The Mother's Day Murder by Lee Harris Page B

the appointment that led to the student’s departure from the college. But just in case, I put it in my bag, brushed myself off, and left the room.
    The two rooms being renovated were on the third floor as was the other empty room. I went up the concrete stairs and found the two rooms side by side in the middle of the corridor. Two men were in the first room I reached, talking and working. I stepped inside.
    “Hi. Can I talk to you a minute?”
    “Sure.” The older man came down off a ladder where he had been standing with a paint roller, working on the ceiling. “Something we can do for you?”
    “Just a couple of questions. What time do you get here in the morning?”
    “We don’t come till nine. The Reverend Mother doesn’t want us around while the girls are dressing and getting ready for class.”
    “And when do you leave?”
    “Five, maybe four-thirty. Depends how we’re doing.”
    “What have you been doing besides painting?”
    “There was some water leakage. We had to find it, stop the leak, and repair the damage. This wall here was replastered like the one in the room on the other side.”
    “How long’ve you been working on that?”
    “ ’Bout a month. These rooms were empty because of the water.”
    “I want to ask you a funny question. Is there any chance someone could have been living in one of these rooms at night while you were working on them during the day?”
    “In here?” He looked around at the four walls as the other man put his tool down and stood up. “I don’t know how anyone could live here. There’s no bed or nothin’. We got drop cloths all over. It smells of paint now and it smelled of plaster last week.”
    The younger man rubbed his hands on his work clothes. “You think someone’s been camping out in here?” he asked.
    “I thought it was a possibility.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    I took the picture out of my bag. “Either of you ever see her? This was taken after she died.”
    “She died?” the older man said.
    “Over the weekend.”
    They both looked at it, then gave it back, the older man distinctly paler. I thanked them and looked for the last empty room. It was just on the other side of the stairway. The key got me in and I closed the door behind me.
    This room, too, had a covered bed with no bedding, a desk, and a chair. The desk was empty. I went over to the dresser and pulled open one drawer after another. In the top drawer I found some socks and underwear. In the second drawer there were a couple of nightshirts, two cotton blouses, and a pair of black sweatpants. The other drawers were empty. I repeated my previous search, drawers out, over, inspect cavity, with the same result: no secrets.
    I went to the closet and found a raincoat, a pair of sneakers, and a skirt. There was no light in the closet so I got down on my haunches and felt around the floor. Near the back wall I felt something. Pulling it out I saw that it was a backpack-style purse. By this time I was feeling very excited. I slipped on the gloves I had in my pocket, opened the purse, and went through it. There was a worn wallet with no money. I assumed the money had been transferred to Tina’s bag. There was a ballpoint pen, some tissues, a mirror from a hardware store, a half ticket that could have come from a local movie, a couple of paper clips and safety pins, and two envelopes that looked like handwritten personal letters.
    Before opening them, I went through the wallet carefully. Sure enough, there was a Social Security card for Randy Collins. I put everything back in the bag and took it with me. As I locked the door, a girl walked by.
    “Excuse me,” I said, stopping her. “Have you ever seen this girl? She died over the weekend.”
    She took the picture in her hand and looked at it seriously. “Was this taken after she was dead?”
    “Yes.”
    “I think I’ve seen her around. I don’t know who she is.”
    “Thank you.” I tucked the picture in my bag and went down the