Mac glanced over at the old man driving the van. “I
can’t tell from your tone what answer you’d prefer. Got a hot date you don’t
want to keep?”

 

Edgar Freed chuckled. “You’d think the
scooterchair would keep the quilting league ladies away, but I guess my natural
charm is just too powerful. I accidentally accepted three invitations for
dinner that night. A murder case is just the ‘get out of jail’ card I need.”

 

“Natural charm my–”

 

“JJ!” Mac checked his watch, then his
assistant who was on the back seat. “Please concentrate on that case file
I gave you. I need you up–to-speed fast. We don’t have the whole police file
yet, just my personal notes, newspaper clippings and some copies of witness
statements. And Edgar, until we know otherwise, this is a missing person case,
not a murder.”

“All this information needs to be converted to an
electronic file so I can read it on my laptop,” JJ complained. “Some
of the newspaper clippings are falling apart.”

“I didn’t have any trouble reading it,”
Edgar said. “Computers aren’t necessary for everything.” He cleared
his throat. “Mac, you have to admit that Norman girl has been gone a long
time. Odds are–”

“Yeah.” Mac settled back in his seat. “I
know what the odds are.”

Mac and his partner Lyle Harvey had gotten the call
around 1 p.m. on a blustery October day. They had just finished lunch, the
highlight of an uneventful first half of a twelve-hour shift. At first, they
had both believed the teenager had just gone wandering among the various
buildings comprising the Smithsonian. First-time visitors were usually unaware
that the Smithsonian wasn’t just one museum but a collection of buildings. It
wasn’t unusual for even adults to get separated from their party.

He took a deep breath as the memories flooded back.
The scene had not been secured. Evidence could have been lost. Even at the time
he’d known that the search for Amanda Norman had been bungled. Against his
protests, old Lyle, the senior detective in their partnership, had let the
busload of teens and chaperones leave before everyone had been questioned.

“The witness statements are a waste of time. Didn’t
Amanda have any friends on the trip? Most of these are from kids who claimed
not to know much about her.”

JJ’s question brought him back to the present.

“We didn’t find any,” Mac answered. “Amanda
seemed to be a loner.”

“This is a handicap spot,” JJ complained as
Edgar parked the van.

“I know it’s barely noticeable, but I fit that
description.” Edgar looked at the young woman in his rearview mirror. “That’s
the reason I can usually find a parking place in this town. Why else do you
think the boss had me drive?”

JJ grimaced. “Probably because my ride is in the
shop and all Jeff O’Herlihy has in his fleet this week is a neon green Honda with
a bad transmission.”

“Enough, you two.” Mac pulled the latest
postcard from his jacket pocket and handed it to the old man. “Edgar, your
mission is to find out everything you can about this postcard. Check out the
gift shop or wherever they’re selling this stuff.”

 

Edgar nodded. “Wild goose chase. You can probably
buy this postcard at almost any drugstore in town.”
 

“Still, we have to start somewhere. Maybe this is
a new postcard, just released for sale. This mystery started here; maybe my pen
pal wants it to end here.” Mac shook his head. He knew it was unlikely
that canvassing the museum stores would produce anything, but it had to be
done.

He turned to face JJ. “You and I are going to
walk the crime scene and see if there is anyone still working here that recalls
the incident. I’m hoping someone might dredge up something they didn’t tell the
police before. Remember being a detective ain’t glamorous. It’s 99 percent
grunt work, one percent luck.”

JJ sighed. “Right, I know. You’ve said it a
hundred times, your job is to be lucky and Edgar and I are supposed to handle
the grunt parts.”