Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “There are a lot of blonde women in the world,” he said. “This is just a coincidence.”

  “But what was she doing in the condo?” Mitzy took a bite of her garlic bread.

  “Let the police find out.”

  “Of course. But who was she? Why did she go to my condo at all, much less get killed there? And how did she get in?”

  “Could she have been one of the repair people? Or one of the cleaners?”

  “Maybe. But then, how long has she been out there? All of your guys were done a week ago. The cleaners and I haven’t been there in three days. She wasn’t working with us. And if she was on your team you would have recognized her.” Mitzy bit into a soft potato dumpling. She had to take a drink of water to swallow it. “She couldn’t have been there to work. There’s just no way.”

  “Was she another Realtor? Maybe she went there to see the house?”

  “It hasn’t been listed since I took the offer.”

  “Was she the other Realtor? The buyer’s rep?”

  “No, my friend Tina represented the buyer, you know, the gal who lives in Canby? Her son plays football for Portland State? That wasn’t Tina.”

  Alonzo shrugged and ate some more bread.

  “It must have been the buyer!” Mitzy said, sitting up. “I haven’t met her yet, but I know she’s a younger woman. And who else would want to go in? Maybe she went there with Tina just to see it and Tina left her to lock up? I’d better make a call.” She pulled her phone out of her purse.

  “Put that back,” Alonzo said, jumping a little.

  “What? My phone?”

  “Yes! Don’t call a Realtor and tell her that her client is dead. Especially when we don’t know who the dead woman really is!”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “I don’t know. A neighbor? A vagrant? A burglar?”

  “She wasn’t my neighbor. Her clothes were way too nice to be a vagrant, and who would burgle an empty condo?”

  “Burgle?”

  “Yes. What could a burglar get in an empty condo?”

  “What if she broke into another condo and fell onto your porch and hit her head?”

  “Mine is the penthouse. She’d have to fall from the sky.”

  “What if she…what if she didn’t know it was empty?”

  “Could be. But how did she hit her own head that hard and fall over face forward?”

  The server came and refilled their waters. Mitzy wondered what he made of their conversation.

  “You’ll just have to watch the news like everyone else to find out what happened.” Alonzo twirled a fork load of spaghetti.

  Mitzy tried another bite of her gnocchi, but again the food clung to her throat. She took a deep drink from her lemon water. “I wonder what Detective Backman would make of this.”

  “Your purse is ringing.” Alonzo was stretched across the sofa in the living room of his little house.

  Mitzy dug her phone out of the depths of her bag. She looked at the caller ID and frowned. “They can leave a message.” She set her phone on top of her bag but kept tapping it.

  “Take the call. I don’t mind,” Alonzo said.

  After the early dinner at Alessandra’s, he and Mitzy had gone straight back to his house.

  She couldn’t deny it, she felt safer with her man than she felt all alone, housesitting for her parents. She flushed with shame that at thirty-one she didn’t want to be alone. But then, it had been a murder. There was no shame in wanting to be with someone else after finding a corpse.

  “No, not right now. It wasn’t urgent.”

  “You get calls that aren’t urgent?”

  “Every now and again.” Mitzy kept tapping the phone. She gazed out the window into the dusky night.

  “Sit down. Relax. Pray or something.”

  “Pray or something?”

  “You know what I mean. You are very tense.” Alonzo sat up on his elbows. “I don’t do this well. Sorry. This body thing was a big deal. So…pray about it. Or you could pray with me.” Alonzo’s shoulders rose visibly.

  Mitzy watched his discomfort grow. She shook her head.

  “I won’t make you do that right now.” She sat down on the edge of the sofa at his feet. “Praying out loud with other people gets easier with practice though. You’ll like it once you get used to it.”

  Alonzo pulled himself all the way up, and pulled Mitzy into his arms. “Let’s try it now,” he said in a quiet voice.

  Mitzy sighed. She wanted to pray with him and to be overwhelmed by a sense of God’s protection and love in a trying time, but she felt awkward praying with Alonzo. He was just such a baby Christian. “Why don’t you just hold me a while and we can sort of…” she trailed off.

