Crown's Law (7 page)

“I’ve been reading the encyclopedia, and I
read about the CIA. Were you a spy?” she asked.

And so it went for an hour. By the time
dinner was served, John was in no hurry to get rid of Becky Rogers.
He would concentrate on what to do about her schooling first—and
then track down that bastard of a stepfather! In the meantime, she
could just stay here. Maybe he would take her fishing and . . .

***

Sam got tied up on a job in
Investigations
International’s
L.A. office on Monday and did
not get back down to the beach house again until Tuesday the 11th
of August. Becky was still there, of course. He arrived at 11:00
A.M. and found the three of them out on the deck sprawled on
lounges—redwood frames with soft pads covered in blue sail cover
canvas. Becky and Sam’s dad were playing chess—the chess board on a
round redwood table between their lounges—and his mother was on her
cell phone yakking away.

They all looked up and waved to him. He waved
back, a dashing figure in his flowery Hawaiian shirt and dark
aviator glasses. The others were all in bathing suits, so Sam went
to his room and changed into one before joining them. He went to
the outside wet bar on the deck and fixed himself a Bloody
Mary.

He strolled over and watched the chess game.
Becky was very close to checkmating John.

“Hi, Sam,” she said, looking up at him, a
slight smile on her lips.

“Hi, Becky. How have things gone for you
since I last saw you?” asked Sam.

“Awesome! Your parents have been very kind to
me!”

John Crown spoke up. “I’ve been trying to
find something I can beat her at, but so far no luck!”

“I was happy just reading, Mr. Crown. This
was your idea!” giggled Becky.

“The kid reads too much, Sam. I’m just trying
to give her a more varied set of activities. Why don’t you take her
in the water? I’ve lost this game!”

“How about it, Becky? Want to hit the surf?”
asked Sam.

“Sure. Can I use one of those body
boards?”

“Grab one! Last one in is a rotten egg!”

They were back after 30 minutes and Sam added
some ice to his Bloody Mary. Becky stretched out on a lounge to let
the sun dry her off, and began reading a technical tome, her funky
reading glasses perched on her nose.

“She needs better glasses,” said Sam to his
mother, who was off the phone now.

“I know, dear. I took her to Dr. Johansson
yesterday and her new glasses will be ready next Tuesday,” Helena
responded with a smile.

Hmm
, thought
Sam.
Looks like Mom has a new project! Oh,
well. It’ll keep her young, and the kid does need help.

Sam asked, “How did it work out—having Becky
here? She behaving OK?”

“She’s an angel! There are some things that I
need your help on, however, Samuel. Most urgent is her sister. You
need to arrange to have her body retrieved from the morgue so we
can give her a proper funeral. Rebecca needs some closure on this,”
said Helena.

“Any other miracles you need today?” laughed
Sam.

“You figure it out, dear. You’re the
detective. Also, later today your father and I need to discuss our
plan for Becky’s schooling. But first, why don’t you grill some of
that salmon for lunch? Becky is acquiring a taste for fish,” said
Helena with a flip of her hand. “I’ll make a nice salad.”

Tuesday, August 11, 1998

Beach Road, Capistrano Beach, CA

After lunch, Sam sat on a lounge next to
Becky’s and asked her, “Becky, didn’t you tell me you had a picture
of Rachel?”

“Yes, sir. Why?”

“I have to figure out a way of claiming her
body without involving you. If you got involved as next of kin,
then who knows what would happen? I think if I had her picture, I
could say I have an anonymous client looking for a missing person.
They might release her body to me for my client,” explained
Sam.

“It would be great if you could do that! Then
we could give her a decent burial somewhere,” replied Becky. “I
have a good picture!”

“OK, I’ll give it a try tomorrow. The problem
is, of course, that this will identify her for sure—if they haven’t
already done so. Her fingerprints or driver’s license probably took
care of that though. They will do a check for relatives.”

Becky thought for a moment, then said, “She
was killed in Irvine. Maybe they won’t look here.”

Sam did not explain to Becky the intricacies
of how the police searched for people. Instead he said, “There
shouldn’t be a lot of resistance. The County has to bury her if no
one claims her. What are you reading?”

