“Do you think they left their cat here after they moved out?”
Mitzy shuddered. “Oh, I hope not! How horrible would that be?” She opened the door to the first bedroom. A cold blast of air hit them. The window was wide open. The carpet under the window was black with mildew.
“How long has this place been empty?” Dirk asked.
“Since September.” Mitzy sighed. That mildew was a terrible sign. The carpet, subfloor, and sheet rock would all need to be replaced.
“That’s a lot of rain and snow,” Dirk muttered. He prodded the mildewing patch of carpet with the toe of his boot. His foot dipped. The subfloor was clearly toast.
“It is a big room.” Bonnie said, eyebrows raised in hope
“It’s not the master, is it?” Dirk asked.
“No, so you wouldn’t have to move into this room until you had it all fixed.”
“So, that’s not too bad, then.” Bonnie’s smile was bright still, but her eyes were looking a little worried.
“If I were you, I’d rip out everything that was damaged before you moved in and then rebuild the room when you had the time and money.” Mitzy bit her lip. She was beginning to doubt that this house was right for this couple. They wanted a house for the New Year, she could tell. They hadn’t said it specifically, but it fit what she had seen of their type before. Young and enthusiastic, they had money and brains and knew that they could get a screaming deal in the dead of winter.
“The master is this way.” Mitzy opened the door for them. She gagged on the earthy stink that rose out of the master bedroom.
“Oh!” Bonnie put her hand over her mouth.
Mitzy held her hand to her mouth and turned away. It smelled like a port-a-potty on a hot day.
Dirk stepped through the doorway. “What happened here?”
The carpets were muddied and garbage sacks, plastic, paper, whatever, were piled against the four falls. The walls were grimy to about shoulder height. The closet doors were off of their hinges, and propped against one wall like a lean-to.
“It looks like someone’s camping here.” Bonnie chewed on her bottom lip.
Mitzy closed her eyes, afraid of what they would see next, because she agreed. It looked exactly like someone—more than one someone—was camping out in the house.
Dirk stepped into the master bathroom. “Don’t come in here, Bonnie.” His young voice was commanding, and Bonnie froze.
Mitzy joined Dirk at the doorway. The toilet, floor, shower stall, even the sink, were full of human waste. The water had been off in the house for ages, but that hadn’t stopped someone from using the room as their toilet.
Bile rose in her throat again. She had to get outside. She ran out of the bathroom, grabbing Bonnie by the elbow as she passed her. “You do not want to go in there.” Mitzy didn’t stop until she reached the sidewalk, in the icy but fresh December air. Dirk was about a half a second behind them.
“I’m so sorry about that. I had no idea there were squatters in the house. Please forgive me,” Mitzy said.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Bonnie tilted her head in concern. “Are you going to be okay?”
Mitzy took a deep breath. “Yes, but if you will give me just a moment, I need to call the police. They’ve got to get those people out of there. Squatters are one of the worst parts of this housing crisis.”
Dirk worked his jaw back and forth, his eyes narrow slits.
Mitzy reported the situation to the police while Dirk and Bonnie stood a few feet away discussing the relative merits of the house.
When they paused, Mitzy joined them again. “The police said we should go, and I agree. I don’t want to be here when the squatters get back. Again, I am so sorry about this house. I can only imagine that it is off the list now.”
Bonnie looked over her shoulder at the white painted front door. “Maybe, but we’re not sure. We were just talking about how we could put our bed in the office downstairs and gut the entire upper floor.”
“But …” Mitzy shook her head. There were mountains of poop in the bathroom. How could they see past that?
Bonnie looked at the front door again. “It’s a really big house for the price, but with this squatters thing… we thought maybe the bank could knock a little bit more off.”
Mitzy stepped forward and looked through the front window. The house was already less than half of the comp value, but this couple had a point. The bank might just give the thing away considering the smell and destruction the squatters had caused. Since it had been empty for so long and they were the first ones to see it was… occupied… the house didn’t seem to have been getting much interest from other buyers. “Are you sure you’re still interested?”
Dirk cleared his throat. “I’m not entirely sold, but it isn’t because of that bathroom.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes.
“What are you thinking?” Mitzy looked at each of her clients in turn.
Dirk stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyebrows drawn, and his mouth a firm line. Whatever he wanted, he was having difficulty convincing Bonnie.
Bonnie was looking across the street at a home almost identical to the one they were at. Its dormers and porch twinkled with icicle lights. “He wants to see a really small house.”
“How small?” Mitzy asked.
“I’d like us to consider a tiny house.”
Mitzy almost laughed. Dirk was so broad, he could fill one of the ninety-square-foot “tiny houses” all by himself.
“This one is as far from a tiny house as you can get.” Mitzy looked from one end of the three-thousand-square-foot traditional style suburban home to the other. “And now you want to see something that you could tow with a bike?”
Dirk exhaled loudly. “Not one of those trailer things where you have to use a bucket for a bathroom. I mean one of those right near the light rail. The English Country house things.”
“The English Cottages?”
“Yeah, those.”
“Those are a little bit bigger than the other ones, but not much. Bonnie, how interested are you?”
