Crown's Law (34 page)

Bo sucked in her breath.

My God! So
Dynology
already has it! We weren’t
sure if the info had been passed yet! I’ve got to get this
information to D.C. ASAP! Now, how do I contain this? I can’t tell
Sam and Becky what this is all about! Shit!

Bo continued to stare at the page, not
understanding any of it, but Becky had deciphered it! What a
girl!

“You’re sure about this, Becky?” she
asked.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t ask that,” laughed
Becky. She wanted to tell Bo about her new and better design, but
Sam had told her to keep that quiet for now.

“I’m sorry, Becky! It’s . . . just so
amazing! I can’t fathom how brilliant you are! Does anyone else
know about this discovery?”

Becky replied, “Just me and Sam. Not
even Pearl. We didn’t know who to tell, then you showed up. It may
not mean anything. But my question was, what is a company
like
Dynology
doing with the
design of a sub engine? Do you know, Bo?”

“No. Did anyone see you copy this stuff down
when you were taking your test?”

“Heavens no! I couldn’t take anything out of
there. I memorized the equations.”

“God! I forgot your fabulous memory,
too!”

Bo got up and paced the deck for a moment,
then said, “I have to put my FBI hat on now, guys. I have to ask
you not to mention this discovery to anyone else—at least until
I’ve forwarded this to my group in Washington for analysis. If it
turns out to be nothing, then . . .”

“Oh, it’s a sub engine,” said Becky.
“Or perhaps a very powerful, very expensive squirt gun! I don’t
think you’ll find one like this at
Toys
‘Я’ Us
! If I were you, I’d take a good look at that
place. Tap all their phones, and stuff. Like in the movies. Or
the
X-Files
.”

“Well, I can’t talk about stuff like that,
Becky,” she laughed, trying to diffuse Becky’s enthusiasm. “What I
do is highly classified.”

Becky pushed the manila folder over to Bo and
said, “Everything is documented in here in more detail.”

“Thanks, Becky. You’d make a fine FBI
agent.”

“I know. I do all sorts of detective stuff
with Sam. We’re like Holmes and Watson—except we never agree on
who’s who,” giggled Becky. “I’m very sleuthy!”

“I’ll fax all of this stuff to my boss
tomorrow, then we’ll see what’s next,” said Bo as she sat back
down. “I believe you when you say it’s a sub engine, but I know
you, and my team doesn’t. They’ll want to do their own
analysis.”

“There’s a fax on Sam’s computer. You could
send it from there,” urged Becky.

“I’ll have to use a secure fax in the FBI
office in Santa Ana, Beck. I have to go there in the morning anyway
to handle those pirates,” answered Bo.

Sam decided to bring an end to this
subject. “Well, there you have it, Bo. I agree with Becky. You
should put a microscope on
Dynology
. Enough of this for now. It’s—let’s
see—5:21. What fun thing should we do to finish off the
weekend?”

Becky decided this was a good opportunity to
play matchmaker. To her knowledge, Sam hadn’t taken Bo out yet. She
made her move.

“Hey, Sam, why don’t you take Bo out
for a nice dinner tonight? Say, to the San Clemente Pier. You
know,
The Fisherman’s
, best
seafood in town! Except for that terrible boat ride, she hasn’t
been out of this house. I’m no expert on this, but isn’t that rude
somehow?”

Sam liked the suggestion, because knowing
that Bo wouldn’t have sex with him with Becky in the house, he
figured they could sneak down to the boat after dinner and have a
quickie. Bo might agree to that.

Bo had other ideas. Not that she wouldn’t
like dinner alone with Sam, but she wanted to spend what could be
her last night here doing something that involved Becky. Her
maternal instincts were boiling over.

Bo said, “I think that’s kind of you to
suggest something so Sam doesn’t have to cook tonight, Becky, so I
suggest the three of us go out together. My treat, though. I
insist! I need something to put on my expense report.”

Drats! Foiled again!
thought Becky. But in reality, she wouldn’t mind spending
more time with Bo, and she hadn’t been out to dinner with Sam for
awhile either, which she always enjoyed.

“You’re the guest, Bo. Whatever you want,”
said Becky with a shrug.

Sam felt guilty for feeling disappointed
because he did enjoy taking Becky out. But his sex plans were
dashed.

“OK with you, Sam?” asked Bo, an eyebrow
raised.

“Sure,” answered Sam as he shot her a
questioning look.

She knew what he meant, but she would deal
with that later. “What do I wear to this restaurant? As you can
tell from my one bag, I didn’t bring a lot of clothing on this
trip.”

Before Sam could give his stock answer of
“this is the beach—anything is OK,” Becky—playing matchmaker
still—said, “I think we should wear dresses. If you didn’t bring
one, don’t worry. You’re the same size as my Nana, and she has a
closet full of things to choose from. Right, Sam?”

Why you little minx!
thought Sam.
What are you up to? You
always wear jeans and sneakers when we go there!

Sam said, “That would be fine, Beck. I’ll
call and make reservations for eightish. They don’t really take
reservations for less than eight people, but I know the manager.
That gives us a couple of hours to kill. This iced tea has died, so
how about a real drink, Bo? We have time for a quick dip in the
ocean—or the pool, if you prefer. What do you say?”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Becky. “You haven’t even
been in the pool yet, Bo! Have you even seen it?”

“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!”

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.