  “No,” Alonzo said in a firmer voice. “I need to man up someday. Let me pray for you.” He closed his eyes and cleared his throat, “Dear Lord…” he stopped and held Mitzy in silence for a moment.

  In her heart Mitzy supplied her own request, “Dear, dear, Lord, don’t let me get killed.”

  Alonzo began again, “Dear, dear Lord. This woman is your daughter and I love her. Please….” he paused, “please carry this burden for her.” He sighed. “Amen.”

  “Amen,” Mitzy said. She didn’t give Alonzo enough credit. New in his faith, Alonzo had been able to pare down his request to its core without worrying about form or convention. It felt good to be held up before God in that way. But she repeated her own request as well, “Please, please dear Lord,” her heart cried out, “don’t let me get murdered.”

  Her cell phone rang again.

  “Are you sure that’s not urgent?” Alonzo asked. He leaned closer to her and caressed her neck with his cheek.

  She picked the phone up again. “I can’t see why it would be.”

  Alonzo inhaled deeply and pulled his nuzzling self away from Mitzy. “Go in the office and answer it. I don’t mind. It’s probably your other boyfriend.”

  Mitzy scrunched up her mouth. She stood up, the phone still ringing, and went into the hall. “Yes?” She said with a frown.

  “Hi yourself,” Ben said. Her old tech guru and graphics guy had quit working for her after the little matter of his kidnapping earlier in the year.

  “Is this urgent?”

  “A little.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “Oh, you’re with Alonzo, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve had a rough evening. I could tell you all about it but I’m not in the mood. You can read about it in the paper tomorrow.”

  “That’s not fair, Is it a business thing? A city thing? Who are you fighting now?”

  “Why did you call?”

  “Oh come on, you can’t tell me to read it in the paper. Give up the goods.”

  “Ben. You called. Tell me why or I’m hanging up.”

  “Mitzy, be a sport.”

  “Does Jenny know you are calling me?”

  “Not fair.”

  “Who wants to be fair? You called. You didn’t text, you didn’t email. You called. If it is that important, spit it out.”

  “Your server is down.” Ben said.

  “So?”

  “So, it may be down for a while. Anyone searching for homes in Portland will not be able to get to your website. I’m sorry. It can’t be helped. But you needed to know.”

  “Yes. I guess I did. I sort of needed to know. Since it can’t be helped, I guess I didn’t actually need to know,” Mitzy said. “You made a risky choice calling.”

  “Hey, I’m your webmaster. I had to call. I just do what I gotta do.”

  “You’re the one who feels the need to be my secret webmaster. I’m perfectly happy to let the world know that you still work for me.”

  “But Mitzy…Jenny—you know how she feels.”

  “She still blames me. Like your kidnapping could have been my fault.” Mitzy tried to keep her voice down. Her face felt hot. She tried to keep her hands still but it was difficult. She felt the weight of death on her shoulders,
and her insides twisted with fear and shame. Where did her fault lie in this? She was scared like a victim, but riddled with guilt like she had done something wrong. She used two hands to hold the phone to her ear, just to keep it still.

  “While the scooter Mafia had me tied up. I missed our wedding cake testing. It might not be a big deal to you, but that mattered to my wife.”

  “That was not my fault.” Her voice quavered.

  “Jenny just doesn’t agree. And she kind of has a point. I haven’t been assaulted or kidnapped since I quit working for you. But listen, don’t cry about it. I’ll try and take care of your internet issues. And if you don’t want me to call I won’t call anymore, okay?”

  “I do want you to call! And I want you to work from the desk in my office! Quit making all of your problems my fault.” Mitzy’s voice rose She wanted to punch him for blaming his stupid secret-webmaster-plan on her.

  “I can’t do that. Trouble follows you Mitzy. That’s all Jenny knows.”

  The image of the dead woman on the patio overwhelmed Mitzy. She leaned against the wall and tried to take a deep breath. “Don’t call again until you’ve fixed this.”

  “Fine. As soon as the server is back up, I’ll call.”

