Murder in the Smithsonian by Margaret Truman Read Free Book Online Page B

recluse. But they were fond of each other.”
    “And your uncle introduced you to him?”
    “No, Dr. Tunney stopped by the museum one time and introduced himself after he’d visited my uncle. You see, Captain, my parents died when I was an infant and Calum raised me as a daughter.”
    “Sounds like a good man.”
    “I adored him, and he adored me.”
    Hanrahan could believe it. He was impressed with her clear-skinned beauty and eyes that never let you go. By now his overall impression was that this lady was legit, no games, told you straight out what she thought but wasn’t out to offend. He liked her. “What about Dr. Tunney’s activities before he flew here from London, Miss McBean? It might help us to know that.”
    “Nothing very unusual. He was busy organizing his life after having spent two years on a research project that came a cropper. He was glad it was over, and surprisingly enough after spending two years chasing some rainbows, he was in quite good spirits.”
    “What about just before his trip here? Did he indicate anything that might have some bearing on what happened to him?”
    She told him what she’d told Chloe.
    “No names?” Hanrahan asked. “Did he say who he planned to see in Washington to solve the problem?”
    She shook her head. “He was anxious to see your vice president, Mr. Oxenhauer. They were old friends.”
    He scribbled notes on a yellow pad. “There was also a theft that night. Did you know that?”
    “Yes, I did. My uncle Calum was the one who donated the Legion of Harsa to the Smithsonian.”
    “Oh?”
    “Oh, yes, and it caused quite a good deal of upset in his life. He’d sent it to Chloe Prentwhistle at the Smithsonian’s Museum of American History. She accepted it but wrote back that it would probably take years of investigation to find out whether it truly was the Harsa. That, to put it mildly, angered my uncle. He wrote her and said, among other things…” She laughed. “I recall this line so vividly. He said that if her ‘pompous, arrogant and haughty attitude was any indication of the basic American character he was glad to never have visited her country and would see to it that he never did.’”
    “Sounds like a man who knew his own mind… How long will you be in Washington?”
    “Until whoever killed Lewis is brought to justice.”
    “That might take a long time.”
    “I don’t care.”
    “Where will you be staying?”
    “The Madison.”
    “I’ll be in touch… you know, some aspects of this case are over my head.”
    “What are they, Captain?”
    “The museum world, the missing medal, background on Dr. Tunney that might relate to his death. You could help me.”
    “I’ll do
anything
you ask.”
    “I appreciate that, Miss McBean. Here’s my card. I’ll put my home number on it. Call any time, day or night.”
    She put his card in her blazer pocket, and he walked her downstairs and watched her disappear around a corner.
    Ten minutes later he was sitting in Commissioner Johnson’s office.
    “How’d it go with the vice president, Mac?”
    “Not bad… Tunney told the veep something interesting just before he was murdered.”
    Johnson sat forward.
    “Oxenhauer claims that Tunney told him he had proof of a major scandal in the Smithsonian that, like they say, could blow its lid off.”
    “And?”
    “The veep says he doesn’t know what the scandal is.”
    Johnson sat back. “How could he
not
know if Tunney told him?”
    “According to Oxenhauer Tunney never got specific. They made a date for the next morning but, as we know, Tunney didn’t show up.”
    “Do you believe Oxenhauer?”
    “He’s the vice president.”
    “He’s also a politician.”
    “Then let’s say I half believe him. I just talked to Tunney’s fiancée, a girl named Heather McBean. She says pretty much what Oxenhauer told me… that Tunney knew about something brewing at the Smithsonian. He wouldn’t tell her the specifics, either, promised to do it when he got