Perfect Partners?

“This is Lindsay Fox. She’ll be working on your case, too. Come in.” Nathan moved from behind his desk to give the woman a hug.

Immediately Lindsay could tell these two had a history. It wasn’t just the hug. It was the way they looked at one another. She made a note to ask Nathan about it later. For now, she put on a professional smile of welcome.

Celia still hung back by the door. “I have to admit I’m a little nervous.”

“Understandable,” Nathan said. “You’ve been through a lot lately. Why don’t we move to the conference room. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Lindsay didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. He was acting as if he’d worked here for weeks, or months.

Did he even know where the conference room was?

She waited for him to hesitate or shoot her a questioning look, but instead he headed confidently to the hall on the other side of Nadine’s desk and opened the door to the left.

“Would you please bring in coffee, Nadine?” he asked, before ushering Celia inside.

Lindsay thought her receptionist might be put out at this request from someone who hadn’t even been added to the payroll, yet, but she seemed only too pleased to spring to her feet and oblige. A minute later, Nadine returned with a tray of coffees and water.

She glanced around the room, and noticing the sun streaming in from the window at an uncomfortable angle, she went to adjust the blind. When Lindsay went over to help, Nadine murmured, “I’m glad you changed your mind about Nathan.”

“I’m not sure I had a choice.” Lindsay gave the cord such a hard tug that the blinds crashed down to the sill. Nathan and Celia turned, startled.

“Sorry about that.” Nadine left the room, and Lindsay took a seat across from Nathan and Celia, who had selected chairs next to one another.

What a cute couple they made. But if they were indeed dating, she was going to kill Nathan for not coming clean about the relationship from the beginning.

Celia glanced around, taking in the ultramodern table and steel chairs, then focusing on the black-framed photographs hanging on the steel-colored walls.

She squinted at the artwork. “Are those close-ups of paper clips?”

“Yes,” Lindsay said, admiring them anew.

“Interesting. If you ever decide to go with a warmer look you should visit my mother’s art gallery. I’d be happy to make some suggestions.”

Ouch. Lindsay wasn’t sure what hurt more. Celia’s critique of her artistic taste, or Nathan’s amused smile. She supposed she should be glad Nadine, at least, had left the room and wasn’t here to add her own indictment.

“Should we start?” She glanced at Nathan, who nodded.

“Celia, why don’t you summarize the situation so we can bring Lindsay up to speed?”

“It’s all such a horrible mess, I hardly know where to begin.”

Lindsay tapped her pen impatiently on her notebook. “Why don’t you start with the day your mother shot your father in the butt, and we’ll go from there.”

Celia’s eyes widened at her blunt tone. “It’s not that easy, okay? You have no idea how awful it is to see my own parents on the cover of newspapers and trashy magazines. To have the world talking about my personal family business.”

“I do sympathize.” Far more than Celia could ever guess. “But unfortunately we have no control over the media, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I don’t expect you to stop them. I just want the truth. The police seem happy to take Dad’s story at face value. They hardly investigated at all. And Mom’s preliminary hearing was a joke. It’s so unfair. I don’t understand how Dad can let them put her through this.”

“He was shot, right? Presumably that was upsetting.”

“The bullet only grazed his rear end. He’s fine. He should have told the police it was an accident.”

“Was it?”

“It must have been.”

“But your dad says it wasn’t. And your mom?”

“She can’t remember.”

How convenient, Lindsay thought. She glanced at Nathan, who remained quiet. He seemed content for her to handle the questions for now. She turned back to Celia. “You’re sure she doesn’t remember?”

“Are you suggesting my mother is lying?” Affronted, Celia turned to Nathan, who covered her hand supportively.

Lindsay found this annoying. It wasn’t their job to counsel distraught clients. They were investigators, for God’s sake.

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Lindsay replied levelly. “Just asking if you’re sure.”

“My mother can’t remember. It isn’t an act—she never lies. She’s been released on bail with the condition that she receive counseling. I think the judge is hoping that her memory will eventually return. But…”

“Yes?” Nathan encouraged her.

“I don’t think it will. And that worries me because she’s so busy blaming herself for what happened, she isn’t even trying to protect herself.”

“You’re not worried she might shoot your father again now that she’s out on bail?” Lindsay asked.

“No! I’m telling you it was all an accident. She never intended to hurt him.”

“Why doesn’t your father believe that?”

“I don’t know.” Celia turned to Nathan. “Why is she being so mean?”

Lindsay glanced at Nathan, reacting to his quickly truncated smile with a roll of her eyes. If he wanted to coddle this woman, that was his business. She had little patience for emotionally needy clients.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Nathan suggested, gently easing his hand away from Celia’s. “The morning of August 18. It was shortly after breakfast. Your parents were alone at their lodge in the Catskills when your father told your mom he wanted a divorce. I know it’s painful, Celia, but can you describe what happened next?”

“I only know what Dad has told us. They argued and, according to him, Mom picked up the shotgun he uses for hunting pheasants and started threatening him.”

“The gun was just sitting there?” Lindsay asked.

“Apparently Dad had been planning a hunting expedition for later that day and he’d had his gun out of the cabinet where it was usually locked.”

“Isn’t early morning the best time for hunting pheasants?” Lindsay asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Celia asked, turning again to Nathan for support.

He just patted her hand. “She’s being thorough, Celia. That’s all.”