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have to talk with the police?” Marsha asked, as we prepared to leave Scalawag.
    â€œI'll call Captain Walsh. Give me your cell number. When do you finish up at school?”
    â€œMy last class is over at 1:30, I'll probably be here by 3:00.”
    â€œOkay. I'll let you know.”
    Marsha appeared a lot stronger than I had earlier thought. As gut-wrenching as this was for her, she maintained equanimity and expressed appreciation for my explanations and for everything we had done for her. She felt she would be better off at school rather than sitting around the boat all day, but liked the idea of staying on Scalawag a night or two longer. Jerry got out the keys to the harbor gate and Scalawag's cabin.
    â€œYou will probably have the boat to yourself most of the week,” he said, handing her the keys. “We're not planning an overnight until the weekend.”
    â€œMarsha, there is something I need from you before we go.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œHelp me out with people in the Vice President's office.”
    â€œI only know of a couple really. Kat Turner is from Kansas and was probably Janet's best friend. Then there are Sarah McDowell, Lisa, and Alma—the party girls. Brenda plays on the softball team; I don't know Tina.”
    â€œAre they a general pool of labor?”
    â€œOh no!” Marsha replied quickly. “They each have their special areas. Kat is agriculture, and Lisa finance. Jan and Sarah worked on political and fundraising events. They had more contact with Ms. Grayson and the Vice President.”
    â€œThat's a good start. What about the chief of staff, William Adam Smith?”
    â€œHe goes by Adam. Other than that, I have no idea.”
    â€œThat's okay; you've been a big help.”
    Jerry dropped Marsha off at a metro station and me at the paper. As proud as I was of my headline story, I was glad few people were in the newsroom. I hoped this would be one of Wilder's late mornings.
    There was a voice mail from Mary telling me of her shock when she saw the paper. I typed my news assistant an e-mail response, and started out of the newsroom. A news release from the Vice President's office was in my box, I read it on my way to the elevator.
    Janet's body would be shipped back to Iowa as soon as MPD released it. There would be no service locally, and the church service along with the burial service would be private. Her family requested no interviews, as did the Vice President's office. That didn't deter me. I was heading for the White House.
    The Eisenhower Executive Office Building, or EOB as it more commonly referred, was on the corner of 17th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue Northwest. It was built between 1871 and 1888 for the State, War, and Navy departments. It now housed Executive Branch staff offices for the White House, the Offices of the Vice President, and other things not publicized.
    The paper was about a half mile to the EOB, which sat adjacent to the President's House. My walk took me through Lafayette Park and across Pennsylvania Avenue. The park acted as my transition between Washington's two vastly different worlds. The private sector and the federal government coexisted without overtly acknowledging the other.
    I cleared security, walked up the open marble staircase to the second level and down a corridor to the door marked “Vice President of the United States.” Flags and a pair of uniformed Secret Service officers flanked the entrance; I showed my pass and ID and was given entrée.
    I next presented my card to the receptionist and asked to see either Adam Smith or Judith Fisher. This may or may not work, but calling ahead would have preempted any opportunity in lieu of their press release.
    The receptionist called someone and spoke too quietly for me to hear. She stood up after hanging up. “Please step in here. Someone will be with you shortly.” She led me to a door off the reception area, which opened into a small conference