A Lockdown Production
Sassy, audacious and independent, Portia DeLysle's impulse to help in any situation stirs up a troubling mix of guns, gangsters, gals, booze and money.
Enjoy some jazz from the era as well
"I don't discuss company business outside the office unless it is with clients."
"So stuffy, brother. No wonder father pushes you around as you say he does." Portia fixed her beaded hair decoration, stroking the feather plume as she watched him in the mirror.
"Why do you think your client is upsetting him?"
Rodney clicked his sterling Dunhill lighter shut and expelled a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth. "I just said I don't discuss-"
"Oh, Rodney I'm not some competitor here, I'm part of the family."
"But not the firm, dear."
Portia paused and thought back to David's comments. She fussed some more with her appearance, touching up her Cupid's bow lip line while thinking of how to broach the subject then turned around and just asked point-blank.
"Is the client someone from Trevor Art?"
"Where did that come from? Why would you ask that?"
"When we talked about my having lunch with David . . . is it true?"
"Portia, I can't answer questions like that from you! These are private client dealings."
"So it is true?"
"No - yes- no . . . something father said about securing funds in a safe haven."
"Would that really concern him?"
"You know him, old by the book even if the pages are blank."
"Rodney, David has already told me that Trevor Auction is involved in dealings that he is opposed to, and this sounds very much like the same sort of thing with Trevor Art."
Rodney flapped his hands and stared, tongue-tied.
"I'm not prying for company secrets, brother, but the dealings David mentioned are with gangsters and dirty money."
"You can't say anything to your David or anyone else, Portia! And he shouldn't be talking to you about his business either. This could be a serious situation father has stepped into . . ."
"But if it's the same–"
"Father's client is not at either of the Trevor businesses."
"The client could be connected."
"Portia!"
"You could go to the police!"
"Enough! You just forget about this and leave it to us to figure out."
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The office was dimly lit and Crawford sat uncomfortably across from his client, listening to the man's plans for securing funds from a family estate. The whole thing sounded shaky and Crawford raised his hand, stopping his client's speech.