“Oh, I guess I’m interested.”
“You used to really want one,” Dirk said.
“I know, but it costs more than this one does, and we could live our whole lives in this house.”
Mitzy’s internal alarm went off. Dirk wanted a house for the Now and Bonnie wanted a house for Forever. This couple wasn’t nearly as ready to buy as she had thought they were.
“Why don’t I take you to tour the English Cottages? They aren’t too far from here, and the model home is always open.”
“Fine.” Bonnie stomped down the porch steps. If Mitzy had to guess, this couple had at least one more year or apartment living ahead of them.
The English Cottage development looked gloomy. Mitzy and the young couple both had to park their cars on the street, more than a block away, in a regular neighborhood, as the development fronted the light rail and had no alley access. Where a traditional row house development might have had a parking lot for guests and residents, this development had a covered bike shed with a long, half-empty row of locked bike cages.
Mitzy stamped her feet to shake the dirty gray snow off before she stepped into the model cottage. The house was a four-hundred-square-foot open floor plan. The only parts that resembled a traditional room were the bathroom, which was closed off with a frosted plastic pocket door, and the loft that functioned as a bedroom, though it wasn’t tall enough to stand in. Mitzy stood back and let Bonnie look around. Dirk immersed himself in the company pamphlet.
“It’s just so small.” Bonnie lifted the stainless cutting board off of the counter to reveal a hidden sink. “They made room for a big TV on the wall, but the sink would hardly fit a coffee cup. And look, only one burner on the stove.”
“It is a lot more like the Tiny House Company designs than I had expected.” Mitzy ran a finger along the plastic of the bathroom door. It buckled when she put pressure on it.
“But how much does it cost, again?” Bonnie asked.
Mitzy shivered. She hadn’t figured out how the small house was heated, but with three bodies shoved in four hundred square feet, she-half expected they could have warmed it up.
“This model is $199,000, but if we don’t get all of the upgrades, it could be less.”
“Upgrades? What are the upgrades?” Bonnie turned 360 degrees, trying to figure out what in this small place was considered an upgrade.
“This model has a dishwasher drawer, a built in microwave, and it has a shed attached to the back.” Dirk grinned ear to ear.
“That’s quite a bit less than what they started out at.” Mitzy rapped on the wall. It sounded solid. “If I owned one already, I’d be pretty mad that they were selling the upgraded units for that little.” In complete honesty, she would never have called $500 a square foot “little” money, but the company had dropped the price from $270,000 when they first opened. It was another sign of Arnold’s serious financial difficulties. “There may be a long wait to get one of these,” Mitzy said. “The owner of the company passed away unexpectedly. I don’t know how that will effect getting the units sold.”
“He died?” Bonnie asked. “It’s like every house we want has been cursed.” She shuddered.
“You’d think this was Halloween, not Christmas.”
Mitzy stepped outside. Bonnie and Dirk followed. “So, guys, it feels a little bit like you don’t really know what you want yet. You all ought to go home and have a long, serious talk about your future. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m pretty sure neither of these houses are, either. Just give me a call when you are ready.”
“I thought we were ready now.” Bonnie gave Dirk a look like a sad puppy.
“So did I, until you saw that big house online.”
“Mitzy sent me the link.”
“It was in your price range, and such a great bang for the buck.” Mitzy chewed on her cheek. Bonnie had mentioned they’d look at big houses if the price was right. “I’m sorry if it threw a wrench in the works.”
“It’s not like we told you we were only interested in the tiny houses,” Bonnie said. “I guess I was until we started looking. It would just be so nice to not feel like we had to move right away again.” Bonnie’s attitude towards the tiny house seemed to be softening.
“If you want more info on these cottages, I will get it for you.” Mitzy wouldn’t be sorry to head up to the office and see what she could learn about Arnold English’s old business. It might help Karina as well as Bonnie and Dirk.
“I would love that,” Dirk said. “Can you call us as soon as you know where the company stands with selling the units? I think we can have a better idea of what we want in a day or two.” He caught Bonnie’s eye and smiled, one eyebrow quirked expectantly. Bonnie blushed and looked away. They didn’t agree, but they seemed to want to agree, which was a good place to start.
“Okay. We’ll stop looking for today. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know more about English Cottages.” As soon as Mitzy finished talking, a tall, blonde woman with full red lips, and huge blue eyes stepped onto the tiny porch.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. I saw you come, but was on the phone.” Her voice sounded vaguely British. She had the clear, pale skin and piercing eyes of a Scandinavian beauty queen. “I’m Ulrike Lingren. Can I answer any questions for you about the Cottages?” Ulrike’s eyes were bloodshot, the only mar to her untouchable beauty.
“We were just leaving.” Mitzy wanted to ask Ulrike a million questions, but not in front of her clients.
Dirk and Bonnie stepped off the front porch. “We’ll talk soon, Mitzy?” Bonnie asked.
“Definitely.”
Mitzy and Ulrike were alone.
“I can answer questions for you, perhaps?” Ulrike said.
“I would be very grateful if you did.” Mitzy smiled.
5
Ulrike took Mitzy to her office down by the bike shed.
