Perfect Partners?

Still, she couldn’t silence the nagging feeling that this partnership—which seemed so perfect in so many ways—might turn out to be her biggest mistake.

MORNING CAME TOO EARLY. It always did for Lindsay. There were few sounds she hated more than the buzzing of her alarm clock, though Nathan Fisher’s voice might become one of them.

She lifted her head from the pillow, then sank back as a familiar pain made her wince. She’d mixed herself another drink last night before going to bed. The extra alcohol had helped her sleep, but now she was paying the price.

She groped for the pain relievers she kept at the side of her bed, swallowed two, then hit the snooze button. Thirty minutes later, she was running late, but at least her head was back to a normal size.

As she dressed, she mentally reviewed her plans for the day. First up was the meeting with Audrey Burchard, but she needed to reschedule some appointments first.

The air was smoggy and humid, and Lindsay inhaled the familiar scent with resignation as she hurried out her front door. Bad air was the price you paid to live in this city, but frankly, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She passed at least twenty people during the short walk to her office and not one of them tried to make eye contact with her.

How great was that?

Nadine handed her a cup of fresh coffee as soon as she stepped into the office. Lindsay accepted thankfully, knocking back several sips despite the hot temperature. Nathan was in the reception room, too, waiting in the sitting area reserved for clients, reading the New York Daily News.

“Ready to go?” he asked her.

Lindsay remembered his annoying ability to always, always, always be on time. “I’m well aware of our meeting with Audrey Burchard, thanks, Nathan. Just give me a minute.”

She passed a list of names and numbers to Nadine. “Would you reschedule these appointments for me, please?”

“You bet.”

Lindsay’s gaze snagged on the African violet. “When I get back, we need to talk.”

“Oh.” Nadine looked sheepish and slightly worried. Perhaps she’d hoped Lindsay wouldn’t even notice the plant. Not that it was a big deal. Still, she had a feeling that if she didn’t put a stop to it now, Nadine would fill the place with big, green, growing things that needed daily care and attention.

SITTING IN THE BACKSEAT of the cab with Nathan, Lindsay was reminded of the hours they’d spent together in their patrol car. It didn’t feel as if two years had gone by since they’d last worked together. It felt like yesterday.

“Tell me about the shooting,” she said. She was having trouble dealing with her anger on this. There were lots of cops she’d worked with who cut corners. Most, in fact.

But she’d been Nathan’s partner for a year and she’d never seen him take the easy way once.

“I’d rather not.”

So it was still a sore point with him. She glanced out the window as the taxi rounded the corner, then headed toward the Museum of Natural History. When the light changed, the driver sped past the museum into Central Park. They would cut through the park and emerge on the East Side in plenty of time for their ten-o’clock meeting.

“Does Celia still live with her parents?”

“You mean, her mother—her dad moved out after the shooting. Yeah, she does, but if you’re worried about her interfering with our interview, don’t. I already suggested it was a good idea if she wasn’t home when we arrive.”

She gave a short nod of approval, then gave him a closer look. “So what’s up with the two of you? Are you dating?”

Nathan looked annoyed. “We used to date. Not any longer.”

Lindsay was hit with emotions she didn’t like or understand. Mild jealousy that he and Celia had once been a couple. Relief that they no longer were.

Good Lord, what was the matter with her?

“You’re not worried about your ability to be objective?”

“Hell, Lindsay, why the inquest? If I didn’t think I could be impartial, I wouldn’t have accepted the case.”

“That’s good enough for me,” she said. After what he’d gone through the past few months, the last thing he needed was someone questioning his integrity. Quickly, she changed the subject. “I read the file on Mrs. Burchard last night. Thanks for pulling together all that information.”

“I’m glad it helped.”

“I knew Maurice Burchard was a big-time property developer, but it’s interesting that Audrey also has money of her own.”

“Probably more than her husband, since the economic downturn. Her father is a very successful art dealer. He owns several galleries that are operated by various family members, including Audrey and Celia. I believe they both have an ownership stake, as well.”

“So whatever the divorce might have meant to Audrey, it wouldn’t have threatened her financially.”

“Not at all. In fact, from a monetary perspective, the divorce would be far more challenging for Maurice. I checked the property tax records today and both the town house and the Catskills lodge are in Audrey’s name.”

“Is she dependent on him in other ways?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen. She’s an elegant and polite lady, but underneath the veneer, I would say she is extremely strong and determined.”

Good for Audrey Burchard. But not necessarily good for her case. “In situations like this I always wonder about possible abuse, either mental or physical. You had the advantage of knowing them on a personal level. Did their relationship appear healthy?”

“Who can really tell from the outside? Healthy enough. The few occasions I saw them they seemed happy.”

“It wasn’t a facade?”

“Why don’t you judge for yourself?”

The taxi was already gliding up to the Burchard residence on Park Avenue. Before Nathan could pull out his wallet, Lindsay covered the fare, then stepped carefully to the street, avoiding a pile of dried leaves in the gutter. Past the sidewalk, wide stone stairs led to an impressive set of chestnut doors.

Audrey met them there—a platinum-haired woman with a dynamite smile, dressed in an elegant suit of ivory silk, accented with bold silver jewelry.

“Nathan! It’s so nice to see you again. Please come in. And this is your partner?”

Nathan made the appropriate introductions, then fielded questions from Audrey about his sister and nephew.

He and Audrey obviously had a warm, intimate relationship and she wondered anew about Nathan and Celia’s history. If he said the relationship was over, she believed him. But how serious had it been in the first place?

Audrey Burchard led them through an ostentatious foyer to a library with a collection of nineteenth-century oil paintings and glass-fronted cases of leather-bound books.

Though this was one of the most expensive homes she’d ever been inside, Lindsay wasn’t impressed until she tasted the coffee which was served by a woman in her fifties, who entered and exited the room with the discretion of a soft summer breeze.

“This is seriously good coffee.”

“Thank you. It’s my husband’s favorite Ethiopian blend. It’s ridiculously expensive.”

But they hadn’t come here to discuss coffee. Lindsay sat back in the sofa, and tried not to be distracted by either the fabulous wealth around her, or her silly, nagging resentment of Nathan’s relationship with this woman’s daughter.

Perhaps it was because she’d become used to working on her own, but Nathan’s presence seemed to change everything for her. Focusing on work had never been a problem before. Now, the sound of his voice, his physical appearance, even the scent of his shampoo, were all intensely distracting.

It was damned annoying.

Lindsay trained her eyes on the woman they’d come to interview. In person Audrey Burchard exuded energy and power. Her demeanor was not just of confidence, but of one used to taking control of situations and managing outcomes. Her silver hair was very short, showcasing pretty ears and diamond studs as big as the nail on Lindsay’s pinkie. Her green eyes were clear and sharply focused.

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