Crown's Law

by Wolf Wootan

  ***

  Fenster and the FBI SWAT team arrived ten minutes later, as well as a bunch of Costa Mesa cops. Carl took over the crime scene and issued the necessary orders.

  “Jeez, Sam! There are bodies everywhere! One down in the hedge, three in here. I’ve heard the rumors about you, but now I’ve seen it first hand. Who wants to tell me what happened?”

  Bo said, “First, Carl, get a paramedic in here for Sam. He took one in the chest—in his vest, fortunately. He’s probably got broken ribs—at least a bad bruise. I want him checked out now!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carl replied with a small bow—and a wry smile.

  It took four hours before Sam, Bo, and Becky were released so they could go back to the beach house. It was 5:30 when Sam poured Bo a glass of white wine and fixed himself a Cutty and water. Becky had gone to her room to lie down. She said she didn’t need Dr. Sue when Sam offered to call her.

  “Well,” said Bo, “you had to do it all by yourself, didn’t you?”

  She had already apologized profusely for not protecting Becky. Sam had told her that the ruse of the cop car would have fooled him, too.

  He shrugged. “There was no other way. SWAT would have caused a hostage situation and got both of you killed. And I did have help. Boomer and his guys not only found you, they performed beautifully in helping me rescue you.”

  “I was wondering what all the noise was about. How did you find us? You never made that clear to Fenster. I heard D’Orr’s phone calls and he never got to the point of telling you where we were.”

  “I had a lot of people looking.” He didn’t intend to mention Danny’s Green Dragons. “We got lucky. One of Boomer’s guys spotted Chase buying Italian take-out food last night. Then D’Orr was spotted this morning buying breakfast at the Golden Arches. I knew I had to move quickly while he thought I didn’t know where he was. Catch him by surprise. I told Fenster where you were just before I went in so he could bring his choppers in and cut off their escape—in case something went wrong. I had him standing by.”

  “I’ll have to admit, I never thought you could find us. I was really scared—especially for Becky. You know I would have given my life to have saved her, if I could.”

  “Underestimated me again, eh?” he smiled.

  “I keep doing that. Never again. When I talked to my boss this afternoon, he was upset that no one was left alive to interrogate. He would like to find out who they were selling secrets to.”

  “What an asshole! Damned tunnel vision! Wasn’t he happy that you and Becky were alive? A kidnapping solved? A murder of a Federal agent solved? A big, evil smuggling organization shut down?”

  “He’s just focused on his job,” replied Bo. “He said he was happy it was over. He begrudgingly sends his thanks to you.”

  Sam sipped his drink as he stared at the ocean, not caring what her boss thought.

  “Maybe it’s not over,” he repied enigmatically.

  “We’ll find out who they sold secrets to eventually.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Something else is bothering me.”

  “Well, you’ve had a bad day. A bad week. You need some food—and some rest. Let me go fix us some omelets.”

  Sam laughed, then winced as pain grabbed his chest. “It hurts when I laugh. I’ll go fix the omelets. I can’t stand to watch you murder perfectly good eggs.”

  Chapter 54

  Thursday, July 12, 2001

  Capistrano Beach, CA

  The next morning, Sam’s parents returned home, and they all had lunch together on the deck. Sam and Bo brought them up to date on what had happened. Afterwards, Sam said he had to go out for awhile. He had something to take care of. He had remembered what was bothering him.

  At 4 P.M. Sam steered his red Camaro up a winding road in Laguna Beach and finally pulled into the driveway of a medium-sized cottage. He stepped out of the car and glanced at the view—rolling, green hills to the east, the Pacific Ocean to the west. A choice lot. Fantastic views! He walked up the path to the front door and pushed the doorbell button. He could hear the chimes singing When the Saints Come Marching In inside. The front door opened.

  “Sam!” exclaimed Chandra Claudet with a smile. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

  “Unfinished business. I promised you a scoop on the Dynology story, remember? May I come in?” Sam responded.

