James Grippando - Last Call

Jack drank from his soda. "You buy that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you really believe that jurisdiction' and 'scope of original assignment' were the reasons that the powers that be pulled the plug on your investigation?"

"Do I hear another conspiracy theory coming on?"

Jack reached across the table and took a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. The hair was stuck together in telltale fashion.

"I'm not the one who was gnawing nervously on her hair while driving over here," he said.

She lowered her eyes. Busted .

Jack said, "I know you better than you think."

"Ditto."

"So, you must know what I'm thinking," he said.

"I might. Tell me anyway."

It could have gone in a couple of different directions from there. Jack thought for a moment, and then he let go of her hair, sticking to business.

"I think you were getting too close for someone's comfort," he said. "Someone who has a very big secret. And just maybe someone with very big friends."

"Big enough to get me pulled off an investigation?"

Jack settled back into the booth. "That's what I aim to find out."

Jack didn't bring Theo along for the up-close and personal visit with Lance Gilford. Not because Theo chose to stay behind. In fact, Jack had to enlist the help of both Uncle Cy and Trina to keep him at Sparky's. It was only natural that Theo would want to meet the chump who'd filmed the rape of his own mother. The bottom line, however, was that Jack had gotten Theo off death row once already.

He wasn't sure he could do it again.

Gilford still lived and worked in Miami, and it seemed only fitting that he owned a videography company. It was called Memories, and the hand-painted sign on the storefront window proclaimed "Complete customer satisfaction since 1983" in the recording of life events – weddings, bar mitzvahs, sweet-sixteen parties, and quinceaneras.

They left out sexual assaults.

Bells on the door rang as Jack entered the studio. The attractive young woman at the reception desk looked up from the latest issue of Ocean Drive magazine. Jack assumed that she wasn't just screwing off, that culling through the local see-and-be-seen publications was a way of identifying prominent families and scouting out new business. Gilford's schedule was booked for the day, but Jack had phoned ahead and persuaded the receptionist to squeeze him in for five minutes before the 2:00 p.m. appointment. Jack didn't say what it was really about, and he was counting on more than five minutes once he, Gilford, and Pi Alpha Delta's dirtiest secret were together in the same room.

Jack introduced himself, and the young woman frowned.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I know I promised to fit you in, but Mr. Gilford still has some important editing to do before his two o'clock. He can't see you today. But I have something next Tuesday or-"

"This can't wait," said Jack.

"I'm afraid it will have to."

Jack mustered up a smile. "Help me out here, okay? This is a surprise. I've got a blast from the past for him, all the way from his college days and Pi Alpha Delta fraternity All I need is one minute.

Slowly, she returned the smile, as if she liked being in on the surprise. "He's in the editing room," she said. She led Jack down the hall, knocked on the door, and opened it.

Before she could speak, Gilford said, "Celeste, I said no interruptions."

Gilford had long gray hair that he wore in a ponytail, and that was about all Jack could see of him. He was seated with his back to the door, and his eyes were glued to the LCD screen and the footage from a client's wedding.

Jack said, "That wouldn't be the Portia Knight wedding, would it?"

The tension in Gilford's neck and shoulders was suddenly visible. He didn't move for several seconds, and Jack wondered if he was even breathing. Finally, he turned in his swivel stool to see who had mentioned Portia's name.

Jack did a quick study. The man had gained a few pounds, the face was fuller and bore the lines of time, and the eyebrows were as gray as his ponytail. But there was no doubt in Jack's mind that he had the right Lance Gilford.

Gilford seemed to be trying to place Jack, but not surprisingly, his expression showed no sign of recognition.

"Who are you?" he said.

"Jack Swyteck. I'm a lawyer for Theo Knight. Portia's son."

Celeste shot Jack a look of surprise. "I thought you said you were-"

"Celeste," said Gilford. "Can you leave Mr. Swyteck and me alone, please?"

"Your two o'clock will be here any minute."

"Tell them to wait," said Gilford.

She seemed confused, but she complied. The door closed, leaving Jack alone with Gilford. He didn't offer Jack a chair.

"What do you know about Portia Knight?" said Gilford.

"I know you filmed her rape," said Jack.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Jack leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Do you really want to do this dance, or do you want to hear what I want?"

"I don't know a Portia Knight."

Jack walked toward him, pulled the still image from his coat pocket, and dropped it on the computer table beside Gilford. "This is from the movie that's posted on Reality Bitches dot com. That's you in the mirror filming Portia's rape. And don't tell me that it isn't you, because the FBI has already confirmed that it is."

He stared at the image for nearly a full minute. "Oh, you mean that Portia Knight," he said finally.

"Yeah, that one," said Jack. "Interesting thing about the film is that it's been carefully edited. Did you do that work here?"

Gilford leaned back and rested his elbows atop the table. "No, actually. I did it at home."

"So you admit it?"

"Sure. My wife got really sick, and we needed cash. Took a second mortgage on the house, and I even considered selling the business. We were desperate. I don't know what made me think of that old film, but I dragged it out, cleaned it up, and sold it to one of the big Internet porn distributors."

"But first you cut out any frames that would reveal the identity of the attackers."

"Hold on, pal. You need to rewind a second. First of all, there was no attack."

Jack scoffed. "What do you call it then?"

"Damn fine work by a young film student. I wrote the script, I hired Portia to be the lead actress, I got my drunken frat brothers to volunteer as extras, and I filmed the short with a handheld. Nothing is real. Except the sex. Probably could have done the piece with simulated intercourse, but for another hundred bucks, Portia was willing to take it hard-core. My 'extras' were more than willing to cover the added expense."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't really care. That's exactly the way it went down."

"The website says it's real."

"Yeah, and they put twenty-two-year-old women in pigtails and pass them off as teenagers. It's called marketing."

"You can see the terror in her eyes."

"I don't see anything in those eyes but drugs."

The guy was way too cool. Jack said, "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"I merely speak the truth."

"Well, let's see if you can handle this truth. The experts at the FBI have studied this film, and they say it was rape."

"Isn't it against the Florida bar's rules of ethics for private attorneys to threaten people with criminal prosecution?"

"Number one, I'm not threatening you. Number two, it's only unethical if I make the threat to gain an advantage in a civil law-suit.

"I'm not sure I agree with your interpretation."

"You a lawyer?"

"Went to law school for two years. Then I saw the light."

"That's like two-thirds of a course on how to disarm a bomb. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing."