Finn flashed his lawyer’s pass at one of the guards through the window, and the guard pressed a button, opening the door and waving him through.
“Attorney Finn,” the guard said. His voice wasn’t quite friendly, but it wasn’t hostile either. Some of the corrections officers understood that Finn was just doing his job. Others…
“Officer DiNoffrio,” Finn replied.
He noted Finn’s casual attire. “You going to the Sox game today?”
“Yeah.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“Yeah. I’d offer you one of my other tickets, but…” Finn shrugged.
“Bullshit.”
“Yeah. It’s the thought that counts, though, right?”
DiNoffrio shook his head. “Not even close. Who are you here to see?”
“ Devon Malley.”
“Shit. You serious?”
“I guess.”
“You might as well give me your ticket. By the time he finishes trying to explain this, it’ll be the bottom of the ninth.”
“I charge by the hour.”
“Still…” DiNoffrio swiveled in his chair, facing back out toward the cell block. He grabbed the microphone that extended up from the control board at the center of the guard station, flicked the power switch on. “ Devon Malley. Visitor.” His amplified, mechanized voice echoed off the smooth cement surfaces of the cell block. It didn’t sound like him; it sounded like God. For those living on the block, it might as well have been. He looked back at Finn and nodded toward another steel door off to the side of the guard station. He pressed a button and the door unlocked. “He’ll be in in a minute.”