  Mitzy swallowed a wave of nausea. “No. Don’t call again until you are ready to work for me. I’ll fix my own computer.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’ll be watching the paper tomorrow to see what trouble you’re in now. I’ll text when the server is back up, See you.”

  Mitzy ended the call.

  “Boyfriend doing well?” Alonzo said when she came back.

  She faked a stiff laugh. “As well as ever.” She sat down next to him and watched as her knees shook. She pressed her palms onto them.

  Alonzo sat up and placed his warm hand on top of hers. “That sounded like a bad phone call. What’s wrong?”

  “I…” Mitzy looked into Alonzo’s deep black eyes. She should tell him about Ben. She knew saying it out loud would put Ben’s secret into perspective. She needed perspective. She closed her eyes for a moment, to disengage from Alonzo. She could break her promise to Ben and tell Alonzo about his work, but that wouldn’t make what Ben said any easier to swallow. Trouble followed her and the murder was her fault whether or not Ben was her webmaster.

  She opened her eyes again but looked away from Alonzo. “I’m having computer problems. I kind of…blew it out of proportion because of …because of the murder.”

  He lifted his hand off her knee. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But don’t forget that I’m the one who is here for you. Not whoever that was on the phone.”

  She looked at him again, but he wasn’t making eye contact. “I just can’t say more. I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever.” He turned his head slowly and met her eye. The hard look he wore a moment earlier softened. “Business is business. It’s fine. But you are a wreck. You can’t be alone tonight. Your parents aren’t back yet, are they?”

  “No. It will still be a few months.”

  “You can’t stay at their place alone tonight.”

  “It’s better than going back to my old condo.” Mitzy tried the fake laugh again.

  Alonzo coughed. “Would you feel better if you stayed here?”

  “We’ve had this talk already,” she said.

  “Yeah. Okay. But I’d hate to take you back to their place tonight.” Alonzo scratched his head. “Can I take you to The Miramontes? You wouldn’t be alone at least.”

  Mitzy’s shaking knees went still. She felt her shoulders relax a fraction. “That is a very good idea,” she said. “I think you may just be my hero.” She leaned in and kissed his prickly cheek. She knew she should tell him about her phone call. He could solve her problem with Ben and Jenny if she’d let him. Her heart beat a little faster. She should just get it off her chest. The cell phone sitting on her bag let out a little low battery bleep. She looked at it and sighed. She couldn’t tell. Not until Jenny stopped hating her.

  But sleeping at the inn was a brilliant idea. “I’ll have plenty of company at the inn and if anything suspicious happens Carmella has to report it to the feds. It’s kind of like having a bodyguard.” She forced a lopsided grin.

  Alonzo frowned a little and shook his head, “It’s okay to be unhappy right now,” he said.

  She bit her bottom lip. “It’s better to try and be—”

  “No. It’s not better,” Alonzo said.

  Carmella, Mitzy’s future sister-in-law, greeted them from the reception desk when they arrived. They walked up the curved staircase together to a second floor bedroom. Mitzy dumped her suitcase on the bed and Alonzo sat in a wingback chair by the door. Carmella stood by the dresser, folding washcloths and setting them in their basket. Mitzy filled Carmella in on the murder.

  “But how did she get on your deck?” Carmella asked.

  “I don’t know. I hope I hear from Detective Backman soon so I can find out what is going on,” Mitzy said.

  “You and Backman still talking?” Carmella asked.

  “Honestly? No. I haven’t heard from her since the fall. But the case hasn’t been closed, has it? I mean, you still have to call her if anything fishy happens here at the inn?”

  “Yeah, but if our inn was any good as Mafia bait you wouldn’t want to stay here. You know as well as I do that we haven’t even had a whisper of intrigue since that guy from the city council threw you in his car. It’s been good business, sure. But no Mafia sightings.”

  “Why don’t you stay next door at Carmella’s place instead? You don’t need to be here.” Alonzo picked at his fingernails with his key.

