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asked.
    â€œSomeone stole my Nats hat?”
    â€œIn the cafeteria?”
    â€œNo. From our room. Last night while we were downstairs.”
    Mullins rubbed his chin like he was thinking about possible solutions. “Well, your aunt said you changed rooms. That’s probably when it got lost.”
    â€œNo. I looked for it before then.” He turned to his aunt. “Tell him about your makeup.”
    Mullins was suddenly interested. “Was something else missing?”
    Li shook her head dismissively. “My makeup case and our toiletries. We didn’t actually move them. The hotel staff brought our things to the new room.”
    â€œBut you went back first to your original room?”
    â€œYes. A policeman entered first to make sure no one waited inside. Then we were only there five minutes before the decision was made to change rooms. His hat could have fallen under the bed.”
    â€œDid you notice if your toiletries were gone?”
    â€œNone of us went in the bathroom,” Li said. “Things were so chaotic I’m just grateful our luggage made it.”
    â€œWill you take the case?” Peter asked. “I can pay. I get an allowance.”
    â€œOh, really?” Mullins made a great show of being impressed. “Well, I couldn’t possibly take your money until I recover. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
    Peter nodded solemnly.
    â€œBut I’ll make a few calls to some detective friends. If it’s not solved by the time I’m better, I’ll work on your case personally. How’s that sound?”
    Peter thrust out his little hand. “You’ve got a deal, Mr. Mullins.”

Chapter Six
    Nearly two weeks after the assassinations, Mullins had yet to hear any update on the investigation. His own inactivity created growing frustration and restlessness, but he had few options.
    His surgeon had urged him not to drive until he was further along in healing. Unfortunately, the doctor gave those post-operative instructions in front of Kayli, and his daughter had had the audacity to remove the Prius from the JW Marriott and park it on the street in front of her condo in Arlington. She kept the keys safely stowed in her purse. He felt like a teenager who’d been grounded.
    Mullins lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a high-rise building called Shirlington House. He’d moved there a few years after his wife died of ovarian cancer because it was located midway between Kayli’s condo and the convenience of the upscale shops and restaurants that made up the Shirlington neighborhood. His walk was less than a mile to either destination.
    Kayli lived in Fairlington Villages, a neighborhood constructed during World War Two to house Pentagon officers and their families. Her husband, Lieutenant Commander Allen Woodson, was a naval intelligence officer on a ship somewhere off the east coast of Africa. Kayli was essentially a single mom juggling her part-time job at the Shirlington Library with the demanding responsibilities of raising a three-year-old. When Mullins wasn’t working, he became the chief backup babysitter for his grandson, Josh, a title he relished.
    Convenience to his grandson offered another advantage. Kayli brought him dinner every night until he felt well enough to join her and Josh around her dining room table. That had been the extent of his outings when he’d received a call from Elizabeth Lewison. The widow of his boss and friend wanted to meet and discuss something personal.
    On the second Thursday after his release from the hospital, Mullins strolled along the sidewalk, glad to be out on the sunny April morning, but anxious about seeing Elizabeth. They’d spoken briefly at Ted’s memorial service. She was still in shock and swamped by numerous friends offering condolences; he was still weak and unsteady, forced to lean on Kayli as they processed along the receiving line.
    His real anxiety lay in