Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 04 - Frozen Assets

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  Mitzy held up her hands, empty, and shrugged.

  Kjell and Ulrike were still locked in a silent chicken fight, neither of them turning away.

  “You all heard it, too. Where’s the phone?” Peter yanked a coat from the coat tree, but the tree came with it, and knocked him in the face. He pushed it off with a crash into Ulrike’s metal desk.

  Ulrike jumped to her feet. “Why did you do that?” She pushed the tree to the floor.

  “I did it because he would have killed you, too!” Kjell shouted.

  Mitzy dialed 911.

  “No—it wasn’t you!” Ulrike screamed at Kjell.

  “I-I—” Peter grabbed the coat tree and swung it around to stand it back up, but it hit Mitzy in the head.

  She wavered on her feet, her head ringing like a bell. Someone answered the phone.

  “911. Police, Ambulance, or Fire?”

  Mitzy grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from falling. “He hit me in the head…” She pressed her hand to her forehead.

  “She’s calling the police!” Ulrike threw herself across the desk and grabbed at Mitzy.

  Mitzy turned from Ulrike as her knees buckled, the room spinning, the floor rising to meet her. She landed on her bottom with a thud.

  “Is that ambulance, ma’am?” the operator asked.

  “I’m at 8200 Burnside. English Cottage office,” Mitzy slurred. “He confessed to murder.”

  “Police and ambulance will be right there. Stay on the line.” The rest of the operator’s words were a blur. Mitzy’s head rolled on her neck like a bowling ball as she tried to look at the coat tree that had hit her. It wasn’t that big, but it was metal.

  She leaned against the back of the metal desk, but found herself slipping sideways toward the ground. Ulrike appeared, dangling in front of her face, snatching for the phone. Mitzy watched her bob for it with her hand, not really comprehending what she was doing.

  “Stop it, Ulrike! She’s hurt. We need to help her up.” A deep male voice spoke, but Mitzy couldn’t place it.

  “She’s called the police.” Mitzy watched Ulrike’s perfect, heart-shaped lips as she spoke. Had she called the police? She thought she had, because of something.

  A handsome blond man knelt beside her and handed her a cup of water. “I did not mean to do that. I’m so sorry.”

  Mitzy took a sip and then held the cup to her head. “I hate to be a bother…” She let her words drift off. Someone opened the office door and a rush of cold air blew on her face. She heard sirens, like they were right outside.

  Three policemen came through the door, pushing Kjell back inside.

  Kjell. That was right. He was the one.

  A policeman with a gray beard knelt down next to her. She pointed up at Kjell. “He just said he did it.”

  “No, no,” Peter interrupted. “I did and it was an accident. See, I grabbed the coat.” He pulled the coat rack down to him again. “And somehow, it just kept falling and it hit her. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  The police officer stared at her eyes. “What day is today?”

  Mitzy shook her head. “Thursday? I think? December… nineteenth?”

  The officer nodded approval.

  “Ahh.” Mitzy put her hand back up to her head. “Kjell—that guy over there—killed Arnold English.” The room spun so she leaned her head back on the desk again. “He just told us he was the other man there that night.”

  “I didn’t say when I was there,” Kjell said.

  “Don’t.” The one word fell like a sob from Ulrike’s red lips.

  “You don’t want to say anything right now.” Peter’s voice was a warning.

  “I’ll say whatever I want!” Kjell crossed his arms and tilted his chin up. “I’m ashamed of nothing.”

  “Before you continue,” the bearded officer said, “you have the right to remain silent.”

  Mitzy liked the way it sounded just like on TV, but she didn’t like the way there were now two Kjells and six police officers. She turned to Ulrike, who seemed to have one and a half heads. She closed her eyes and lifted the phone. Maybe she should call an ambulance.

  But then the nice man in the white shirt with the badge on it was asking her to lie down, so she did that instead.

  18

  Mitzy sipped her glass of orange juice.

  Alonzo shook out his newspaper with a head-splitting crackle.

