Guthrie lumbered into the reception area. He was in his early fifties, a bright-eyed Irishman with salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, and the beginning of a beer gut.
'Morning, Amanda.'
'Good morning, Matt. Is this a social call?'
'Afraid not. I'm not allowing contact visits with Dupre. I wanted to tell you in person because I know you're gonna scream and holler.'
'You got that right. I don't want to talk to my client through a sheet of bulletproof glass like he's some sort of animal.'
'Well there's your problem,' Guthrie answered calmly. 'Dupre is an animal. The last time we let him have a contact visit with one of your brethren he stabbed him in the eye and cut his throat. I'm not giving him the opportunity to do it again. And before you say it, it's not because you're of the female persuasion. I didn't know who was gonna get stuck with this dreamboat when I made the prohibition.'
'Look, Matt, I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I need to meet face-to-face with Dupre if I'm going to establish trust between us. The first meeting is very important. If he thinks I'm afraid of him he won't open up to me.'
'I'm not changing my mind on this. One dead attorney on my watch is enough.'
'You can manacle him. And Kate's with me. She's an ex-cop and she's very good at self-defense.'
Guthrie shook his head. 'Sorry, Amanda, but I'm sticking to my guns. It's a noncontact visit or nothing.'
'I can get a court order.'
'You'll have to.'
Amanda saw that it was useless to argue and she knew that Guthrie meant well.
'I'll take what I can get, for now, but I'm going right to Judge Robard as soon as I'm through.'
Guthrie nodded. 'I expected you would. No hard feelings I hope?'
'This just reinforces my opinion that you're a narrow-minded redneck,' Amanda said with a smile.
'And proud of it,' Guthrie laughed. Then he sobered. 'You watch yourself with this son of a bitch. Don't let him con you and don't you let your guard down for an instant. Jon Dupre is very, very dangerous.'
'Don't worry, Matt. He's one client I am definitely not going to underestimate.'
'Okay, then.' He stuck out a massive paw, which Amanda shook. 'Say hi to your dad for me.'
Guthrie left and Amanda showed the contents of her briefcase to the guard, then went through the metal detector. As she waited for Kate to follow, Amanda had to admit that she was relieved that there would be a concrete wall and bulletproof glass between her and Jon Dupre.
The noncontact visiting room was so narrow that Kate Ross had to stand behind Amanda with her back pressed against the door. Amanda sat in a gray metal bridge chair and rested her notepad and file on a ledge that projected out from a wall that was directly in front of her. The bottom of the wall was concrete and the top was bulletproof glass. It was impossible to hear through the glass, so attorney and client communicated through phones attached to the wall on both sides.
A door opened on the other side of the glass, and a guard pushed Jon Dupre into an identical space. Amanda's first impression of her new client was that he was handsome and hyperalert. Dupre's ankles were shackled, which forced him to shuffle forward unsteadily. The prisoner riveted his eyes to Amanda's, and they stayed on her. It was unnerving, but Amanda sensed fear as well as aggression. When he drew closer, she saw that Dupre's eyes were red and swollen, and there were bruises on his face.
The guard pressed Dupre down onto his chair and left. The jumpsuit her client was wearing was short- sleeved. He placed his manacled hands on the metal ledge, revealing a row of stitches on his right forearm and cuts on the sides of his fingers on both hands.
Amanda forced a smile as she picked up the receiver of her phone and gestured for Dupre to do the same.
'Who the fuck are you?' he asked.
'I'm Amanda Jaffe and I've been asked by the court to be your attorney.'
'Jesus, they sent me a cunt for a lawyer. Why don't they just give me my lethal injection now.'
Amanda stopped smiling. 'You've been appointed a cunt for a lawyer, Mr. Dupre, because all the swinging dicks were too scared to take your case.'
'And you're not?' Dupre said, tapping the receiver against the bulletproof glass.
'The jail commander wouldn't let us meet face-to-face. As soon as I'm through here, I'm going across the street to the courthouse to get an order forcing him to let us meet in a contact room.'
Dupre pointed the receiver at Kate. 'Is she your bodyguard?'
'No, Mr. Dupre. She's your investigator. Now, are you going to keep testing me or can we get down to work? I've got a number of questions I'd like to ask you. You're in a lot of trouble. You murdered a prominent attorney and you're looking at a very real possibility of a death sentence.'
Dupre sprang to his feet, leaning against the ledge to maintain his balance. Even though there was a wall between them, Amanda pushed her chair back, stunned by Dupre's sudden rage.
'I didn't murder anyone and I don't need a DA's flunky for an attorney. Get the fuck out.'
'Mr. Dupre,' Amanda shouted into the phone. Dupre smashed the receiver against the glass, struggled to the rear wall, and slammed his manacled hands against the steel door. The door opened and the guard stepped back to let Dupre into the hall that led to his cell. Amanda sagged onto her chair.
