Free A Quiet Death by Marcia Talley Page A

court at nearby Union Station, but police could turn up no evidence that she had done either.
    Conservative Lynx news commentator John Chandler, every silver hair neatly arranged, accused the police of botching the investigation due to jurisdictional squabbles. Interviewed on the set of his show, And Your Point Is? , Chandler hastened to clarify that Meredith was not an intern, as had been reported in the media, but a production assistant. Meredith worked in the And Your Point Is? production office, answering phones, taking deliveries, preparing scripts, picking up lunches, and performing other tasks related to the show. Recently, she had been filling in on the physical set of the production, too. She was a ‘company woman’ with a promising future, Chandler reported, a real trooper, regularly the first to arrive and the last to leave. She would be greatly missed.
    Lynx News didn’t exactly have a reputation for giving cops a fair shake, so I clicked over to Channel 4 News where an archived ‘Watch This’ video featured a police spokeswoman responding to Chandler’s stinging on-air criticism. ‘Policing in DC is complicated,’ the woman explained. ‘There are at least twenty-one police jurisdictions in the district. Some overlap and cooperate, while others are exclusive. Meredith Logan’s body was found on Capitol grounds by Capitol Police. The Capitol Police have exclusive jurisdiction within the United States Capitol grounds, and concurrent jurisdiction with other law enforcement agencies including the United States Park Police and the DC Metropolitan Police Force in an area of approximately two hundred blocks around the Capitol complex.’ According to the spokeswoman, all three agencies were co-operating to help bring Meredith Logan’s killer to justice.
    Super.
    It had taken over ten years of similar ‘cooperation’ before Chandra Levy’s killer was finally brought to trial.
    When it came to the Meredith Logan investigation, I was sitting on John Chandler’s side of the fence for once.
    The next day, my heart ached as Emily stood on our porch with red-rimmed eyes, her skin so white that her pale yellow hair shone bright by comparison. Pain washed over her face, like when she was a toddler and her Raggedy Ann doll went missing, and the pain was just as real then as it was now.
    Emily reached into her tote and pulled out a miniature statue. I recognized it at once – the goddess Athena. A seven-and-a-half-foot tall statue of Athena had graced the Bryn Mawr campus for over a century, and students frequently made offerings to her, asking for her help with papers or exams, or in dealing with the usual vicissitudes of academia. ‘This was Meredith’s,’ Emily explained. ‘She gave it to me, and I’m going to give it to Meredith’s mother. Do you think that will be OK?’
    I gave my daughter a hug, kissed her cheek and sent her on her sorrowful errand. ‘I think Meredith’s mother would appreciate it very much.’

ELEVEN
    I ’d finished the sweater. Blocked the pieces, sewn it together, and attached the buttons. It fit perfectly and had even garnered compliments from Emily, new-age fashionista, when I showed up at Spa Paradiso for the massage she’d arranged to thank me for my babysitting services.
    Now I needed another project.
    I could rake leaves (would that involve ‘screwing?’) alphabetize my spice rack, or . . .
    â€˜I’m taking the train up to New York City today,’ I announced to my sister, Ruth, as we lingered over our two-egg platters at Chick and Ruth’s Delly (no relation!), a few doors up Main Street from Ruth’s shop, Mother Earth.
    Ruth paused, coffee mug halfway to her mouth. ‘And you’re doing this, why?’
    â€˜I considered flying to Paris or Seville, or one of the other exotic locations where Lilith Chaloux preferred to receive her mail, but the