  Mitzy winced.

  “Sorry! How’s your head?” Alonzo looked her over, his brows drawn in concern.

  Mitzy put her fingers to the egg on her forehead and then reclined against the hospital bed. “Starting to feel better. I wish they’d give me something stronger for the pain, though.”

  “They will eventually. You’ve only been here an hour.”

  A white-coated doctor with dark stubble on his cheeks knocked on the door and then poked his head in. “How are you doin’?”

  “I hurt a bit.” Mitzy tried to smile, but it was weak.

  “I understand the city owes you a major thank you.”

  “Huh?” Mitzy pressed her fingertips to her head again.

  “The paramedic told me you were injured while confronting a murderer. That’s pretty awesome.” The doctor looked over the notes on his clipboard. “Before I can give you anything for the headache, I need to ask you a few medical questions, okay?”

  Mitzy gave the weak smile again. Nodding hurt too much.

  Alonzo answered the questions about her health history to save her the effort.

  “And do you have any reason to believe you might be pregnant?”

  Alonzo blushed. “I, er, Mitzy?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But you are sexually active?”

  “Of course!” Mitzy’s cheeks heated up a little, and she couldn’t make eye contact with Alonzo.

  “Okie-doke. We’ll just take a quick blood sample to rule out pregnancy before we give you anything. I’ll send a nurse in in a minute.” He tapped his clipboard with his pen a few times and left.

  Mitzy yawned. “I could go to sleep if my head didn’t hurt so bad.”

  “And never wake up? No, thank you!” Alonzo put the paper down. “What did the cops say when they arrested Kjell?”

  “The usual stuff. Right to remain silent and all of that.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “I’m not sure. I was a little distracted by the whole head injury thing.”

  “I wish you had brought me with you.”

  “So do I!” Mitzy squeezed her eyes shut. That last word sent a ping of pain straight through her skull.

  Alonzo squeezed her hand. “We’ll get home soon enough. They don’t keep you forever for a concussion.”

  The nurse came in and got the blood draw done with relative ease. The poke pain wasn’t much compared to Mitzy’s headache. “Are you sure I can’t nod off for a few minutes?”

  “Completely sure. It would be pretty cool if the blood test came back positive, wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe under normal circumstance, but I sure would like to take narcotics right now.”

  Alonzo chuckled. “So, what did Kjell do that made you think he was the killer? You have to stay awake, so you might as well tell me everything.”

  “I didn’t think it was him. I thought it was Peter. As soon as you told me there was another strapping Swedish brother in the picture and that he had a working relationship with Arnold, I was suspicious. But I wasn’t sure, you know. Especially after Livia explained how close her son had been to the family.”

  “But being close to the family could have given him even more of a motive. What made you drop him?”

  “Opportunity. I had a good chance to see Ulrike and drill her about Peter, so I took it. It might have turned into nothing, but it didn’t.”

  “Karina owes you big time.”

  “I guess.” She shook her head slowly. “But what really changes for Karina? She’s still saddled with an unsellable murder house and an ex-step-son who
is difficult, to say the least. I wish I could have done more.”

  “You are just her Realtor, Mitz. What exactly were you supposed to do?”

  She shrugged. “Technically, I’m there to sell her house, sure. But as a Christian, it doesn’t matter what my technical relationship with someone is, does it? I’m there to serve in any way I can.”

  “True. But I can’t think of anything else you could have done. Though getting her house sold does come to mind.”

  “Hand me my phone, will you?”

  Alonzo passed it over.

  Mitzy dialed Zachary. When he answered, she started right in. “I’m at the hospital right now. I’m being treated for a concussion I got catching the guy responsible for your father’s death.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I narrowed down the suspects, made a confrontation, got a confession, and the man has been arrested.”

  “This isn’t a crank call, is it?”

  “Absolutely not. And it won’t be a long call, either. They look down on cell use in hospitals, and my head is killing me.”

  “You have my attention.”