“I am very sorry to hear about the loss of your boss.” Mitzy kept a close eye on Ulrike as she took her seat.
“It is very tragic.” Ulrike pulled a flier out of a wall organizer and handed it to Mitzy.
“How will his death affect the business? If my clients decide they want to buy, will they be able to?”
“Of course. We are all terribly sad, terribly sad, but we want to be able to continue serving the community.”
From the look of things, fewer than half of the homes had sold. Portland didn’t seem to care if English Cottages could keep “serving” them.
“That’s good news.” Mitzy wanted to transition to Ulrike’s personal life with Arnold, but she didn’t want to seem too obvious. “I’m sure my clients will be glad to hear it.” She looked around the office. There were dozens of pictures of the small houses in the spring, but nothing personal, no pictures of Ulrike and Arnold together, no pictures of any family or friends.
“How is Karina?” Ulrike asked.
Mitzy’s mouth popped open.
“You are selling her house, are you not?” Ulrike’s eyes were wide and innocent.
“Yes, I am. She is not doing well at all.”
“I am very sorry for her. I know she didn’t kill Arnold. How could she have?” Ulrike looked down at her fingernails. “I think she would have killed me before Arnold.”
“Do you know why Arnold was at Karina’s home that night?”
Ulrike looked up again, her eyes filled with tears. “He was at home all evening, like usual, but he left sometime while I was asleep, and then he just never came home again.” Tears rolled down her pale cheeks.
Mitzy felt bad for her, just a girl really, in a country very far from home. “Do you need anything, Ulrike? Can I help you at all? This can’t be easy for you.”
Ulrike shook her head. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “No, I don’t need anything.”
Arnold English had left behind three grieving widows, in a way—a fact that made Mitzy feel sick to her stomach. “Thank you for your time. I’ll get back to you if my clients are interested.”
Ulrike stood as well. “Thank you.”
Ulrike’s manners were impeccable, Mitzy thought, as she drove away. She appeared professional, but sad at the same time. Could the stunning young woman have summoned up the passion to push Arnold to his death? And if she had, would she have gained anything from it?
***
“We just haven’t talked about it yet.” Mitzy sat at her kitchen table, trolling through the Internet for comps on home sales with recent murders. The homey aroma of onions and garlic coming from the spaghetti in the slow-cooker was making her hungry. It was several hours until dinner still, but the afternoon sun was almost gone. “I promise I’ll tell you our Christmas plans as soon as I know them.”
“Your grandmother is expecting us this year.” Susan, Mitzy’s mother, sounded irritated.
“I know that, Mom. As soon as I talk to Alonzo, I will let you know.”
“You went to his family for Christmas last year.”
“It’s not exactly like that, Mom. We were completely beat from our… trouble… last winter. We were home on Christmas day. We just happened to go have dinner with his mom because it was easier than cooking for ourselves. And we had presents for his nephew.” Mitzy clicked the link to an article from 2005. The deaths in the home were caused by a fire, but if Arnold’s death appeared to be more of an accident than a murder, the story could be applicable.
“It doesn’t matter how you ended up there. You should come with us this year.”
“You’ll have Aerin and Brett again, won’t you?”
“Again? Last year they were with Aerin’s family in Cabo. This year we are all going down to the farm to be with your eighty-year
-old Grandmother. You should be there.”
“What can I say? I promised I’d talk to him about it and get back to you. I can’t just tell him ‘this is what we are doing’ and demand he agree with it.”
“I don’t know why not. That’s how Aerin treats Brett.”
“I’m not Aerin.”
“Well, we have that at least.”
“Indeed. Listen, Mom, can I call you back? I’m trying to wrap my mind around a new marketing plan for a house.”
“Is that code for you are trying to solve the English murder?” Susan’s voice had the teacher tone to it, as though Mitzy were one of Susan’s many students who had gotten caught with a cell phone at school.
“It’s not code. I really do need to figure out how to sell that one now that it’s been in the news.” The other open tab on Mitzy’s lap top screen was a website about the murder investigation process, but her mom didn’t need to know that. She just wanted to know where Karina stood at the moment, as she hadn’t heard from her recently. She didn’t know if Karina had been let go on bail or was still waiting for her time before the judge. She just didn’t know how those things worked. It wasn’t exactly the same thing as trying to solve the murder. Mitzy laid her hand over the piece of scratch paper next to her keyboard. It was covered in notes on potential motives for each of Arnold’s recent lady friends.
“Fine, I’ll let you go, but please try to remember what your business in all of this is. You need to sell her house, nothing more.”
“You sound like you’ve been talking to Alonzo.” Mitzy sighed. He still hadn’t come around to her idea of helping Karina.
“He’s a reasonable man, then. Don’t forget to discuss Christmas with him. It will be here before you know it.”
“Yes, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The call ended. Mitzy looked out the window to the softly falling snow. It was the second year in a row that it had snowed like she remembered from her childhood. None of the persistent, soul-drowning rain of the usual Portland winter. She liked watching the bright snow, but the constant fear of icy roads made her edgy. If she could manage, she’d work from home until it started raining again.
Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 04 - Frozen Assets Page 4
