to the powder room while you fetch our chariot, Sam,” laughed Bo.

  ***

  Back at the beach house, Becky kissed them both on the cheek.

  “Good night, you guys. I had a wonderful time! A fantastic weekend, in fact! I probably won’t see you in the morning, Bo. I have an 8 o’clock, so I’ll leave early to beat the traffic. Just put Nana’s dress on a hanger and hang it on the hook outside the closet. I’ll leave a note for Nikki to send it to the cleaners.”

  She hugged Bo again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Bo. Goodnight!”

  Then she hurried upstairs before they could see her tears.

  “Who’s Nikki?” asked Bo.

  “Housekeeper. Errand runner. She comes in three times a week. More if we need her. Or if Becky needs someone—sometimes she stays with Becky if all of us are tied up,” explained Sam.

  “What now?” asked Bo. “Will you take me back to Santa Ana tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Do you have any specific time to be there tomorrow?”

  “No. I left it open.”

  “Well, like Becky said, the traffic is murder on Monday mornings during rush hour. We could leave about ten, get you there by eleven. Maybe a little earlier. That means we don’t have to go to bed too early. Why don’t you go get out of that dress while I fix us a drink. Maybe we could go skinny-dipping in the spa.”

  Bo laughed. “I’m not promising that! But I’ll have the drink and hit the spa again. That was quite relaxing.”

  “Can I come up and watch you undress?”

  “Absolutely not! Becky’s up there!”

  “OK. See you in a few.”

  ***

  Bo joined Sam at the wet bar on the deck a few minutes later. She was wearing a terry robe over her blue two-piece. The temperature had dropped and the air was nippy. She sat on a bar stool and watched Sam put the finishing touches on two tropical rum drinks in tall, blue plastic glasses. He handed her one.

  “Test it,” he said.

  She sipped on the straw and pronounced, “Umm! Perfect for The Blue Lagoon. Are you certain that Becky can’t see the pool area from upstairs?”

  “Sure. Besides, she’s sound asleep by now. She has an early morning, remember? Let’s go fire up the spa. That’ll ward off the chill in the air.”

  “Until we try to get out!”

  “Yeah. You’ll freeze your beautiful ass!”

  Once they were settled in the hot water, Bo lit a cigarette and got comfortable. She had a blue plastic ashtray on the tiles next to her drink.

  “God, this is the life!” she exclaimed as she blew a stream of smoke into the starlit sky. “I don’t want this to end!”

  “It doesn’t have to—at least, not right away. I would think you have a few days work to do with Carl Fenster in Santa Ana. You’re welcome to stay here, of course. I’ll be at the Mickey office all this week, so I’m available to chauffeur you both ways. Plus, I have an apartment in Tustin. Nothing like this, of course, but it beats Motel 6. And it’s private.”

  “You are a real pro at this seducing game, aren’t you?” giggled Bo as she moved her body against his. “You keep the temptation dangling out there. Full court press.”

  “No pressure. You can play it by ear. You’ll have my cell phone number.”

  “What will Pearl at your office think of all this?”

  “We’re investigating.”

  “Bull shit! She’s not that dumb, is she?”

  “No. She’s actua
lly very brilliant. But she’s not an issue. We’ll do whatever we decide. You decide, that is.”

  Bo had put out her cigarette and, without Sam knowing it, had slipped off her bikini bottom. She moved off the seat in the spa and positioned herself in front of him. She put her arms around his neck and gave him a sensuous kiss, adding tongue at the end. His right hand stroked her bare buttocks. He was surprised to find that her suit bottom was missing.

  “I’ve never had sex in a spa before. Do you recommend it?” she asked, her hand going to his crotch.

  “Highly,” he replied.

  She pulled his trunks off and threw them on the pool deck.

  “What’s the best position? I’m floating all over the place. You know how naive I am. Teach me,” she whispered in his ear, nibbling it.

  Chapter 35

  Monday, June 4, 2001

  Capistrano Beach, CA

  Bo was up and in the shower at 7:30 A.M., even though she hadn’t come up to her room until after midnight. She and Sam had frolicked like horny sea otters. She dressed in the second pant suit she had brought, a dark brown one, then packed her bag. She wasn’t sure what her schedule would be. She might be ordered back to D.C. this afternoon. She checked herself in the closet mirror, then grabbed her bag and went downstairs to the kitchen. Sam wasn’t up yet, but she saw a nearly full pot of coffee warming in the coffee maker. There was a folded piece of paper next to it, leaning against an empty mug. The paper had “Bo” written on it. She poured herself a mug of coffee and went out to the deck and sat down at a table with an ashtray and lit her first cigarette of the day. Then she opened the note.

  Dear Bo: I made the coffee at 6 this A.M., so I hope it’s still OK when you get up. Hope I see you tonight, but if not, have a good flight home. One thing I forgot to discuss with you is my commencement day for my PhDs. It’s 10 A.M. on Saturday the 15th. I’m gonna get you a ticket for it today. Sam and his parents will be there, too. It’s a big day for me. Please try and be there!