  “Good. Buy the house. Let Karina decide who does the paperwork. Don’t worry about the added expense. I already said I won’t take a cut.” She turned to Alonzo and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You owe me this, don’t you think? If you let go of your ego and your anger, you can do something that will make everyone happy.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Zachary’s voice sounded resigned.

  “Is that really the best you can do? You want this house to remember your happy childhood and your father. Just buy it.”

  Zachary was silent for a moment. “No commission to the Realtor?”

  “None.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Yes. I’ll fax an offer to the number you gave me.”

  “Great. Thank you. I am in kind of a lot of pain, but I will do my best to get it signed tomorrow.”

  “No, you won’t,” Alonzo barked.

  “Er, I’ll do my best to get it taken care of right away.”

  “I do want to raise my family in this house.” Zachary’s tone turned wistful.

  “And you get to. So, go celebrate with your lovely wife.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mitzy closed her eyes and laid back. It was almost impossible to stay awake, but Alonzo kept chatting, and even though she didn’t pay close attention, she didn’t fall asleep.

  About an hour later, the doctor knocked lightly on the door. “Good news, you can take whatever narcotic you need.”

  Mitzy sighed. It was good news. Kind of.

  “Bummer.” Alonzo squeezed her hand. “Not that I don’t want you to feel better.”

  Mitzy grinned. She wanted her headache to go away more than anything, but the idea of a pregnancy wasn’t so awful, either. “Maybe for New Year’s…”

  Alonzo lifted her hand and kissed it. “Why not?”

  ***

  Later that week, just a couple of days before Christmas, Mitzy and Karina met to put the house in order for the big move. The papers were signed, and Zachary and Deanna were going to move in as soon as they could.

  Mitzy fluffed the pillow on the sleigh bed in Karina’s master bedroom. She had never worked with Plain Jane’s Good Clean Houses before, so she wanted to keep an eye on the maid that Karina had hired. She seemed like a nice person, but you never knew. The movers were coming in the morning, and so it was already a highly charged, emotional day. Mitzy didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

  The maid—a girl in her twenties named Jane—smiled over her shoulder at Mitzy as she dragged the vacuum across the bedroom rug.

  Mitzy stepped aside, but the vacuum cord wrapped itself around one of her puffy pink Uggs. She tried to step out of the cord but ended up getting both feet wrapped. Jane wasn’t watching, and gave the cord a yank that pulled Mitzy onto the bed. “Hello?” Mitzy waved her hands with a laugh. “Earth to Jane!”

  Jane glanced at Mitzy flailing on the big bed. She turned brilliant pink. “Oh!” She grabbed the cord and flicked her wrist a few times. It seemed like nothing, but it did the trick and freed Mitzy.

  Jane wrapped the cord around the vacuum handle. “I’ll, uh, just go put the laundry in the dryer.” She smiled but stumbled over her words, her eyebrows slightly lifted, as though she were nervous around Mitzy.

  Mitzy was tempted to scowl or make some bossy, intimidating gesture. Jane was a good kid, but she made Mitzy feel old and big. She folded her arms across her chest, remembering how her brother used to compare her ‘wingspan’ with Michael Jordan’s.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Mitzy called.

  “I don’t think so,” Jane hollered from the room next door.

  Mitzy pulled the bedspread straight. She ran her fingers across the top of the now-empty dresser, checking for dust. It was clean. Jane wasn’t too bad at her job.

  Mitzy wandered over to the laundry room. Putting the laundry upstairs was a brilliant move on Arnold’s part. Sure, it was a pretty standard McMansion feature, but Arnold had done it thirty years before his peers.

  This house had been Arnold’s love nest for his trophy wife. Every inch of it had been carefully planned. Mitzy traced the lines of the wood door trim. He knew this home inside and out. He must have had a good reason to be on the balcony that fateful night, but what was it?

  Learning who he had been with hadn’t solved anything, as far as Mitzy was concerned. Seeing Kjell locked up on a manslaughter charge didn’t help her understand what had happened in the least.

