I chose Chinese, and arrived on time to be greeted by a baggy sweat shirt identified with the words 'Time waits for no man - that's because time is a woman', and a pair of tight leggings.

"I smell sweet and sour." She took the bag and headed back inside.

"Should I have dressed for the occasion," I asked, joining her in the kitchen.

A quick appraisal and she went back to dishing out the food. "I guess you can pull off police casual."

Who was this woman? "I hope Chinese was okay."

"Perfect, here take these to the dining room." She handed me two bowls and draped a couple of linen serviettes over my shoulder.

We settled at the table at right angles, knees bumping once. She served helpings without asking, and raised the small cup toward me. "Kanpai!"

I held up my own cup and replied, "Cheers." Warm sake swam down my throat and I looked at her in surprise. "Japanese sake with Chinese food?"

"It's all made from rice, close enough." She began eating right away.

"Marketing analysis must cause quite an appetite." I watched as she used the chopsticks instead of her fork. I looked at mine and decided on discretion.

"What did you want to update me on?"

Enough small talk. "Something I meant to ask you. I'd like to get your phone records and see if we can tell where that call originated."

"I thought you would have done that already."

"In this instance, not without permission. I'm on a bit of thin ice working this case. It hasn't been officially authorized."

"Permission granted." She refilled my sake mug, and took another bite of egg roll.

"Something else I discovered that just adds to this mystery. Baker only had history on the parents and two kids, there was no mention of relatives on either side. He was on it for over a year and yet there is no mention of grandparents, siblings, nothing."

"That is odd. Wait a sec, I've got an ancestry account, we can do some searches on that." She wiped her fingers on the serviette and left the table, returning a moment later with a laptop.

"Don't you need DNA for those things?"

"No. I can search names and the site gives me possible associations, but only for deceased. They would be in huge trouble giving out information on living people. How old were they in 2004?"

I got my notepad from my police casual jacket and thumbed through to the family stats.

"Frank Crawford was thirty-one, his wife twenty-nine. That wouldn't really make their parents old enough to show up on your program would it."

"Some die young." She tapped away, reading and muttering to herself. "Did he have a middle name?"

"No. Neither did she. That's another oddity. Most people have middle names."

I've got three Crawfords. Two Williams and an Edgar. They each had three kids. Huh, another odd one. Where did they live before here, did Baker find out?"

"Hmm - Michigan is all it says, for both of them. No addresses. What the heck." I closed the book and broke open a fortune cookie. "I don't think your site is going to find them for us.

"Is that your solution?" She went on typing furiously.

"It says, 'The wisest man listens'. You want to hear the joke?"

"Pass. Listen to this. Obituaries for Crawford in the state of Michigan in the year 1973, that's when our Crawford would have been born. Franklin Crawford, son of Mary and William. Suffered sudden death syndrome at birth. "

I stared at her, the information swirling and settling into an idea. "You think the Crawfords stole identities?"

"It would sure help make them invisible."

"But why? I know WITSEC provides new identities."

"What's that?

"Witness security. You know, people who testify and have to be hidden away from retribution. They're given new identities and moved to some place far from possible harm. They aren't supposed to contact anyone from their previous lives."

"Could that be what happened here?"

"I don't know. I might be able to get some info from the US Marshal's office, but they're pretty tight-lipped."

"After nine years! Maybe they found them and said nothing."

I pulled back and, scratched my head. "I don't know. Baker must have asked."

"It's not in his notes. His notes aren't as complete as you'd like to believe. Maybe those last days robbed him of his abilities - you said he was drinking a lot."

The idea didn't sit well, and I almost resented the fact that she could be right. He had been my rabbi in that last week before he retired. He taught me a lot, and now I'm remembering that those final days were more about grooming me than working the case. He gave up. He just wanted to be seen to be trying until his tour was up.

"I'll get on to the Marshal's office first thing tomorrow, and I'll run your phone then too. That was some good detecting there, Miss Howard."

"Was the dinner worth it?"

"The dinner and the company." I huffed a breath, knowing I'd done it again.

"Good. You can help with the dishes."

"What no washer? Marketing analysis not a lucrative business?" I tried to cover my earlier remark with some weak humour. Which is worse, idiot?

"It's usually my contemplative time. I enjoy it." She smiled.

"Well I'd be happy to help you contemplate . . ." Again, Standing! "You know - doing dishes . . .?"

She let the comment pass, and we stood side by side as she passed the soapy dinnerware into my side of the sink.

"Just turn the tap on to rinse them."

"I can do that." And I did, drying them and placing them on the counter. "So what is this Marketing business you do. You have a lot of clients?"

"Quit making silly small talk, Detective. Say what you mean, it's what I advise my clients. Truth in advertising and all that."

Talk about blunt! I could feel the heat starting in my toes. She was drying her hands and watching me with amusement. My eyes dropped to the slogan on her shirt and I started to shake with laughter, then before I could stop, I was laughing out loud.

"Something funny, Detective?"

I could hardly speak, and I pointed to her shirt. "I was thinking, I'd like some time on my hands."

Her expression never changed, and I nearly choked into silence.

Word count to this point - 3186