J. Jance: Minor in possession

From reading the last month's entries, I could tell that knowing Michelle had a profound effect on him. Had he lived, maybe he would have grown away from her and the magic would have gone out of their relationship, but that didn't happen. There wasn't enough time. Joey Rothman died still believing that his newfound love would save him, and Michelle is left with the same kind of loss and mixed emotions that I feel about Anne Corley. What Anne and I had together, what Joey and Michelle had, was wonderful, but it was not enough. It will never be enough.

Being with Michelle did change Joey Rothman. The scales fell away from his eyes and he was finally able to see Marsha and JoJo Rothman for the scum they really were. And he was able to see his mother as well. What Rhonda had wished for all those years, the chance of getting him back, almost came true. But of course it didn't. There wasn't enough time for that, either.

The place in the diary that really choked me up was the next-to-last entry, the one he wrote after he had gone to Carefree to collect Ringo and the diaries. In that one, he worried about what would happen to Jennifer after he was gone. And in that, he wasn't alone.

I worried about her too. I knew it was her innocent revelations to me that had led to the collapse of the Rothman drug-dealing/money-laundering empire. Knowing she was languishing in a foster home someplace, hearing echoes of news reports on her parents' progress through the criminal justice system, sickened me.

The last entry was written the morning of the day Joey Rothman died. He told how he had filched a briefcase full of money from his parents' stash thinking it wouldn't be noticed, but he worried that it might be. He hoped that the threat of exposing the drug empire would be enough to ensure his safety. Taking precautions, though, he gave the snake, the money, and the diaries to Michelle for safekeeping, telling her to send the diaries to Rhonda if anything ever happened to him.

He was scheduled to graduate from the program on Friday of that week, and when he left Ironwood Ranch for good, he planned to take the snake, the diaries, and the money and disappear, expecting to send for Michelle later when he found a place to live. He had hoped to go back to school and study writing.

But something must have alerted Marsha. I have no idea what, and I don't know how she managed to lure her stepson to the flood-swollen banks of the Hassayampa River, but she did. She met him there with one of her henchmen-the same punk who followed Rhonda and me from La Posada-and the two of them murdered Joey Rothman in cold blood.

Ringo, that poor old ancient snake, now a permanent resident at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson, is a nice guy compared to Marsha Rothman.

When killing Joey failed to turn up either the diaries or the money, Marsha called for reinforcements, using Monty and some of her other Cocaine Alley drug connections from southern Arizona. She sent them after Michelle, and the outcome of that would have been entirely different if on a sunny October Sunday morning Rhonda Attwood hadn't insisted on going to Sierra Vista to talk to Guy Owens.

It's lucky for all concerned that Rhonda Attwood is an uncommonly stubborn woman.

Reading Better Off Dead is no picnic. I found myself close to tears at times as I read the last few entries and realized that Joey had not been able to live to see the fruition of some of the potential he was showing, both as a writer and as a human being.

No matter how the book is received by the public, though, Ralph Ames has managed to come up with a financial arrangement that will probably pay for Michelle Owens' education and maybe more besides.

Ralph also tells me that the Crenshaws have sold out their interest in Ironwood Ranch. I don't know where Louise and Calvin have gone, but the ranch itself has been purchased by a consortium that includes Burton Joe as the temporary executive director.

I've been in touch with Delcia. Criminal charges have been filed against the prosecutor in Maricopa County on the MIP plea-bargaining case. So far, though, Sheriff Heagerty seems to have escaped unscathed. He used his influence to keep Ironwood Ranch from getting any adverse publicity, but so far Delcia hasn't uncovered anything illegal. One can only hope, however, that the next time there's an election, the voters will speak and this cloud will come back to haunt him.

So the Crenshaws have gone to ground. They may be truly screwy people, but the program at Ironwood Ranch isn't all bad. Flawed people can still do good work. As I sit here tonight, drinking coffee instead of my former drink of choice, I know that woudln't be happening without my having gone there. I know too that if I'm going to stay sober, it's up to me and nobody else.

Ralph asked me if I wanted to invest in the consortium, but I told him I thought I'd pass. Ironwood Ranch is fine, but I don't want to have anything more to do with it. Ever.

So it would seem as though everything was coming up roses, but as I've walked around here in Seattle this past month, working again and trying to stitch my life back together one day at a time, there's been a lingering hurt, one continuing fly in my ointment, and that is Jennifer Rothman.

I've had some late-night arguments with God about her, demanding to know how come the innocent have to suffer right along with the guilty.

This morning I got my answer.

A package was delivered to me down at the department. Inside I found two things, one a matted painting-a handsome watercolor portrait of me painted from that rough sketch Rhonda did and signed by the artist herself. Ralph tells me it'll probably be valuable someday, so I'd better frame it and take care of it.

The other was a note:

Dear Beau,

Just thought I'd let you know that JoJo's attorney has been in touch asking if I would be willing to take care of Jennifer. If you've read Joey's book, and Ralph tells me you have, then you know my answer. I figure the more the merrier.

Come visit us soon.

R.