Robert Heinlein - To Sail Beyond The Sunset

I sighed. ‘It beats me, Donald. I'll get you a blanket to pull over you.'

‘Mama, why can't I sleep in my own bed?'

‘Because you're not supposed to be here at all. The only reason you're being indulged even this much is because I don't think it is safe to let you go back on the road without something to eat and a few hours sleep.'

I went back to bed, could not sleep. After about an hour I got up and did something I should have done earlier: I searched the maid's room.

I found the stash. It was between the mattress and the mattress cover, at the foot of the bed. I was tempted to taste the least trace of it, having some notion from biochemistry of what cocaine should taste like - but I had sense enough - or was chicken enough - not to risk it; there are street drugs that are dangerous in the tiniest amounts. I took it back up with me, locked it, the ‘grass' and the cigarette papers, and the mirror and blade, into a lock box I keep in my bedroom.

They won. I lost. They were too much for me.

I brought Priscilla home, cured but sullen as ever. Two Public Health officers, a man and a woman, called on us (Jim's doing, with my co-operation) almost as we were taking off our coats. They wanted to know, gently and politely, Priscilla's contacts - who could have given the bugs to her and to whom she could have passed them on.

‘What infections? I'm not ill, I never was ill. I've been held against my will in a conspiracy! Kidnapped and held prisoner! I'm going to sue somebody!'

‘But, Miss Smith, we have copies of your lab tests and your medical history. Here, look at them.'

Priscilla brushed them aside. ‘Lies! I'm not going to say another word without my lawyer.'

At which point I made yet another mistake. ‘But, Priscilla, I am a lawyer; you know that. What they're asking is quite reasonable, a matter of public health.'

I have never been looked at with such contempt. ‘You're not my lawyer. You're ore of the ones I'm going to sue. And these two characters, too, if they don't quit heckling me.' She turned her back and went upstairs.

I apologised to the two Public Health officers. I'm sorry, Mr Wren and Mrs Lantry, but I can't do anything with her, as you can see. I'm afraid you'll have to get her on the witness stand and under oath to get anything out of her.'

Mr Wren shook his head. ‘It would not work. In the first place, we have no way to put her on the stand; she has not broken any laws that we know of. And we don't know of anyone who has. In the second place, a youngster with her attitude simply takes the Fifth Amendment and shuts up.'

‘I'm not sure she knows what the Fifth Amendment is.'

‘You can bet she does, Mrs Johnson. Today all these kids are street smart and every ore of them is a chimney-corner lawyer, even in a rich neighbourhood like this ore. Put ore on the stand and he'll holler for a lawyer and the ACLU will supply one pronto. The ACLU figures it is more important to protect a teenager's right to clam up than it is to protect some other teenager from infection and sterility.'

‘That's ridiculous.'

‘Those are the conditions we work under, Mrs Johnson. If we don't get voluntary co-operation, we have no way to force it.'

‘Well... I can do one thing. I can go talk to her principal, tell him that be has VD running around loose in his school:

‘It won't do any good, Mrs Johnson. You will find that he is extremely leary of being sued.'

I thought about it... and had to admit (the lawyer in me) that I had nothing to tell the principal if Priscilla refused to co-operate. Ask him to run ‘short arm inspection' (Brian's Army slang for it) on all his older boys? He would have hundreds of parents on his neck before dark.

‘What about drugs?'

‘What about drugs, Mrs Johnson?'

‘Does Public Health deal with drugs?'

‘Some. Not much. Drugs are usually a police matter.'

I told them what I had found. ‘What should I do?'

‘Does your daughter admit that these items are hers?'

‘I haven't had a chance to talk to her about them yet.'

‘If she won't admit it, you may have great trouble proving that the key items - the cannabis and the powder that may be cocaine - are hers, rather than yours. I know you are a lawyer... but perhaps you need to see a lawyer who specialises in such matters. There is an old saw about that, is there not?'

(‘A man who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client.')

‘Indeed there is all right, I'll take advice first'

Donald showed up right after that. He had not been on the couch on Saturday morning; I had assumed that he had gone back to Grinnell. It was now evident from the speed with which he showed up once I fetched Priscilla home from the hospital that he had stayed in Kansas City and placed himself somewhere near to watch for her return. Evident, but not true. He had learned somehow what hospital she was in - I could think of three simple ways - then arranged for someone to let him know when she was dismissed - again, three simple ways, including bribery if he could afford it. Never mind; he showed up.

The door chimed.

I buzzed the door phone. ‘Announce yourself, please.'

‘It's Donald, Mama.'

‘What are you doing here?'

‘I've come to see Priss.'

‘You can't see her.'

‘I'll see her if I have to bust this door downt'

I reached up and set off the Argus Patrol's ‘Mayday!' ‘Donald, I will not let you enter this house.'

‘Try and stop me!' He started kicking the door.

Priscilla came running downstairs, started to open the front door. I grabbed at her; there was a scuffle, we both went down.

I'm no fighter. Fortunately Priscilla was not trained, either. Brian had taught me just one thing: ‘If you have to do it, do it fast. Don't wait'

As she was getting up, I punched her in the stomach - no, the solar plexus. She went down and lay there, trying to gasp air.

I heard from outside, ‘Mrs Johnson! Argus is here:

‘Nab him and take him away! I'll call you.'

‘Nab who?'

‘Uh -‘ Priscilla was trying to get up again. I punched her in the same spot; she went down the same way. ‘Can you wait around for twenty minutes or a half-hour? He might come back.'

‘Certainly. We'll stay as long as you need us. I'll call in.'

‘Thank you, Rick. It is Rick, is it not?'

‘Rick it is, Ma'am.'

I turned round, grabbed my daughter by the hair, lifted her head, and snarled at her. ‘Crawl upstairs, go to your room, and stay there! If I hear another peep out of you, I'll punch you again.'

She did exactly as I told her to, crawled away, sobbing, and crept upstairs, slowly. I made sure all doors and windows on the ground floor were locked, then I called Dallas.

I explained to Brian in bitter detail what had happened since I had last called him to report on our children, what I had tried to do, what had actually happened. ‘Brian, I can't cope with them. You must come and get them.'

‘I want no part of either one of them. I was relieved when they ran away. Good riddance,'

‘Brian, they are your children and you have custody.'

‘Which I happily turn over to you.'

‘You can't; it takes a court to do that. Brian, since I can't handle them, if you won't come for them - or send someone for them - all I can do is have them arrested -‘

‘On what charges? Sassing you?'

‘No. Delinquency. Incest. Use of drugs. Possession of drugs. Running away from custodial parent, Brian Smith of Dallas, Texas.' I watched his face as I read off what I would tell the juvenile court. He did not flinch when I said ‘Incest' so I concluded that it was no news to him. He did not flinch until I named his name and city.

‘What! The newspapers would have a field day!'

‘Yes, in Dallas I imagine both the News and the Times Herald would feature it. I don't know whether the Kansas City Star would touch it or not. Incest is a bit whiff for their editorial policies. Particularly incest involving a sister with two of her brothers, August and Donald.'