Page 104 of Lorenzo

“Man or woman?” Donna asks patiently.

“Man.”

My attention sharpens.

“Description,” I say.

The motel manager looks at me, then at Donna.

“Tall,” he says. “Dark coat. Hat.”

“Can you be more specific?” Donna says.

“I only saw him once, and it was through a window.”

“Did he stay through the night?”

“I don't know why I don't work mornings.”

“Who works in the mornings?” Donna asks, and I can tell she’s getting less patient now, but she hasn’t snapped at the guy yet.

“The morning manager,” the guy says.

“Helpful,” Donna says dryly. “Did she ask for a particular room when she stayed?”

“Yeah, in the back.”

“Room number,” I say.

He hesitates.

I move closer to the divider.

“Seventeen,” he says, glancing at me nervously.

Donna glances toward the parking lot. “Is it currently occupied?”

“No.”

“Can we see it?”

“No.”

“She may be connected to a murder.”

“That’s your problem.”

“She may have left something behind.”

“Housekeeping has been in there.”

“I'm sure they did a bang-up job,” Donna says. “How long since the woman was last here? Think!” She drops her palm on the counter, startling the man, when it looks like he’s going to avoid the question again.

“Three days!” he says, eyes wild. “She was here three days ago.”

Donna’s eyes narrow. “Three days? That's not a few weeks.”

“I got the dates mixed up,” he says nervously.