They shook.

“You can call me Logan.”

“And I’m Joe.” Fulkerson glanced at the woman. “Thank you, Mary.”

She smiled and left.

Fulkerson motioned toward the guest chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.” Once they were both settled, he said, “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then Fulkerson leaned forward. “So Mrs. Johnson says you have some questions?”

“Yes, about the Lindley case,” Logan said.

“Right.” Fulkerson looked at his computer screen, moved the mouse, and clicked a few keys on the keyboard. “What can I help you with?”

“First off, I would love to take a look at the report.”

Fulkerson’s smile turned stale. “I believe Mrs. Johnson has copies of that at her office.”

“She probably does,” Logan agreed. “”But I’m not at her office, I’m here. And she said you’d be happy to help me.”

The private detective was having a hard time holding on to what was left of his smile.

“Is it a problem?” Logan asked.

“Of course not.” He picked up his phone and punched in a number. “Mary? Can you print out a copy of the Lindley file and bring it in here, please?” After he hung up, he stood. “I’ll walk you out to the lobby. My secretary will bring you the report as soon as she’s done.”

Remaining in his seat, Logan said, “Actually, I have a few questions I’d like to ask.”

“Like what?”

Logan eyed him for several seconds. “Sit down, Mr. Fulkerson. I’m not here to assess your performance or take work from you or anything like that. I’ve been asked to provide Alan Lindley with some help, and that’s all I’m trying to do.”

With reluctance, Fulkerson lowered himself back into his chair. “If Mrs. Johnson requires more help on the Lindley case, my agency is fully capable of providing that.”

Logan almost laughed. “I’m betting your agency does a lot of business with Mrs. Johnson’s firm. Is that right?”