  She stepped back and he entered her living room and walked to the large window and stared at the ocean in the distance. He saw two packed suitcases in the attached dining room.

  “Going somewhere, Chandra?” he asked without turning to face her.

  “Yes. I’m taking some vacation time. Lord knows I need it! I haven’t had a day off in months. Can I fix you a drink? I have to leave for the airport soon, but we can have a quick toddy for the body,” she laughed.

  “Sure, why not? Scotch and water if you have it.”

  When their drinks were ready, Chandra sat on the couch and let her short skirt ride up and show a lot of thigh when she crossed her legs.

  “Come sit, Sam,” she cooed.

  “I’ll sit over here, Chandra,” replied Sam, pointing at the chair on the other side of the coffee table. Sam had on a colorful Hawaiian shirt and a tan, light-weight suit. Before he sat, he reached in the left pocket of his suit coat and brought out a handful of quarters. He deposited them on the coffee table with a clatter. Chandra frowned. “What’s this, Sam?”

  “Your thirty pieces of silver, Chandra. For selling out your country,” replied Sam calmly.

  Chandra stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about! Dynology was—among other crimes—selling U.S. military secrets to the Chinese. You were the boss,” he replied gruffly.

  “You’re crazy, Crown! You have no proof of anything like that!” she snapped as she jumped to her feet.

  “Sit, Chandra!” he growled as he drew his gun from his shoulder holster.

  She sat. He sat and placed the Smith .40 on the coffee table. He wished that she would make a grab for it so he could snap her neck!

  “Proof? You mean like evidence for the courtroom? You’re right. We’re not talking ‘courtroom’ here, Chandra. You see, you broke Crown’s Law Number One: Thou shalt not ever fuck with Rebecca Crown! I am the judge, jury, and executioner of that law. You made two attempts on my life—one when Becky was with me on the boat—and one when I was in Colorado. That was bad enough, but then you had your asshole goons put their hands on Becky and kidnap her!” he growled. “And threaten to kill her—and worse! They paid the price. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Sam . . .”

  “Shut up! Your big mistake was siccing those thugs on me in Colorado. You were the only person who knew I was leaving town. You had me followed. And when that picture of Becky and Agent Trout made the papers, you came nosing around like a hound dog—trying to find out what I knew. I don’t know why I didn’t put it all together earlier.”

  “That’s not evidence! That’s pure speculation!” exclaimed Chandra.

  “I told you, I don’t need evidence. I just need the truth, and I have that. Where are you running to? You knew the jig was up when all of your key people were killed. That’s convenient. No one to testify against you; but also no one will miss you when you disappear. We’re going to take a little trip to the desert, Chandra. Your body will never be found in the place I have in mind.”

  Chandra was frightened now. She knew all about Sam’s violent streak. She’d been reporting on him for years.

  “Sam! You can’t do this! You’ll never get away with it!”

  “Sure I will. I was a homicide cop, remember? I know all the tricks. And with you leaving on vacation, no one will be looking for you for quite awhile. We’ll take your suitcases with us. I’ll make those disappear, too.”

  “Sam! Don’t! I have a lot of money! I’ll pay you a fortune! Ten million dollars!”

  “Is that all your life is worth? Yo
u must have more than that stashed away with all your treason.”

  “I’ll give you fifty million!”

  “Why did you do it, Chandra?”

  “Why do you think?” she snapped. “They kept their foot on me! I was never going to go anywhere! All because one of their slave owners couldn’t keep his hands off the slaves! I vowed I would get reparation, and I got it! Now I can go to a place where black is beautiful and live like a queen!”

  “No you can’t. You’re bones will bleach white in the desert.”

  “Sam! A hundred million!” she begged.

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “Yes, yes! Yes it is!”

  “And that’s why you tried to kill me? And kidnapped Becky and Agent Trout?”

  “Yes. You were getting too close. You were ruining everything.”

  Sam was silent for a beat, then said, “How do I get that much money?”

