S&P: Your Papa's a Pig

* * * * *

Mike Gibson and Sue Adams, at their own requests, went to Cathy Silverman's house. The front door was open. The screen was latched. Mike drew his weapon, concerned about a burglary, and went in silently. Sue covered him from outside.

This was no burglary, however. Cathy Silverman came out of her room in short-sleeve and long-leg pajamas, carrying a wet washcloth. Mike watched her go into the kitchen. He moved so he could see her turn on the cold water, wet the cloth, and place it on her head. She also poured herself a glass and took some pills.

Mike decided Cathy's illness was legitimate enough, but why would she leave the front door open? He was about to leave and knock on the door again when the answer came out of Cathy's bedroom.

Frankie Harmon, his face still bandaged from Stephanie's fist, was wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts – it was a warm day, but he had evidently shed some other clothes a few seconds earlier. He looked very annoyed. He also looked very aroused. The latter was evidently the reason for the former:

"A hand job won't do it," he called out. Mike stayed hidden. Neither Frankie nor Cathy, who was gargling with salt water, noticed him. Cathy spat out the salt water and spoke in a scratchy voice.

"My throat hurts too much to suck you off and I ache all over. Suffer!"

"Just because you're sick doesn't mean you can't put out."

"Just because you broke up with Callie and went out with me a few times means I'mgoing to put out. You could just be a typical teenage horndog, you know that?"

"And you could just be a frigid bitch." And with that, Frankie turned on his heel and stalked back into Cathy's room.

Mike was fully prepared to leave, but he wondered about the call Cathy had made. He had a search warrant for the house, but he needed to serve it. He edged along the wall and took a look into the girl's bedroom.

Frankie was sitting in front of the computer terminal, performing that act for which no man need look his best. He was using the images on the screen to arouse himself. Mike took a look at the images – and retreated.

Mike signaled Sue to come in. Then Mike and Sue went into the kitchen, also signaling Cathy to remain silent. Mike showed Cathy the paper. Then all three of them walked very quietly into Cathy's room.

"Surprise, motherfucker."

The image Frankie was using for self-pleasure was an image of Cathy, considerably doctored. He had just loaded it onto the computer – in fact, he had the diskette on the table in front of him and was saving the image in an E-mail by typing with one hand. He released both hands and came up swinging.

Mike was not an Aikido master, but he knew martial arts. He blocked the blow, took Frankie to the carpet and had cuffs on him in much less time than it takes to write.

Mike told the teenaged boy: "You are under arrest for assault on a police officer. That charge probably won't stand up, because I didn't get to identify myself, but I'd still say you have royally screwed yourself. Book him, Officer Adams."

That took quite a while. Sue had to have a long talk with Cathy, who was more than eager to expound on that "gift" digital camera and the "arty" locker-room shots – "he said it was for his photography class." Cathy was running a high fever when she finished. They dropped her off at the hospital, where Mike stayed.

* * * * *

Several hours later, two very frightened-looking female suspects sat in an interrogation room waiting for their lawyer to arrive. Linda Shannon sat across the table. She said nothing.

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of the attorney, accompanied by Samantha Black. The attorney, Jack Clinton, was well known (and cordially disliked) by the Sheriff's Department for his skill at getting off some very unsavory clients. Samantha had evidently chased Clinton down the hallway. Finally he took a seat and Samantha caught up with him.

"Here is your retainer fee," Samantha said audibly.

Clinton looked at the check proffered to him. He smiled. Then he carefully folded up the check and handed it back to Samantha.

"That is a lot of your own money, Miss Black," he said, enunciating very carefully. "The Sheriff's Department tried to hire me to represent Carol Gibson for that kind of money. No disrespect intended, but I'm not going to impoverish them and I won't impoverish you." Four very puzzled female faces looked back at him.

"I would have taken Carol's case pro bono because so many people believed in her. And I'm taking these two ladies' cases pro bono because you believe in them. Besides, the District Attorney is a –" – flying asshole again. "I've won a lot of cases I should have lost. I just got off the phone to him and offered a deal.

"You," pointing to Elaine – "turn state's evidence against your stepfather and tell the whole truth about how you got involved with this scheme to ruin the Gibsons. In return, I hand you to the Witness Protection Program."

Then Clinton turned to Callie. "No deal can keep you out of prison for a very long time. But from what I've heard, you arevery seriously mentally ill. I can have you serve your sentence at a psychiatric facility, with rape counseling and drug counseling and anger-management counseling thrown in. In return, you have to spilleverythingabout your dad and maybe your mom to the Special Prosecutor. You're looking at him. I already prosecuted that child-killer Sergeant Gibson brought in a few months back."

Clinton leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes justice does mean acquittals. And sometimes it means finding the right people guilty and giving breaks to the others. As bad as you are, I feel you deserve a break. You won't get one with the regular D.A. Think about it."

The two suspects asked permission to confer. Linda nodded, and she and Samantha stepped out into the hallway. After a minute, Clinton stuck his head out the door.

"They're willing to cooperate in every detail. And they're willing to sign statements clearing Carol and Stephanie of everything except Stephanie's punch-out of Frankie Harmon. And I very seriously doubt Stephanie will haveanytrouble on that score."

Clinton smiled. "By the way, how is Sergeant Gibson? I haven't heard from her since we locked away the child killer."

Linda said, "I don't know. Will you wait while I check my cell phone messages?"

Linda put the phone to her ear, listened for a few seconds, shut the phone off and started running for the door. Clinton looked at Samantha and said, "Baby?"

Samantha hadn't known about the imminent birth. Her eyes widened. Then she took off down the hall, shouting: "Lieutenant! Please! Let me ride with you!"

* * * * *

It had not been easy for Michael Gibson Junior to come into the world. But there he was, with his dad, mom, Aunt Linda and his much older sisters – they were half sisters in both blood and age, but they were to act like full sisters anyway – all cradling him and cooing over him. Samantha waited out in a hallway. Once in a while, Linda looked out the door to see if Sue was en route. Finally, she arrived, clutching a book bag.

"I am SO sorry I got hung up," Sue announced. "You know this time of year. There's always a run on this book."

Then Sue passed out copies ofOh! The Places You'll Go! to everyone in the room, including little Mikie. She gave Linda a copy with her own inscription. When she was finished, two books remained in the bag. She left the room and returned triumphant.

In the hallway, Josh Crane and Samantha Black looked over their copies and inscribed them to one another. They were 98¾% guaranteed to marry, have a baby girl, and move to Washington, D.C., where Crane got a Pentagon job as a computer specialist and Samantha entered Gallaudet College's master's in education program.

It took a while for lovemaking to resume among the various couples, with Carol looking for a new boyfriend, Mike and Pat dealing with Mikie's demands, Crane and Samantha cementing their relationship and Linda and Sue having a few chats about what Sue had discussed with Carol. Eventually, they all made up for it. And then it was Stephanie's turn to have sleepless nights...