A Mighty Fortress (22 page)

I wondered what Dyer had meant by “related video.” To stress the point, Kara turned to me and shot me an urgent glare to make sure I’d heard it, too.
 

I nodded that I had.

Mattie was standing again. “Judge, we need to know how to proceed.”

Judge Sanders was out of patience. “The same way you proceed with any trial, Mr. Wilcox. Get ready to pick your jury Monday morning.” Then he took a deep breath. Something was clearly troubling him. “I’m very curious to see what’s on this video. We will reconvene tomorrow at 8:45 in my chambers.” He looked to his clerk. “I want a DVD player in my chambers then.” Back to the attorneys: “I’ll review the video in camera and we’ll have further arguments under seal.”

As the judge stood, he said court was in recess.

The bailiff yelled, “All rise,” and the judge disappeared.

I stood and turned around. Then I noticed another gray head in a suit. This one was packing up his bag in the gallery, ready to leave.
 

It was Fred Mitchell.

I made my way toward Mattie, but Dyer beat me to the punch. Dyer, who had a good forty pounds and three inches on Wilcox, looked like a former ball player. “You listen to me, Wilcox. I know exactly what you’re trying to do with this video.”

Mattie smirked. “And what would that be?”

“Blackmail. You think we’re going to pay you to keep this video from coming out.”

Mattie shrugged. “Funny, the judge leaves us hanging like that. Makes you wonder what
he’s
trying to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s giving your guy the chance to make this right and avoid what’s coming. And there’s still time to do it. My client has two hundred grand in fees so far. You make him whole for this farce you’ve put him through, we can all go our merry ways.”

“Listen, my client tells me he had a deal with Scalzo, and your guy needs to understand that and honor it.”

“We’re not going there again. Scalzo’s dead, and whatever deal McSwain had, it wasn’t with Pilka. Mr. Pilka is a man of principle. He just wants what he’s owed.”

Dyer shook his head. “Vinnie Pilka is a man of principle? I’ve heard it all now.” Dyer finally noticed me standing there. “Let me guess. This is the thug who paid my client a visit today?”

Mattie glanced at me and then back to Dyer. “I don’t know anything about that.” He was a good liar.

It was my turn to speak. “It was a professional courtesy,” I said.

“Extortion is what I call it.” He drilled his index finger into my chest. “And when this is done, I’m coming after you and Pilka.” He tried drilling deeper, but my chest didn’t budge. Something burning on my face must have scared him. He took a step back.

“You all need to clear the courtroom now,” the bailiff told us.

Dyer scurried out first, apparently hoping to catch an elevator that I wasn’t on.

Mattie turned to Kara. “I need to get back to the office. Can you pack up and meet me there?”

She nodded at Mattie, and then she cast her eyes on me. They seemed to be asking for help.

I nodded back.

“Keep your phone on,” Mattie told me. “Things are heating up.” He sounded excited, but rubbed his stomach nonetheless.

Mattie was gone, and it was just me, Kara, and the bailiff, who was seated again, nodding off.

“I think we’re interrupting his nap time,” I said.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kara asked under her breath as she zipped up a roller briefcase.

“Working. What’s going on here?”

She was packed now, ready to go. She glanced at the bailiff. “Not here. Walk me out.”

We walked through the hallways quietly, all business.
 

We didn’t get far when I realized I was wrong about Dyer. He hadn’t darted for the elevator. He was hidden in the corner, talking on his phone. When he saw me, he waved. We waited for him to finish.

He put his phone in his pocket and met us by a water fountain. “I saw that Wilcox already left. I swear that piece of shit gave me the finger on his way out.”

I huffed, “What do you want?”

“I just talked to my client. He’ll pay twenty grand to make this go away.”

“I’ll let Wilcox know,” I said.

But then Kara spoke up. “Why don’t you cut the shit, Dyer, and tell us what he’ll really pay? We don’t have time to negotiate, and the more time we spend preparing for this stupid trial, the more it’s going to cost to settle this.”