  The dryer rumbled into life, sounding every bit as old as it looked. Deanna English could have fun redesigning the outdated house if she wanted to.

  Jane hefted a laundry basket from the floor. “Excuse me.” She had an efficient, nose-to-the-grindstone way about her, but she looked like she could use a hot meal.

  “So… have you been doing this long?” Mitzy followed Jane back into the bedroom and began folding clothes with her. Maybe she could help this Jane girl get more work.

  “Almost two years.” Jane pressed her lips together like she was thinking. “I started school this year, at Harvest School of the Bible. Do you know it?”

  “No.” Mitzy started a stack of kitchen towels. “Is that in Portland?”

  “It’s outside of town.” Jane added to the stack. “I’ll graduate in another year and a half.” Jane dimpled into a pretty smile. Maybe it was just house cleaning that made Jane seem mousey.

  “Then what?” Mitzy asked.

  “I’m going to be a missionary.” Her eyes took on a dreamy far-away look. “I can’t wait.” She pulled a sheet out of the basket and waved it to straighten it out. “I would do anything to get overseas.”

  “Where do you want to go?” Mitzy felt a little twinge of envy. She had wanted to be a missionary when she was a kid, but that was before she had discovered real estate.

  “Somewhere unreached, you know? Somewhere where the gospel is still really new.” Jane sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

  Mitzy frowned. “It smells like smoke.”

  Jane trailed the sheet after her as they followed the smell out the door. A thin gray sliver of smoke curled from under the laundry room door.

  “Run downstairs,” Mitzy said. “Grab Karina and get out, okay?”

  “Is anyone else here?” Jane glanced around the hall.

  “No, it’s just the three of us. Get outside with Karina. I’m going to see if I can put it out before it spreads.” Mitzy pulled open the door with a trembling hand.

  Jane followed her into the laundry room.

  The smoke was coming from behind the dryer.

  Mitzy smacked the dial on the dryer to turn it off. The room was filling with smoke pretty fast. She pressed her hand over her mouth, and dug through the cupboards looking for a fire extinguisher.

  Jane ducked under Mitzy and shove
d the sheet she was holding into the utility sink. She soaked it with cold water.

  Mitzy’s heart pounded against her ribs. She pulled the dryer away from the wall and revealed the hot, red flames that licked the corrugated silver dryer hose. Jane leaned over the dryer and threw the wet sheet on top of the flames.

  “Thanks—but go!” Mitzy pushed Jane toward the door.

  Jane pulled the door shut behind her. A small fire extinguisher was hanging from the back of it.

  Mitzy wrapped her hands around the cold metal canister.

  The wet sheet had smothered the flames inside the house, but black smoke was still seeping from under the sheet. She wanted to put the fire out from the other side of the dryer vent, if she could. A rush of adrenaline pumped through her. She could handle a little fire like this.

  She ran back to the bedroom and let herself onto the Juliet balcony from where Arnold had been pulled to his death.

  Just to the left of the iron railing, smoke trickled out from behind a tall, thin cypress tree that brushed the half-timbered siding.

  Mitzy leaned over the rail. Just the toes of her Uggs touched the balcony floor. She ignored the dizziness that swept over her and pulled the branches away from the wall.

  Smoke poured out of the dryer vent that had been hidden from her view before. She aimed the extinguisher into the smoke and pulled the trigger.

  Foam covered the plastic vent screen, but didn’t seem to get inside. Mitzy leaned closer. Her huge belt buckle hooked on the rail as she balanced on her stomach, letting her feet come off the floor. She scratched at the foam-covered screen until it popped off the wall and fell to the ground. She took a deep breath and pulled the trigger again, spraying straight into the vent until the miniature home fire extinguisher fizzled out.

  She looked from the wall to the sliding glass door and down again to the wrought iron fence that had “caught” Arnold. She was tempted to jump from the balcony, but the fire had been small, and the idea of Arnold skewered on the fence was still as clear as a bell.

  She let herself back in, but before she ran downstairs, she checked the laundry room.

  The fire was out.