Crown's Law

by Wolf Wootan

  “Well, for tonight at least, we’ll get her cleaned up and let her get a good night’s sleep. Then, tomorrow we’ll think things through. Your father should be back from his fishing trip tomorrow. Maybe he’ll have some ideas—he’s spent his life planning unreal things. One thing is for sure: I will not let that child go back into the streets!” exclaimed Helena.

  ***

  Becky came down the stairs dressed in clean clothes, but they were as shabby and faded as the ones she had removed. Her blonde hair was clean and shiny now, and she had brushed it out. It hung loosely to her shoulders.

  “Thank you. I feel much better now, Mrs. Crown,” she said. “I hope my presence is not a great inconvenience to you.”

  “And you look much better, too! How about some milk and cookies now?” beamed Helena. “It’s been awhile since Samuel gorged you with that terrible junk food. You’re going to have to start eating more nutritious meals. You’re all bones!”

  “Milk and cookies sound nice. Thank you.”

  “Good. Let’s go into the kitchen and have a nice talk,” said Helena.

  Sam could tell that his mother had slipped into grandmother mode. He hoped she didn’t overdo it—at least not until they knew more about the child genius. Helena was not dealing with a normal child. Plus, the girl must be grieving inside—holding her grief in. Probably not a good thing. Of course, he had always been good at that, so he could relate to her.

  Over milk and chocolate chip cookies, Helena extracted a little more information out of Becky. She had just finished the 8th grade at an Irvine middle school on June 21 and was scheduled to go to Irvine High School in September. Becky said the hardest thing about the 8th grade—she was a straight A student, of course—was remembering what she was supposed to know, and what she wasn’t supposed to know. She did not want to divulge what she really knew and draw too much attention to herself. The only reason she went to school at all was so they would not come looking for her and find out she was living in a car with her sister—and turn her over to Child Protective Services. She spent most of her time in libraries reading and absorbing facts and concepts—knowledge. She was a speed reader with a photographic memory, so she had already learned everything she needed to know to graduate from high school and was well into upper class college courses. She was also working her way through the Encyclopedia Britannica to increase her general knowledge.

  Helena had to ask, “Have you ever . . . er, worked with your sister?”

  “You mean have I been a hooker?” replied Becky without hesitation. “No. Rachel wouldn’t let me—not that I wanted to.”

  Later, Helena walked Becky up to her room and tucked her in the soft bed. Becky lay there for a long time, listening to the waves, before she finally fell asleep.

  Back downstairs, Helena said to Sam, “That poor thing doesn’t even have a nightgown, and her underwear is a disgrace! Tomorrow I’m taking her shopping to get her some decent clothes. She doesn’t even have a bathing suit so she can take a swim! Well, we’ll do something about that!”

  “Don’t get too involved, Mom! We have to decide what to do with her,” said Sam, but he knew the shopping trip would take place no matter what he said.

  ***

  Sunday morning, the three of them had breakfast on the large redwood deck under a blue-and-white-striped umbrella. Becky did not say much, and stared out to sea a lot.

  She ate heartily, however, and spoke whenever she was spoken to. She wolfed down eggs, bacon, hash browns, four pieces of toast with grape jelly, and lots of milk. She felt very sad and alone. She wondered what these nice, friendly people would do with her. She knew their only option was to turn her over to CPS.

  Becky thought, Well, they’ve fed me, so I guess they’ll break the news to me now! CPS, here I come! How do I escape? I’ve got no place to go!

  Becky was surprised when Mrs. Crown said, “Now, Samuel, let’s clear these dishes away and you can take Becky and I shopping. We’re going to get her some new clothes. I won’t see her in these rags another second! Besides, she needs a bathing suit so she can take a dip in the ocean.”

  Becky said, “I can’t afford any clothes, ma’am. I only have a couple of dollars. I was going to get $20 for . . .”

  “Never you mind, child! My platinum credit card will take care of everything quite nicely,” replied Helena with a wave of her hand.

  “Well, can we make it Wal-Mart then? They’re cheaper, and it will take me awhile to pay you back as it is,” Becky complained.

  Poor dear! thought Helena. So proud! I guess I should play along.

  “All right, dear. If that’s how you want it to be. We can go up to Alicia Parkway, Samuel. There’s a Wal-Mart up there I think. I was thinking South Coast Plaza, but this will be closer. Now, let’s get a move on! Mr. Crown called from his boat and said he’ll be home around 3 o’clock. We’ll want to be back by then.”

  That will be the fastest she ever shopped for anything! mused Sam.

  ***

  Becky was panicked at the large amount of clothing Mrs. Crown was buying. Her cash-register brain was adding up the cost as Helena threw things in the shopping cart.

  I’ll never be able to pay for all of this! She’s buying so much! But . . . everything is so beautiful! I’ll figure out a way to repay her . . . somehow!

  When they got back to the beach house, Helena helped Becky put her new clothes in the closet and the dresser. Then she gathered up all of Becky’s tattered clothing and took them away.

  “You won’t be needing these anymore,” she said.

  Becky put on one of her new bathing suits—a pretty red one-piece—and donned her new white coverup. Then she slipped on her new chic sandals and went downstairs to join Sam and Helena on the deck. It was 2 o’clock and Mrs. Crown had fixed tuna sandwiches and Hawaiian potato chips for lunch.

  “I can’t thank you enough for the clothes, Mrs. Crown. I wrote down the amount. I’ll repay you someday,” said Becky as she chomped a potato chip. “That’s a promise!”

  “I’m sure you will, dear. Now, let’s eat, and later you can take a swim. You do know how to swim, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m a good swimmer. I haven’t been in the ocean for awhile, though,” replied Becky.

  Sam went swimming with Becky because he wanted to see for himself how good a swimmer she was. He didn’t want to be responsible for her drowning. While they were in the water, Sam’s father came home from his fishing trip and was briefed by Helena on the Becky situation. Helena gave him the task of figuring out what to do with Becky, subject to Helena’s rules: one, no CPS; two, not on the street again; and three, solve the schooling problem. Becky should not be forced to go through the regular school system as intelligent as she was.

  “That’s a big order,” replied John Crown as he tamped tobacco into his pipe. “That’ll take a lot of figuring.”

  “Take your time. She’ll stay with us until you come up with something. You can discuss it with Samuel. Maybe he has some ideas. And I don’t want the child to know this, but either you or Samuel will find the mother and that depraved stepfather and see that they are properly punished!”

  “Now, Helena . . .”

  “Just do it! I mean it! He could be hurting some other poor child! Take care of it! I know you know how to do it.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  ***

  When Sam and Becky came up from the beach, John Crown was drawn under Becky’s spell immediately. It could have been that he thought of her as the grandchild he had always wanted, but mostly it was Becky herself. She had a way about her that got under people’s skin.

  John Crown sat out on the deck, smoking his pipe, and chatting with her while Sam and his mother began preparing dinner. Sam was going to barbeque some steaks. Becky asked John about his fishing trip, and his boat, and what kind of bait he used. She asked him what kind of work he did before he retired, and when he said he had worked for the CIA, she had some more questions.

&
nbsp; “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.”

  Chapter 7

  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 i
n 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.