This story started here.
"Did you manage to find any other indications?"
He chuckled. "I'd say so. There was no diary, no letters, no address book. but the officers out there did find a couple of things. One was a school notebook, from a class in social studies. Apparently the girl's attention wandered from her lessons one day and she started doodling 'Tracy Trainor' over and over, with hearts and flowers and birds. So, I figure that's the guy's last name, Trainor. They didn't know where to look, and there are a lot of Trainors in the world, but you have a much better idea."
"Excellent. And the other thing?"
"A strip of photos, from one of those tourist booths where you get four pictures for a buck. They described it to me. It's a tight closeup on the two of them. She looks deliriously happy. The guy looks happy, though not delirious, and somewhat older. The officer out there reported that Trainor was wearing some kind of dark jacket with a high, stiff collar, with light-colored piping around it. They're looking into marching bands."
"That's my guess. So, are we square?"
"At least. Maybe a little bit better. Call me the next time you're stuck, and I'll see if I can set you straight."
He barked a laugh and hung up.
In the outer office, we found Ron and Bea happily working their way through a plate of sandwiches.
"Oh," Bea said, "did you want some of these?"