Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 92, No. 3. Whole No. 547, September 1988

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Art Schraeder was very specific about wanting one of the old Coronado flags, Nick told Gloria when she asked if he couldn’t just buy a new one.

“When does he want it?” she asked.

“I’m planning to scout the consulate tomorrow,” Nick told her. “It’s on upper Madison Avenue, in the Seventies.”

“Don’t lose any sleep over Sandra Paris,” Gloria said. “I’m sure she’s not involved...”

The embassy of the tiny Caribbean nation of Coronado was situated on Massachusetts Avenue in Washington, not far from the Naval Observatory and the Vice-President’s house. It was in one of several aging mansions that have found new life in the world of international diplomacy, and each morning at sunrise early-rising residents were sure to see the rainbow-colored flag being raised to the end of the pole that protruded from the center window of the top floor.

This particular morning in September seemed no different from any other. The flag of Coronado, looking just a bit faded from the sun, was run to the top of the pole promptly at 7:00 A.M. by the First Secretary of the delegation, a slick-haired man named Leon Oeste. He stood for a moment in the window as he always did, offering a salute as traffic passed below and a newsboy delivered his morning papers. Then he closed it and went down for breakfast with the ambassador.

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