Last Call (29 page)
“Never mind,” said Jack. “What is it that you needed to tell me?”
She put her sandwich aside.“Good news and bad news.”
“Okay. I’ll bite. Let’s go with the good news first.”
“I’ve uncovered some information that might help us find who raped Theo’s mother.”
Jack listened without interrupting as she laid out the events of the last sixteen hours.The Internet made a trip to see the Pi Alpha Delta historian in Ohio unnecessary. He’d e-mailed her the 1972
composite, and Andie’s tech agent compared the facial images from the movie to the mug shots in the composite.There was no match on the drunk and the heckler.
Jack said,“Probably guests at the strip party but not brothers at the house.”
“That was my guess,” said Andie. “But we did get a match on the cameraman. His name is Lance Gilford.”
“So, when are you going to talk to the esteemed Mr. Gilford?”
“That leads me to the bad news,” she said. “I won’t be talking to him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t help you anymore.”
“You can’t?” said Jack.“Or you won’t.”
“Can’t. It’s not my decision.”
“Somebody is telling you not to?”
She struggled to put on her business face, the one she always wore when spewing the bureau line. “You have to see this from the FBI’s LAST CALL
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point of view. I was appointed to head up a task force that is looking into the reasons why Isaac Reems was able to escape from jail. From there, I started looking at who killed Isaac. Then it became a question of who tried to kill Theo.The focus then was who killed Theo’s mother. Now I’m trying to find out who raped Theo’s mother over thirty years ago. I’m out of my jurisdiction here, not to mention way beyond the scope of my original assignment.”
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 fit-ting 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 quinceañeras.
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 screw-ing 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.
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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.”
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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.”
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“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 lawsuit.”
“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.”
“I know more than you think.”
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“Such as?”
“Your threat goes nowhere. The statute of limitations has run.”
Jack said,“There is no statute of limitations for rape in Florida.”
“Wrong.There’s no statute of limitations if the rape is reported within seventy-two hours. If it’s reported after that, the statute of limitations is four years.”
“Interesting that you know that fact,” said Jack.
“You could call it interesting. I’d call it helpful.”
He rolled his stool toward the computer screen.“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some editing to do before my next appointment.”
Jack watched him for another moment, but he decided not to push it. Not yet, anyway. “We’re going to find out who raped Theo’s mother,” said Jack, as he opened the door.“With or without you.”
He left and closed the door, leaving Gilford alone in his editing room.
Five minutes after Jack left to meet with Lance Gilford,Theo was on his way to Miami Beach.
South Beach was home to what Theo called the succ-
tiful crowd—not merely successful people who happened to be beautiful, but people who found success precisely
because
they were beautiful. They were everywhere. At any time of day or night, it was impossible to cruise Ocean Drive and Washington Avenue and not see a top model posing for a fashion shoot, a film crew shooting a commercial or
telenovela
, choreographers whipping dancers into sync for the making of a music video. They worked the lobbies of famous art deco hotels, on busy street corners, and at popular cafés. It could be in English, Spanish, or Portuguese.They came in all races, men or women, their ages ranging from young to younger. Sex selling everything from Gucci to the Gap, rap to reggae, bling to Cartier. Beautiful meant success, and success was beautiful. Succ-tiful.
“Theo, how you doin’, bro?”
Theo hadn’t seen Mel Booker in at least a year, right after a failed attempt at rehab. His mood was never predictable, and it was a relief to get the happy “How you doin’, bro,” coupled with a big hug.
“I’m good,” said Theo.“You all cleaned up, finally?”
“Going on eight months now. Nothin’ harder than O’Douls.
That’s why you ain’t seen me around Sparky’s.”
“That’s cool. I’m proud of you, man.”
Booker worked in a world where sex didn’t just sell the product.
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It
was
the product. He leased a film studio behind an old art deco apartment building on Washington Avenue. It faced the Dumpsters and the rear parking lot, but the windows were boarded over, so it didn’t matter. The lighting inside was entirely artificial, mostly from spotlights so bright that Theo left his sunglasses on. He and Booker were standing behind a seven-foot-high divider that cut across the studio. From the working side,Theo could hear the telltale moans and groans of the film stars—Booker’s hookers, as they were known in the industry.
“What you got going on?” said Theo.
“Two chicks, one dude. Typical male fantasy shit. Want to watch?”
“Ouch. Quit twisting my arm.”
Booker smiled.“Come on.”
Theo followed him around the divider to the working side of the studio.Two fixed cameras were in place, plus one guy walking around with a handheld in order to ensure a tight close-up of two beautiful young women getting way too excited over Zeus’s big moment. There was something very robotic about porn in progress, with the director barking instructions, the actors responding to his commands, the cameramen struggling for the ideal angle. It certainly wasn’t painful viewing, but on some level Theo thought it should be up there with laws and sausages on the list of things not to watch being made.
Booker lit a cigarette.“This is gonna be a great flick.”
“Gee, wonder how it ends,” said Theo.
They could talk freely, since all the sound would be dubbed in later. Booker said,“Makes me rich.That’s how they all end.At least until they ban porn on the Internet, which will never happen.”
“If it does, invest every penny in Bring-Back-Porn-dot-com.
It’ll be the hottest site in cyberspace.What do you pay these people anyway?”
Booker took a long drag, exhaling as he spoke. “Amber’s ex-LAST CALL
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