“It’s a book on quantum physics. I’m learning
to relate mathematical constructs to physical phenomena. It’s quite
interesting,” replied Becky as she squinted over her reading
glasses, which had slipped down on her nose. “Next comes particle
physics. That’s when it gets really exciting!”

“Er, sure. It beats Harry Potter any old
day,” he laughed.

“Oh, I read all of those books. I wanted to
know what all the fuss was about,” grinned Becky. “I suppose
reading stuff for pure pleasure and escapism is all right now and
then, but I have so much to learn so I don’t do it often.”

Unbelievable!
thought Sam.
She’s simply a
treasure!

Sam mused, “Sometimes you can learn a lot
from reading other people’s fiction. Language usage and structure.
How their thought processes work. How they view the world.”

“I suppose that’s true. I’ll slip a few more
into my reading schedule.”

Helena Crown came out onto the deck carrying
a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies. She took them to one
of the umbrella-covered tables and put them down.

“All right, everyone! Family meeting! Grab a
glass from the bar and come join me, please,” announced Helena in
her authoritative voice.

Sam wondered,
Family
meeting? What’s this all
about?

Sam grabbed four tall glasses from the bar
and took them to the table, then went back and prepared a bucket of
ice cubes. The four of them sat down and Sam, John, and Becky all
looked at Helena and waited.

“First of all, I want to make it clear,
Rebecca, that the plans we’re going to discuss involve you. If you
don’t like them, you speak up! That sharp mind of yours may see a
flaw—or an alternate path to follow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Becky, wondering what
was in store for her now.

“What we’re mainly going to discuss is how to
proceed with Rebecca’s schooling,” Helena continued. “Wasting time
sitting around in school is not appropriate for her.”

Sam interjected, “You mean switch her to home
schooling? Something like that?”

“A partial solution, but still too
time-consuming. Before I continue, I must ask you a question,
Rebecca. Whatever course of action we pursue will require that you
stay here with us for the foreseeable future. Is that acceptable to
you? Are you comfortable here?”

Becky’s eyes began to tear up a little, so
she wiped the back of her hand across her face.

“Oh, you’ve been so wonderful to me, Mrs.
Crown. Mr. Crown. You, too, Sam. I keep thinking I’m in a fairy
tale and it’s all going to end! What more could a girl ask for? I
have my own room, books to read, wonderful people looking after me!
The ocean! I . . .”

She could not continue. She buried her face
in her hands. John Crown reached over and patted her shoulder.

“There, there, Becky! Don’t let her upset
you! We just want to make sure you’re happy here,” he said.

Sam got up and grabbed a box of tissues from
the bar and put them on the table in front of Becky. She took a
couple and blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“I’m sorry! It’s just . . . I’ve never been
treated so nice before. Rachel tried, but . . .”

Helena said, “You’ll never be treated badly
again, dear! I’ll see to that! Before we move on to your schooling,
is there anything you need, dear? Or want?”

“Oh, no, ma’am!” spouted Becky—then she
looked up. “There is one thing though. Do you think I could use the
computer in Sam’s room sometimes? I jot ideas down all the time,
and it would be nice to use a word processor to type them up. And
internet access would be useful. We learned how to use that in the
8th grade.”

“Of course, dear. Why didn’t you mention it
earlier? Samuel, will you show her what she needs to know to use
your computer? Then, as an action item for you, John, call one of
your computer buddies and get Rebecca one of those laptop things so
she can have it in her room,” said Helena.

“Sure, dear,” said John as he pushed tobacco
into his pipe. “I’ll get one with a wireless modem.”

“Whatever. Now, I’ve talked to some of my
friends from my various committees—discretely, of course—about
various approaches for handling gifted children. I never mentioned
Rebecca, of course—just talked about hypothetical situations.
They’re all used to me doing that, so I don’t think I aroused any
suspicions.”

John lit his pipe and said, “Get on with it,
woman!”

“Well, first we arrange for Rebecca to take
some tests—like GED tests—and get high school officially out of the
way. You could pass such tests, couldn’t you, dear?”

“I’m sure I could. It would help if I knew
the areas of interest, and the scope. I could brush up in a day or
two,” replied Becky with a furrowed brow. “I never forget anything,
but there may be areas I’ve missed somehow.”

“I thought so. With that done, we go to UCI
and get the chancellor to assign Rebecca a mentor—or whatever you
call it. She will then zip through college courses as indicated by
her mentor. Get her degree in, say, mathematics. She seems to like
that. This way, she’ll never get bored, and can study at her own
pace. What do you think?”

“Sounds like a plan, Mom, but I see a couple
of problems,” said Sam.

“That’s why we’re having this meeting,
Samuel. Lay out the problems so we can solve them,” Helena
replied.

Sam sipped some lemonade, then said, “First,
Becky—on her own—can’t do any of that. She’s only 13, for Christ’s
sake!”

“Language, dear!” said Helena.

“Sorry. I mean, these people will be looking
for a parent—or a legal guardian—to bring Becky to these tests. She
can’t just walk in and say, ‘I’m smart, give me a test!’” exclaimed
Sam.

“I know. I have a solution for that. You’ll
go to that judge you know—Judge Manley. He was in Vietnam with you.
You saved his life, I believe. You’ll have him make you Rebecca’s
legal guardian without a lot of scrutiny or red tape. Then you can
run interference for Rebecca,” said Helena.

The fact that Lt. Manley had become a
Superior Court judge had proved useful to Sam in the past. Manley
would do most anything for Sam—as long as it was legal.

“Me? What do I know about being a guardian
for a 13-year-old?” exclaimed Sam.

“Just consider her a client, dear. Take care
of your client. Now, what was your other point?”

Sam was flabbergasted! His mother’s plan made
sense, but he wondered if he was the right person to carry it out.
He decided to drop it for now and discuss alternatives later, out
of earshot of Becky. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“The second point is, with all this testing
and studying at such an accelerated rate, when does Becky get to be
a kid? Interact with other children? Have a life?” Sam added.

“That is a problem, but I have a partial
solution. I’ll enroll her in the Grayson Academy. They’ll teach her
social graces—I’ll help with that, too, of course—dancing,
interpersonal dialogs. That sort of thing. All the pre-debutantes
go there for their training. There will be boys and girls of her
age there,” replied Helena.

“Rather stuffy solution,” interjected John,
“but a good idea. We’ll need to supplement that somehow.”

“Well, the plan can be refined as we get into
it. Now, Rebecca, what do you think of all of this?”

Becky, of course, was overwhelmed.

“
I think it’s great! Do you really mean
it?” exclaimed Becky, grinning from ear to ear.

She jumped up and ran to Helena and hugged
her.

“Yes, Rebecca, we mean it,” replied Helena as
she patted Becky’s back. “There will be house rules, of course. The
most important one is that you will never lie to us about anything.
Always tell the truth and we can work out any problem.”

Becky made the rounds, hugging everyone.

Sam’s emotions were in turmoil. He did not
relish being responsible for other people’s welfare. That was why
he had turned down a field commission in ’Nam—balked at promotion
in the OCSD. He could look after himself very well, but a
13-year-old girl? He wasn’t sure. Was it fair to her?

Helena continued, “Having admonished you
about telling the truth, Rebecca, I am sorry to say that we must
start this relationship with a white lie. It should not harm
anyone, however. We will say that you are a relative. You can call
me ‘Nana’ and Mr. Crown ‘Grandpa.’ Samuel will be an uncle. That
way, your living here will not raise a lot of unwarranted
questions. Besides, we want you to feel as if you are a
relative.”

Sam said, “The judge is the only hurdle for
that. He may want to see some proof.”

Helena frowned. “Try it anyway, dear. If it
turns out that you need papers of some sort, talk to your father.
I’m sure his old boy’s network can still come up with something.
Right, John?”

John Crown shrugged and puffed on his pipe.
“I’m retired, dear.”

“Of course you are, dear,” said Helena,
knowing her husband could still work mystical things. She had made
her wishes known—that was enough.