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the writing might have been coerced. Nothing unusual at all. A lengthier sample would have offered further insight. “You don’t believe Lindsey wrote this?”
    “Hell no.”
    “What makes you so sure?”
    “She never printed. Ever. She never wrote in black ink, and she wouldn’t have used company letterhead.”
    Ivan’s words struck a chord. Lindsey’s odd quirk had always irritated Claudia. Twenty years earlier, when Lindsey had lived on a large Bel Air estate, she’d bragged to anyone who would listen that she had money to burn. Yet, when she sent personal letters, they invariably came written in her trademark green ink on the backs of junk mail or bills, sent in reused envelopes; a mailing label slapped over the original address.
    Extreme recycling.
    Ivan lit another smoke from the first, which was only half-consumed, and pointed at the paper Claudia held. “I’m not satisfied with the way the police handled this situation. They came up with some dumbshit theory that she wrote it, changed her mind and then went ahead and killed herself anyway. It’s ridiculous. I’m not buying it, not for a second.”
    Unwilling to accept what he was suggesting, Claudia shrugged. “Okay then, it was an accident. Too much booze and...”
    Ivan slammed his fist on the glass top hard enough to make the silver lighter jump. “No! Lindsey was murdered .”
    She’d known it was coming, yet the bald words still shook her. She massaged her throbbing temple, not wanting to hear what she knew was coming next. “I suppose you’ve told the police what you think?”
    Ivan slumped back against the chair, his face crumpling. “They weren’t interested in my opinion.”
    “Wouldn’t they have to do a thorough investigation for someone as high profile as Lindsey?”
    “If she’d been one of our clients they would. But the only time Lindsey was in the limelight was when she stood next to them. Reflected glory, isn’t that what they call it?” Rancor curled Ivan’s lip. “That damn detective never took it seriously. He claimed he had it examined by their experts and that they said she wrote it, but I’m telling you, she didn’t!”
    They had come to the crux of the meeting. Claudia tensed as Ivan rested his hands on the desktop and leaned forward.
    “I need you to prove she didn’t write the goddamned note. The life insurance companies are jerking me around. They don’t want to pay on a suicide.” Opening the drawer again, he took out a Waterman fountain pen and a leather bound checkbook. “Will a retainer of three thousand be enough to get you started?” He folded open the checkbook and began to write, the platinum nib scratching against the paper.
    Claudia’s hands shot out, palms forward. “Hold on a minute, Ivan.”
    “Four thousand? Five? Tell me what you need.”
    “It’s not the money. I need time to think.”
    Ivan sprang to his feet. “There is no time! Look, everyone knows you’re the best in the business. But you were also once her friend. Don’t you want to know the truth about her death?”
    Sitting in front of Lindsey’s desk with Ivan’s eyes boring into her, Claudia silently reviewed the catalog of inexcusable acts Lindsey had accumulated and weighed them against the earlier years when they had still been friends. There could only be one answer.

Chapter 3
    Claudia kicked off her sandals and trudged up to her second-floor office, more than ready for some down time after the loud crowd at Lindsey’s. Her bruised toes throbbed, keeping time with her headache. She sank into her desk chair with a sigh of relief and a tall glass of iced tea, and downed a handful of Ibuprofen.
    Before she’d taken her leave from Lindsey’s apartment, Ivan Novak had urged her to agree with his belief that Lindsey had not written the alleged suicide note. She’d had to lay down the law with him. Her opinion was not for sale.
    In as clear terms as she could manage, Claudia had explained that before she would be able to