The House of Seven Mabels

allow us to get at his records. Even if we did, he’s bright enough not to leave evidence of personal conversations in his files.“
    “Have you interviewed any of Sandra’s friends from her feminist group?“
    “Dozens. The most hostile group of women I’ve come across. They regard her as a saint.“
    “To be a real saint, you have to be dead,“ Jane said. “I wonder if they thought so when she was alive. Oh, I never thought to ask. Did you check the dust marks on the steps to the basement?“
    Mel just stared at her for a long moment. “First pictures taken. And somebody with far too much free time had recently swept them. The only thing on the steps was a bit of mud from the shoe of the doctor who pronounced her dead.“
    Jane stared back. “Don’t you think that’s odd?“
    “Of course it’s odd. There was a broom down there. And before you ask the obvious question, yes, it was fingerprinted and was absolutely clear of prints.“
    “You don’t really think this was an accident, do you?“ Jane asked.
    “I don’t think it for a moment, but I can’t disprove it, either.“ His pager beeped and he said, “It’s forensics. May I use your phone? My cell phone’s gone all staticky and someone in the office is trying to replace it and get the same number.“
    When he returned the call, he kept nodding and looking glummer by the minute. Hanging up, he said, “The scene-of-the-crime guys were right. The only new stuff on the damned bushes was a paper-based substance with a few threads. From a coverall that’s sold in, oh, maybe a thousand paint and hardware stores just in the Chicago area alone.“
    “No fingerprints?“ Jane asked.
    “Do you have any idea how common latex or plastic gloves are? You can get them in most drugstores, even if you have to purchase a box of hair color. Even more easily in paint and hardware stores. I liked the good old days when gloves were leather or fabric. At least they’d sometimes leave some kind of print or evidence. I guess I’m just going to have to start another whole round of interviews tomorrow and see if there’s any triviality we’ve missed. Do you mind if I skip out on you and spend what’s left of the evening going over what I already have so far?“
    “I don’t. But I wish I could help. Shelley and I know the workers on a more friendly basis than you do. We haven’t a clue in spite of that, except the missing purse. I can’t remember if I told you that when we first met Sandra it was at a restaurant and she had it slung across her shoulder and never turned loose of it. She even got her fork tangled in the strap, but didn’t let it go. I thought even then it was sort of odd.
    “When most women eat out, they set it next to them. And when they’re working at an office or job site, they lock it up somewhere. Under the seat of their car sometimes. Or in a drawer to which they have the only key. But Sandra never let hers leave her body.“
    “Maybe she was one of those people who always carried a whole lot of cash around,“ Mel speculated.
    Jane shook her head. “In my experience traveling with my parents all over the world, my folks always had paper money concealed in a thin pack tied underneath their clothing. I don’t think it was cash she was protecting.“
    “Then what would a woman keep in a purse that she couldn’t keep in such a pack?“ Mel asked.
    Jane shrugged. “Drugs? A notebook of important data? A datebook? A weapon such as a sharp knife or gun?“
    After Mel had gone, Jane called Shelley. “Come on over if you’re free. We need to toss around some ideas about the missing purse.“
    When Shelley arrived, she said, “You know, I just realized it wasn’t always the same purse.“
    “No?“
    “She had two in the same style. One was a dark blue or black. The other was the exact same style, but in a sort of dark taupe. She must have been concerned about being color savvy,“ Shelley said.
    “I think you’re right. She had the dark one at the restaurant and the brownish one that she normally had strapped across her chest at work. I hadn’t realized that until you mentioned it. But, Shelley, neither of them was huge. Large, but not the enormous sort of thing you’d take on a plane with all your medications, a change of underwear, makeup, mouthwash, and your jewelry bag, in case the checked luggage didn’t show up.“
    Shelley grinned at the image. “I traveled with Paul and his assistant once on a flight. I had my