  “I’ll give you the transfer codes. You can transfer the money to an account of your choice,” she pleaded, now thinking she had a chance.

  Sam was sickened. He really wanted to punish this woman in the worst way. The image of what she had done to Becky and Bo was still sharp in his mind. But he needed to find the money, her ill-gotten gains. He had to lie—let her believe she could buy him off.

  “Write them down, all of them,” he said at last.

  She grabbed a pad of paper from the kitchen counter and began writing furiously, sweat running down her spine.

  “Good memory. You remember all of them?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

  “Yes. I didn’t want them written down anywhere. There you are.”

  Sam picked up the paper and said, “Just to make sure this isn’t just random crap, say each one to me and I’ll check it against what you wrote.”

  She did so and the numbers matched.

  “This could still be crap. Make a transfer for me.”

  He retrieved his wallet and took out a white card with some numbers on it.

  “Transfer one of those accounts to this one,” he ordered. Chandra got on her cell phone and ten minutes later she said, “There! Six million in your account, Sam! Can I go now?”

  “I think you’re holding some back, Chandra. You did that too quickly. I think we’ll take that drive now.”

  “No, Sam! You can’t leave me with nothing!” she moaned.

  “Your choice. I’d rather take the ride. Cough it up or . . .”

  “OK, OK. Here’s the last account,” she said as she wrote it down.

  The door bell chimed. Chandra froze as she stared at the door.

  “Answer the door, Chandra,” Sam said.

  Chandra glanced at the gun on the coffee table, but Sam made no move to pick it up and hide it. She got up and opened the door and saw Special Agents Trout and Fenster of the FBI.

  Bo said, “It all came through loud and clear, Sam.”

  Chandra snapped a look at Sam. “You bastard! You’re wired?”

  Sam picked up the quarter-sized bug from among the coins on the table.

  “No, but your table is.”

  Carl stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs.

  “You have the right to remain silent . . .”

  Chapter 55

  Sunday, July 15, 2001

  Capistrano Beach, CA

  Bo and Sam were sipping drinks—she her usual white wine, Sam a Cutty and water—on the deck of the beach house, watching the sun ease down on Catalina.

  Sam said, “I guess your boss finally got what he wanted. Chandra sang like a canary in an attempt to escape the death penalty. She gave up her Hong Kong connection.”

  “Yes. The CIA will follow up—try to find out how much damage was done. Maybe take some people out—to show our government’s displeasure. At least, we’re out of it.”

  “I guess this is the last day of your vacation. What’s up for you next?” asked Sam wistfully, missing her already. He wanted to offer her a deal she couldn’t refuse, but didn’t know how. Bo solved his problem.

  She looked at Sam and said, “I’ve made a decision, Sam.”

  “Oh?” he murmured, eyebrow arched.

  “Yes. Don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m leaving the FBI.”

  “Hmm,” he said as he watched her light a cigarette. “That’s it? That’s a biggie.”

  “You’re not going to tell me it’s a mistake?” she asked as she exhaled smoke towards the sea.

  “You said I couldn’t argue with you,” he smiled.

  “You’ve never let that stop you before!”

  After a beat, “Why? What will you do?”

  “I’m going to move here. Be close to you and Becky. If you don’t like it, tough!” she exclaimed. “I can’t stand being so far away!”

  “Well, I . . .”

  She interrupted him, ran her words together without punctuation. “I’ve made up my mind and you’re wondering what I’ll do and I’ve thought about that and there are several options but the good thing is I’ll be here for Becky and you when you need me and I know you have all these girlfriends but I’ll fight for you because I love you and I love Becky and . . .”

  “Whoa, woman!” Sam exclaimed as he put his hand over her mouth to shut her up. “Take a breath!”

  He leaned over and kissed her.

  “You think I’m silly, don’t you?” she gasped after she caught her breath. “And pushy?”

  “Yes, to both. With your success on this case, you’ll probably get the SAC job in New Mexico that you’ve wanted. But you know that. Your decision makes what I’ve been wanting to say much easier. I never would have asked you to quit your job, but both Becky and I want you closer to us, that’s for sure.”

