Crown's Law (35 page)

As Sam and the girls were finishing their
dessert, the 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 actually 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.

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!


Becky

Bo’s eyes got misty as she read the note. She
got up and went to the bar and retrieved the box of tissues Sam
kept there. She dabbed her eyes carefully, not wanting to destroy
what little makeup she had applied. She stared out to sea for a
bit, smoking. Then she took a swallow of coffee and read the note
again.

Becky, Becky, Becky! I would love to share
your big moment with you, but I don’t know if it’s possible!

She had some phone calls to make, so
she got her phone out of her shoulder bag. As a senior member of
the Joint Task Force Espionage (JTFE), she rated one of the newest
encrypted satellite phones. She called her boss in D.C.—Supervisory
Agent Dennis Davenport—first. She told him what she would be faxing
him later that morning from the Santa Ana FBI office. She asked him
to have some good mathematicians analyze the equations and see if
it was good enough information to get a judge to authorize wiretaps
at
Dynology
. Dennis said that
if she was right about it being part of the stolen sub engine
documentation, they probably could. It could be a big break for
them! Bo felt pleased. Dennis didn’t mention Mickey Malone and
neither did Bo. She didn’t want to try to explain that!

After chatting with her boss, she called Carl
Fenster at the Santa Ana FBI office and told him her plans. He said
he would be waiting for her.

She had been pacing the far end of the deck
while on the phone, so as not to disturb Sam. Now she went to the
kitchen and poured a second mug of coffee. Back outside, she lit
another cigarette and reread Becky’s note for the third time.

“Good morning, pretty lady,” said Sam as he
walked up behind her with a mug of coffee.

Bo jumped, startled, yanked from her reverie.
“Damn you! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry, Bo. I should have made some noise.
What are you reading?”

Sam was dressed in one of his Aloha shirts,
jeans, and loafers. He had showered and shaved. Bo could smell his
aftershave cologne. She fought off a twinge of desire.

“A note from Becky. She wants me to come to
the ceremony for her doctorates. It’s such a sweet thought, but who
knows where I’ll be? Besides, it should be a family thing—just you
and your parents,” said Bo, handing him the note.

Sam scanned it and handed it back.

“I’ll second her invitation. I’d love to have
an excuse to see you again,” chuckled Sam as he sat down next to
her with his coffee. “If you’re stuck in D.C. that weekend—and have
the weekend off—you could catch the redeye Friday night into John
Wayne. I’d pick you up.”

“Did you put her up to this?” queried Bo.

“Absolutely not! I haven’t seen her since she
went up to bed last night. She has a mind of her own, and she isn’t
afraid to be devious and manipulative to get her way,” replied Sam,
remembering her tactics of last night.

“How can you say such a cruel thing about
that darling girl?” snapped Bo.

“She’s darling all right, but I know her
better than you do. Want some breakfast? Eggs? Melon? Toast?”

“Maybe a piece of toast and a slice of melon.
I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” she answered.

“Ho! You weren’t being that considerate last
night!” he laughed.

She blushed, remembering their intricate
gyrations in the water last night. He disappeared into the house
before she could think of a witty retort.

***

At 10:48 A.M., Sam whipped his Camaro into a
loading zone in front of the building on Civic Center Drive in
Santa Ana that housed FBI headquarters. He said, “Want to leave
your bag in my car? That way you won’t have to lug it around.”