DC By the Book

Excerpt: The corpse was well dressed. Washington Post reporter Joe Potamos looked down at the body behind a bench in the pocket park in front of the hotel at I and K Streets, on the eastern edge of Foggy Bottom. the victim was a white make with neatly trimmed and combined salt-and-pepper hair. His suit was blue, shirt white, tie gray with small red-and-white flags.... Uniformed officers stretched yellow crime-scene tape around the scene. A late-arriving EMS team knelt next to the body. Pressing in for a closer look were a half-dozen homeless men for whom the park passed for home in summer. One of them had alerted a passing squad car to the dead man's intrusion. -- HISTORICAL CONTEXT --> The discovery of a body in this park opens the 17th book in the "Capital Crimes" mystery series. Written by the daughter of President Harry Truman, the series totals 24 titles, each centered around a particular famous Washington landmark, institution, or neighborhood.

Excerpt: Joe Harris went outside to Pennsylvania Avenue before returning to his office in the Hoover Building.... He lit up and walked to the corner of E Street, where hundreds of tourists were lined up for the FBI tour, one of the most popular in Washington.... thousands of visitors filed through every day, learning that G-man stands for Government Man, and that the FBI stands for Federal Bureau of Investigation but also that the F stands for Fidelity, the B for Bravery, and the I for Integrity.... Harris agreed with most Washingtonians, at least those who cared about such things, that the buff-colored, concrete-aggregate building named after J. Edgar Hoover ranked high on the city's list of ugly edifices, a prime example of the school of architecture known as New Brutalism. He snuffed the cigarette out, dropped it in a trash container on the corner, and cast a final glance at the tourists. Everyone in Washington, DC was hot in summer, but there was no hotter-looking creature on earth than a tourist waiting in line for a tour.

Excerpt: Jessica arrived at Primi Piatti early; she was early to most appointments. "Ah, Ms. Mumford," said the maitre d', "what a pleasure to see you again." He led her through the large, Art Deco room to a table for two in a far corner, held out her chair, and asked if she'd like a drink while waiting or her dinner companion.

Excerpt: Jessica Mumford tried to get her students in post-Soviet Russian-U.S. relations back on track but was losing the battle. By the time they'd arrived at the three o'clock calss in GW's School of Diplomacy and International Relations, the only thing on their respective and collective minds were the day's airline tragedies and the unconfirmed reports that missiles had been involved.