A surprised Dyer looked Kara up and down. “What have we here, a negotiating paralegal?”

Kara crossed her arms as her nostrils flared.

“You know, Kara, while we’re airing dirty laundry, there are rumors out there about you doing some moonlighting. You have quite a good reputation, from what I hear. Maybe if your boss wasn’t such a prick, he’d have friends who’d tell him what was really going on here.”

Kara raised a mean, solid fist. I caught her elbow just as she was about to let it launch. “There’s no reason for you to get your hands dirty,” I said. She put it down. “I can take care of this scumbag when the time is right.”

Dyer was looking at me now. “Is that a threat? You think you scare me?”

I shook my head. “I know I do. And anytime you want to put it to the test, just let me know.”

His lip trembled. “Forty grand. That’s all I got. Tell Pilka he’d be a fool not to take it.”

Kara shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you? My client has
two hundred grand
in this case, and it’s bullshit. It’s a slam dunk for us.”

Dyer’s nostrils could do their own flaring. “
You
don’t get it, do you? My client was supposed to get paid for this deal, and paid big. Now you’re expecting him to cough up money to make it all go away?”

Kara had said all she had to say. When he saw that, he shook his head and turned for the nearest elevator.

I looked to Kara. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, but the tears in her eyes told me she was anything but fine.

She wouldn’t talk until we got to her car in the parking garage across Twiggs. I loaded her case and box in her trunk and slammed the door shut.

“Now tell me about this new video,” I said.

“I haven’t seen it. Dyer called Mattie about it earlier today.”

“Maybe he’s trying to call his bluff.”

“I thought of that too, but he gave some good details.”

“What did he say?”

She looked around, seemed surprised by what she was about to say. “Apparently, someone emailed this clip from an anonymous email address. He clicked on it, and he swears it was a professional video of Scalzo going at it with a brunette in a room that sounded like it was the penthouse.”

“Where is the video now?”

She nodded. “Exactly. McSwain says he called in a tech guy to download it, and the clip was removed from whatever website it was posted on. It was gone.”

I thought this over for a minute. “You think it was Angie or Evie?”

“It sure fits her description.”

“So why would there be a video of her and Scalzo?”

She sighed. “I think that’s what the dinner with Brian was about. It all makes sense now. He had some kind of contacts in the porn industry. They were taking their game to the next level.”

“So how the hell did this lawsuit tie into it? What kind of deal did Scalzo have with McSwain? Was he supposed to pay him a cut of this?”

She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“You have any idea how to reach this Brian guy?”

She shook her head.

“And I take it you still haven’t heard from Evie?”

Another shake of the head.

“Based on what you heard Sunday, do you think Angie knew what was really going on? What if Scalzo made this video without her knowing about it? Is she the type who’d seek revenge?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know, Milo. I don’t know anything anymore.” She stepped closer and eased her way next to me, leaving me with no choice but to put my arms around her.

“I’m scared, Milo. I feel better when you’re around.” She looked up at me with sad eyes. “My daughter’s staying with my mom until this trial is over. I have to work late. I was wondering if you could come by later.”

“Kara, that can’t happen.”

“I don’t mean anything like that. Just come by the office tonight for a while. I don’t want to be there alone.”

“Why would you be alone? Isn’t Mattie working, too?”

“He’s taking the night off for some fundraiser.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Mattie.”

“For Dane Parker.”

“The guy running for attorney general?”

“I guess that’s what it takes to get Mattie’s money.” She squeezed me and then pulled away to get a better look in my eyes.
 

She had a good point, and I knew where I needed to go next.

“So what about tonight?” she asked.

“I can’t make any promises,” I said.
 

“What are you going to do?”

I sighed and looked out of the garage at a few office buildings towering in the skyline a few blocks away. “I think I’m going to pay Dane Parker a visit.”