  “They don’t need me in their little house. I am fine here. Carmella is right; it’s been dead, as far as crime goes. And the night staff will be here, the other guests will be here—I don’t have anything to worry about.” Mitzy lay back on the bed. She had everything to worry about but at least she wasn’t alone.

  “I’ll be here until almost midnight, anyway,” Carmella said. “I have a meeting with the night staff. And then I’ll be back at seven tomorrow. You won’t even know I left.”

  “That’s pretty good.” He looked at his sister and nodded. But his face remained tense. His jaw flexed and he narrowed his eyes. “The room next door empty?” Alonzo asked.

  Carmella smiled. “It is.”

  “Let me have it. I think Mitzy is crazy, sure. But if I’m wrong I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Relief swept over Mitzy. Staying at The Miramontes had sounded like a brilliant idea while they discussed it from the comfort of Alonzo’s living room, but this place had been the site of some of her scarier adventures, being held at knifepoint and tied up in the basement on two of the more horrifying occasions.

  “Would you really stay here too? We could pull out that little TV in the armoire and watch cable together and forget about the murder for a while. I’d really like that.”

  “I’ll book you in, Al,” Carmella said.

  Mitzy shook her head. “Never mind. You can stay at the inn too, but don’t come to my room.”

  “I can control myself for one evening,” Alonzo said with a small smile.

  “Maybe I can’t.” Mitzy rolled over on her side and looked at Alonzo. His legs were stretched out in front of him, his feet crossed at the ankles. He was broad and muscular and she really wanted him to hold her all night; she wanted him to keep the nightmares from coming back. “I know I can’t be trusted with you in my hotel room tonight.” She rolled back on to her back and stared at the ceiling. This wasn’t her wedding night. There’d be no sleepovers.

  Carmella laughed. “Such a goody-goody. I’ll pretend to believe he will stay in his own room.”

  “I’ll be next door. Might as well. I’ve been up since four this morning. I’m beat. But it’s only seven and I don’t intend to leave my woman until at least ten,” Alonzo said.

  “Then let’s go downstairs to the kitchen and have something to drink,” Mitzy said. “No reason to test all of the de
adly sins in one night.” She stood up and went to the door.

  As she exited she overheard Carmella whispering, “You had better marry her soon. She’ll never forgive you if you accidentally seduce her.”

  “Go back to work,” Alonzo said.

  According to his promise, Alonzo didn’t leave Mitzy until ten. Alone in her room she regretted every decision of her day. She should not have gone for the cleaning supplies. Then someone else would have found the body. She should have told Alonzo about how awful Ben had made her feel. She should have stayed at his house. She had never felt as alone as she did right now, in a hotel full of people.

  Every time she closed her eyes the crushed skull of the dead woman grew in the darkness and lifted off the concrete floor of the deck. The bloody curls wrapped themselves around her mind. She should have gone to the condo earlier. She should have been there to save the woman. Mitzy sat up in the dark, shaking. She pressed her palms over her eyes but the blood, and the head, and the curls grew more vivid.

  She peeled back her comforter and stepped onto the soft rug. Her bare toes wiggled in the pile. This was real. The dead woman was not. Her shoulders shuddered. But the woman was real. The murder was real.

  Mitzy shivered in her t-shirt and shorts, her legs prickled out in goosebumps. She crossed the floor with her hands out and groped for the doorknob. She couldn’t be alone for another moment. Alonzo was next door.

  A low light from dimmed sconces lit her way to Alonzo’s door. She knocked on it quietly and tried the knob. It wasn’t locked. Maybe he had been expecting her. She turned it and stepped into his room.

  With the door ajar behind her, she could see his sleeping form in his bed. She pulled the door shut.

  Her heart thundered in her chest as she moved to him. She flushed with expectation, her cheeks, and her hopes, burning. Her knees bumped the edge of his bed.

  She felt for his blanket and pulled it back. Alonzo didn’t wear a shirt to bed. She let her fingertips find his shoulder; he was warm. He didn’t stir at her touch. She slipped in the bed next to him, lying on her side. She wanted to drape her arm over his chest but didn’t dare.