Minor in Possession Read Free Page B

check. It’ll be bad enough if she comes in here and finds out Joey’s gone. If she also finds an unauthorized visitor…”
    Owens didn’t need a second urging. He was already pushing the chair back across the room.
    â€œI’ll go,” he whispered urgently, “but do me a favor. When that SOB comes in, don’t tell him I was here. I want to blindside that little cock-sucker.”
    â€œBelieve me,” I told him, “I wouldn’t want to spoil your surprise.”
    Guy Owens left then, quickly, disappearing around the far side of the cabin away from the path. I heard him strike off up the hill, crashing blindly toward the tennis courts. I hoped Santa Lucia, Ironwood Ranch’s tough-talking night nurse, was still far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to hear him.
    Fumbling with buttons and zipper, I stripped out of my clothes, shoved them in a wad under the bed, and slipped between my mangled covers. By the time the door opened and the overhead light was switched on, I was ready with an Emmy Award-winning performance of someone being’rudely awakened out of a sound sleep.
    â€œOkay, Mr. Beaumont. Where’s Mr. Rothman?”
    I’ve no idea how she got her nickname. That story had become lost in Ironwood Ranch’s group memory. Her real name was Lucy Washington, and as near as I could tell, this huge, implacable black woman wasn’t particularly saintly. She was also totally devoid of anything resembling a sense of humor.
    I blinked my eyes several times, holding both hands over my face to shield my eyes from the glare. “You mean he’s not here?” I asked innocently.
    â€œYou know damn good and well he’s not here. Look for yourself. Does that bed look like it’s been slept in? So where is he?”
    â€œBelieve me, Mrs. Washington, I have no idea. If I did, you can bet I’d be the first to tell you.”
    â€œMr. Beaumont, I’ve been hearing all kinds of wild rumors about your roomie Mr. Rothman tonight, tales about him being out and around and doing things he shouldn’t be doing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”
    â€œNot a thing,” I said.
    Lucy Washington stared at me impassively. She didn’t believe me, not for a moment, but at least she didn’t call me a liar to my face.
    â€œI see,” she said finally, giving up. “I tell you what. When he shows up, you let him know he’d better drag his white ass down to the office and see me. On the double. Understand?”
    â€œGot it,” I said.
    She switched off the light, turned, and stepped outside, banging the door shut behind her. I waited long enough for her to be well away from the cabin before I got up and looked out the window. I could see the wobbling beam of the flashlight as she trudged back up the hill toward the main ranch house.
    â€œDamn,” I said, under my breath.
    I knew my not blowing the whistle on Joey’s truancies would be yet another black mark that would go against J. P. Beaumont in the annals of Ironwood Ranch, and that my transgression, however minor, would be duly reported to Louise Crenshaw, the final arbiter of client affairs.
    Louise Crenshaw had made it clear during my admission interview that since I hadn’t come in as a destitute, homeless bum, I hadn’t yet hit bottom in her book. As a consequence, I was nowhere near ready to get better. She missed no opportunity to throw juicy tidbits about my alleged misdeeds to the group, items she regarded as ongoing proof of my lack of serious intent as far as recovery was concerned. This incident would provide more grist for her mill, and it gave me one more bone to pick with Joey Rothman, once I managed to lay hands on him.
    I stood there in my skivvies and tried to calculate my cabin’s Grand-Central-Station potential for the remainder of the night. I figured chances were pretty close to one hundred percent that