Marshall’s office windows were dark when we got there. We stood on the sidewalk. I peeked around a post office box while Dudley followed me and frowned at the black building.
“Do you have a key?”
He frowned. “No, but I half expected him to be here.”
“What are you two doing?” a voice rang behind us.
It was Marshall. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, dressed in his gray suit with his gut hanging over his belt.
I didn’t know what to say. My tongue was tied in more knots than a ball of yarn the cat had been playing with.
Dudley salvaged the situation by doing the talking. “We want to discuss a case you’ve been working on,” he said smoothly.
Inwardly, I chuckled. I thought Dudley didn’t talk.
Luckily, Marshall looked interested. “Oh?”
***
In Marshall’s office, I found the fil