They certainly were accommodating at the office of Hinkel and Knotts. Housed atop the esteemed Global Bank building downtown, the top floor of the office building resembled a steeple that peered into the heavens. The law firm occupied the steeple and the five floors below it, employing more lawyers than any other firm in Tampa. It offered a general commercial practice: corporate mergers and acquisitions, real estate, franchising, banking, alcohol regulation, and all the litigation the aforementioned industries might spawn or involve.

The firm’s main lobby was on the 38th floor, but I knew from his address and suite number that Parker’s office was on the 40
th
floor, along with those of most of the other litigators.
 

“Is Mr. Parker expecting you?” the receptionist asked me. She was frail but had a strong voice, and I figured I’d checked in with her right before her shift ended.
 

“He should be,” I said. “This pertains to the murder of Chad Scalzo.”

She stared at me blankly for a moment before she raised a finger. Then she turned and spoke into the phone. It was a private conversation. When it was over, she turned back around and told me to please have a seat. I did. The lobby was very comfortable. Medium-toned wood throughout. Not too stuffy, but just right. I had no idea what the wood was, but it made me think of oak.
 

I only waited about three minutes. The door to the lobby opened and Dane Parker stepped off. He rounded the corner, glanced at me, and then looked to the receptionist, as if to say,
Am I missing something?

She nodded and pointed her eyes at me, as if to say,
Nope, that’s him.

I stood. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Parker. I know you’re a busy man.”

He shook my hand. It seemed to take him a moment to place my face, but he seemed relieved once he did. “I’m sorry about the fire drill in court Monday morning. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly.” Then again, maybe he was relieved that I wasn’t with the police.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” I said as I took my hand back.
 

He looked around the lobby, uneasily. “Well, come with me. We have a few minutes before I have to leave.”

The ride in the elevator was awkward. Parker wore a nice, shiny business suit and held an attaché in his hand. “Did I catch you on your way out?” I asked.

“Actually, you did. I had just gotten in my car in the garage.” He sighed.

“I hear you have a big fundraiser tonight,” I mentioned.
 

“Yes,” he smiled, as if remembering he were a candidate for public office. “Are you interested in making a contribution?”

“That depends,” I said.

He smiled, waiting for me to elaborate.
 

So I did. “On how cooperative you are.”

“Oh, now, Mr. Porter, you wouldn’t be bribing me, would you?”

He let out a hearty chuckle and patted me on the shoulder. I must not have responded well, because his eyes turned apologetic.

The door opened and he cleared his throat. “This is us.”

The office was nice enough: done in the same shade of wood they’d used in the lobby. I wondered whether that was mandated by the firm.

“What kind of wood is this?” I asked, brushing his desktop.

“I have no idea,” he said, the annoyance ringing louder in his voice. He checked his watch. “Mr. Porter, you’re not here to talk wood, are you?”

I glanced at the photos on the bookshelves and walls behind him. He knew a lot of people. I didn’t recognize most of them from this distance, but I could tell they were important people by their poses. He wore a suit and a handsome, stately
 
pose in most of the pictures. But a few of them looked military. He had diplomas from Florida State and Emory.
 

“Gulf War?” I asked.

He nodded and said, “Shield and Storm.” His eyes looked bored.

He didn’t ask about my service, and I didn’t volunteer it. “When I was leaving from my meeting with the detectives Monday afternoon, I saw you talking to Fred Mitchell.”

Just then, he stood and set his attaché on the lowest shelf behind him. In doing so, he seemed to knock something over and cursed himself.

Then he turned and smiled. “I’m sorry. What were you saying about Fred Mitchell?”

“Just that I saw you two chatting in his office Monday when I was leaving.”

“And your point?”

“I don’t know, it just struck me as kind of odd to see you two talking it up like that when you’re both in the middle of a campaign and a murder investigation.”

He shrugged. “Nothing odd about it. I’ve known Fred a long time. And really our campaigns have nothing to do with each other. I’m running for Attorney General. That’s a statewide office. Fred hopes to become the next State Attorney for the county. About the only thing we have in common is we both have to win our party’s nominations.”

“Which you’re both expected to win in landslides.”