  “Continue. Tell me about ‘closer,’” she said. “Did you miss the part where I said ‘I love you’?”

  “No, I caught that. You must mean ‘infatuated’ or something. We’ve only known each other a short time.”

  “Sometimes that’s enough. Actually, I feel as if I’ve known you for a lifetime. I know you probably don’t feel the same, but I’ll work on you. For once in my life I know what I want and I am going to fight for it!” she exclaimed passionately.

  Sam smiled. “Wow! Now can I talk? You make it hard for me to complete a sentence!”

  Bo shrugged. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m an idiot.”

  “What I was going to say before I was so abruptly interrupted is that it would please me—and definitely thrill Becky—if we became a . . . sort of a family.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well . . . Becky has been bugging me to adopt her, and find her a mother, and I can’t adopt her without being married, and . . .”

  “Jeez, Sam! Is that your version of a proprosal? If it is, I accept! I’m not proud; I’ll take what I can get! Please tell me I’m right!”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  “You interrupted me again. Let’s go find Becky and see if she wants to get married,” said Sam.

  Epilogue

  Monday, July 16, 2001

  Washington D.C.

  On Monday, Bo flew to Washington D.C. and gave her resignation to her boss, giving four weeks notice. Since she still had two weeks of accrued vacation, that meant her last day on the job would be Friday the 27th of July. Because she had been on a task force, she had no caseload to turn over. She began shutting down her condo in preparation of moving to California.

  Also on Monday the 16th, Sam drove to L.A. and told Investigations International the bad news: He was leaving them to open his own office in Capistrano Beach. He told them to close the Mickey Malone office, since he was its main supporter. They were not unhappy about that. He told them that Pearl would be going with him, but she would close the office down and pack all appropriate files and equipment for shipment to L.A. Files on clients of only local interest, Sam would take to his new office and perform any follow-up required. The CEO of Investigations International asked Sam if it would be all right to contract h
is services from time to time for some of their superstar clients who usually asked for Sam to head up their security. Sam agreed. Everyone was happy. Sam bought his surveillance van and his high-tech equipment from them.

  Pearl leased an office complex in Capistrano Beach on the east side of PCH with a great view of the ocean. It was only a quarter mile from the Beach Road gate. Their suite had 3500 square feet which Pearl hired a carpenter to redo so there were four offices with an ocean view—including her reception area—a high-tech equipment and storage room, and a client waiting lounge. Sam’s office was next to Pearl’s seat of power, the next was Bo’s, and the corner office belonged to Rebecca’s Folly, Inc., Becky’s office.

  On July 30th, Crown Investigations was scheduled to be ready for occupancy, but not quite ready for business. That suited Pearl. She still had a lot of decorating to do—Sam had given her an exorbitant budget—and she had to handle all the decorating and furnishing. She used the somber, 1940s decorations from the Mickey Malone office in her reception area. She thought it set a private-eye tone to the place.

  She also called the property management company that handled the rentals on Sam’s beach house. No more renters after September 3rd. Sam was going to have it cleaned, then let Bo and Becky redecorate and refurnish it—making it their own.

  ***

  Bo arrived back in town on Saturday, July 28th, her FBI career a thing of the past—though she was legally an agent until August 10. Sam picked her up at the airport and took her to Sparky’s. It was 5:30 P.M. and all the regulars were there. Bo couldn’t believe how differently she viewed the place and its people from the first time she had been there. There were several bikers at the pool tables and Bo went back and hugged Boomer and each one of his buddies, thanking them for their role in saving her (and Becky) from the kidnappers. Some of them even blushed—they had never been hugged by an FBI agent before.

  Sam told Sparky that he and Bo were engaged and she showed Sparky the rock on her finger—Sam had given it to her at the airport. All the customers gathered around and offered congratulations and Sparky announced, “Drinks are on the house!”