Brice leaned back and let her pronouncement sink in.

“Of course I’m interested,” Amanda said just as Brice’s chef appeared with her pancakes. Jennifer Gates was following a few steps behind, carrying Amanda’s latte.

The Pope case had made her father’s reputation. The trial of Sally Pope and the continuing saga of Charlie Marsh’s flight to Africa had dominated the airwaves for more than a year. Amanda was already famous in Oregon-and she was known in professional circles outside of the state-but she would become a household name in every state in the Union if she defended Satan’s Guru.

“What’s your relationship to Charlie Marsh?” Amanda asked as she poured hot maple syrup over the stack.

“It’s strictly professional.”

“Then what are you getting out of this?” Amanda asked before taking her first bite.

“Exclusive access. He’s agreed to speak only to World News and to permit us to embed one of our reporters in your defense team during the trial.”

Amanda lowered her fork. “Whoa, wait a minute. What would this reporter be doing?”

“His name is Dennis Levy. He’s a very competent young man. I think you’ll like him.”

“You haven’t answered my question, Mrs. Brice. What do you envision Levy doing during the trial?”

“I envision him being a fly on the wall. He’ll be present in court, of course, but he’ll also sit in on strategy meetings, your conferences with Mr. Marsh, interviews with witnesses. Then he’ll also do one-on-one interviews with you and your team. We’ll have an edge on every other newspaper, magazine, and TV news program.”

“We may have a problem. I can’t have your reporter setting out my strategy in your magazine for everyone in the DA’s office to read.”

“Of course not. Dennis won’t do anything to compromise Mr. Marsh’s case.”

“And he’s not going to be able to sit in on my meetings with Mr. Marsh. He’s not an attorney so he’s not covered by the attorney-client privilege. If a third party is present during a conversation I have with Mr. Marsh, the privilege disappears. Your reporter could be called as a prosecution witness and be forced to testify about everything Mr. Marsh said to me in confidence.”

“What about his First Amendment protections as a member of the press?”

“I’m not an expert in this area, but I’m pretty certain the courts have held that the First Amendment doesn’t protect a reporter in these circumstances.”

“I’ll have my legal staff look into the question. Again, I’m not going to do anything that could hurt Mr. Marsh’s chances at an acquittal.”

“Mr. Levy would have to follow my instructions. I’m going to want to review his articles before they’re published to make sure nothing he writes will tip our hand or reveal a confidence.”

“I think we can work that out. So, are you on board?”

“I’m definitely interested, but I may have a conflict. You know that my father-Frank Jaffe-represented Sally Pope, Mr. Marsh’s codefendant?”

Brice nodded.

“As I said, I was in college when the trial was held, but we’re partners now and I have to make certain that no conflict exists.”

“Mrs. Pope was acquitted, wasn’t she?”

“The case was dismissed with prejudice, in the middle of the trial. The legal effect is the same.”

“So where’s the problem?”

“There may not be one, but I have to make certain. If there is none, I’ll definitely take the case. That is, if Mr. Marsh wants me as his lawyer. You understand that you won’t be my client, he will. If he wants me, I’m in.”

“Good.”

“Where is Mr. Marsh now?”

“En route to New York. He’ll stay in an apartment World News owns.”

“You’re not going to announce his return, are you? I don’t want the district attorney to know where he is. He’d have him arrested.”

“I have no intention of letting anyone know that Mr. Marsh is back in the States until you tell me it’s okay.”

“Good. The first thing I’ll do, as soon as I’m certain I can take the case, is to arrange Mr. Marsh’s voluntary surrender. This will give me time to set up a bail hearing. I don’t want him in jail while we’re preparing for trial if I can prevent it.”

Brice reached into her hobo bag and pulled out an envelope. She handed it to Amanda.

“This is your retainer and a list of phone numbers that will reach me. Let me know as soon as possible about the conflict problem.”

“I’ll want to speak to Mr. Marsh immediately, once I’m on board.”

“I’ll send the jet for you and you can meet in New York, if you’d like.”

Amanda ran her hand over the leather-upholstered seat. “I might just take you up on that if you throw in another free breakfast. These pancakes are delicious.”

CHAPTER 9

Amanda could barely contain her excitement as she drove to her office. She’d been involved in some big cases that had gained national attention, like Cardoni-the serial killer case-and the Dupre matter, which had involved the murder of a United States senator. But the attention State v. Charles Marsh would garner would be on a whole different plane. Her life would be turned upside down, but it would be worth it for the chance to be part of history.

Then there was the personal reason for taking the case. What a coup it would be if she cleared Marsh’s name the same way her father had cleared Sally Pope’s.

Amanda parked in her lot and walked through the waves of rolling heat to the Stockman Building, a fourteen-story office building in the heart of downtown Portland. Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi leased the entire eighth floor. As soon as Amanda checked for messages at the front desk, she went to her father’s office.

Frank Jaffe was a big man in his late fifties, with a ruddy complexion and curly hair that was starting to show more gray than black. His nose had been broken twice in his youth during brawls, and he looked more like a criminal than a doctor of jurisprudence. Frank’s spacious corner office was decorated with antiques and dominated by a huge desk he’d bought at an auction soon after opening his practice. Over the years, the desk top had been scarred by cigarette burns, paper-clip scratches, and coffee stains that were hard to spot, because almost every inch was covered by law books, stacks of paper, or files.

Amanda announced herself by tapping on Frank’s doorjamb. He looked up from the draft of the legal memo on which he was working.

“What’s the reason for the smile that’s plastered across your puss?” Frank asked.

Amanda plopped herself down on one of the two client chairs that stood on the other side of Frank’s desk.

“Why do you think I was given this?” Amanda asked, tossing the retainer check toward Frank. He stared at the check for a moment. Then he whistled. Amanda’s smile widened.

“Did you win the lottery?” he asked.

“Sort of. I’ve just been hired to defend the case of the century.”

“Enough already,” Frank said, unable to contain a grin. “Out with it. What case is big enough to warrant this type of retainer?”

“Charlie Marsh is returning home to stand trial for the murder of Arnold Pope Jr.”

Frank stopped smiling. “You’re kidding!”

“I’m dead serious. He’s on his way back to the States from Africa as we speak. World News magazine is going to put him up in New York until I can arrange for his surrender.”

“How is he paying you?”

Amanda told her father about the book deal and Martha Brice’s expectations regarding World News’ exclusive coverage of the case. When his daughter finished, Frank frowned.

“I don’t like this business with the reporter.”

“Me either, but I can control him, and Brice agreed to my restrictions.”

“Or said she did. From what you’ve told me, she’s the type who will promise the world and not mean a word of it. She’ll count on you not being able to give up a half million dollars once it’s in your account. When she has you involved she’ll push the envelope.”