Marge laughed and so did he. A moment later, a man walked through a door marked PERSONNEL ONLY, a mellow voice introducing himself as Gordon Shockley. He shook Marge’s hand first, then Oliver’s.

Midforties. About six two, and well built. Curly, bronzed hair streaked with gray and thinning at the top. Deep brown eyes, aquiline nose, thin lips, and the smooth, almost wet-looking skin that comes from a very close shave. He wore a custom-made suit, the last button on the sleeve left undone to prove the point. Navy wool crepe. Oliver eyed it enviously. It spoke Italian. It said, “I’m Expensissimo.”

“This way, please,” Shockley led. “Were the directions adequate?”

“They were fine,” Marge answered.

They followed Shockley back through the PERSONNEL ONLY door to the elevator, and went up a flight. His office was a corner suite. Marge noticed another young cutie secretary as they passed through the receptionist’s office into Shockley’s chamber. Obviously, the same designer had done up the entire building. Same marble, same dark suede furniture and glass tables, and the same talentless art. Shockley’s desk looked to be eight feet long, constructed out of a single piece of black granite. Had as much warmth as a sarcophagus. The saving grace of the place was two walls of view. Green hills covered with wildflowers bleeding into a silvery-blue blade of ye olde Pacific. A whispery sky crowned the scene.

“Please, have a seat,” Shockley stated. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Nothing, thanks,” Marge said.

“Detective?” Shockley looked at Oliver.

“Right now, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Easy customers.” Shockley’s expression turned grave. “Terrible thing about Dr. Sparks. I’m stunned.”

Oliver slipped out his notepad. “Did you know him well?”

“I knew him on a professional level. A very brilliant man.”

“Seems to be the general consensus,” Marge said, also taking notes.

“His genius is absolutely undebatable.”

“I heard he was also very exacting. Did you get along with him?”

Shockley eyed Marge. “Of course, he was exacting. With that high of an intellect, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Oliver repeated, “Did you get along with him?”

“Yes.” Shockley smiled. “We’re both exacting people.”

Ergo, both of you are of high intellect. Marge said, “No conflict?”

“What kind of conflict, Detective?”

“You were doing business with him, Doctor,” Oliver said. “There’s always negotiation in business.”

“We weren’t trading rugs, Detective.”

“No, you were trading millions of dollars.”

Shockley folded his hands and placed them on the desk. “I’m not sure why you people have decided to come out here. But let me clue you in on something. Fisher/Tyne is a major corporation in this country. We are public. Information about us is available to you through various K-forms and prospectuses. All very up and up. If you want to find out more about us, help yourself.”

Marge and Oliver traded glances. She said, “Doctor, what is your official position at Fisher/Tyne?”