Foreclosed: A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery (A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery, a Cozy Christian Collection)

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “Can we get away with five bedrooms and shared bathrooms?” Alonzo asked.

  “Sure. The McMennimins hotels do it,” Mitzy said.

  “McMennimins hotels are destinations. We won’t have a movie theater, a micro-brewery, or golfing,” Carmella said.

  “True,” Alonzo said. “But I think we could get the permits. I’d rather have a handful of rooms to rent than a conference room that was always empty.”

  “Me too, I think we could do it. It would be so much cheaper. All we have to do is put in the bathrooms, new flooring, and paint. I’ll draw up the plans and estimates,” Mitzy said.

  “So we’re just going to do your plan then?” Carmella said.

  “Yes,” Alonzo replied turning to go down the stairs.

  “I’m sorry,” Mitzy said.

  Carmella’s shoulders drooped for just a moment. She pulled them back up though and glared at her brother’s retreating figure.

  “We just can’t afford your idea, even though it is awesome.” Mitzy paused and looked at Carmella. Carmella turned away, crossing her arms on her chest. With a shrug, Mitzy started her trek down the flights of stairs to the main floor.

  Alonzo was arguing in the foyer with two well dressed men. Through the front windows Mitzy saw two black Lincolns with tinted windows. And a police car.

  “What’s going on here?” Mitzy rushed down the last few steps and interjected herself into the argument.

  “I’ve got it, Mitzy,” Alonzo said. He stood with his feet apart and his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Until you show us a court order you’re not taking anything from this property.”

  A tall, thin, man with wire rim glasses and sparse blond hair peered around the foyer before he spoke. “I don’t think you realize the seriousness of the situation. I don’t think you realize who you are working with here.”

  “I realize,” Alonzo said, dropping his voice an octave and speaking slowly like to a child, “that you are attempting to seize our property without the legal authority. I realize that I am going to escort you off of our property now.”

  Mitzy had moved to the front door, keeping the heels of her boots quiet on the wood floor, while the strangers had their stand off with Alonzo. She opened the door and a gust of fall scented wind blew into the room. “After you,” she said with a false smile, gritting her teeth.

  No one moved.

  The thin man stepped towards Alonzo. “I can see you’ve never worked with the FBI before.”

  A local policeman stepped in through the front door. He stalked into the room, leading with his forehead and stood between the shorter, dark haired FBI man and the thin, reedy one. He glared around the room, turning to take everyone in. When he saw Mitzy his face burst into a grin and he puffed out his chest. “You’re Mitzy Neuhaus!” he said, his voice rising like a choir boy. “I saw you on TV this morning.”

  Mitzy turned on her hundred watt smile and joined the officer in the middle of the room. “Hey there,” she said fluttering her eyelashes and pursing her pink lips. Alonzo frowned.

  The thin blond agent frowned as well.

  “Is this THE Victorian?” the cop asked. “The one you found the missing jewels in?”

  “It sure is,” Mitzy said.

  “Such a bummer that you had to turn them all over to the authorities. You bought ’em, you should get to keep ’em.” The cop shook his head and looked around the house again, eyes wide with admiration.

  “You have to come back and visit us once we’ve opened the inn,” Mitzy said. “It’s going to be gorgeous.”

  “Will do,” the cop said with a nod. “You done in here?” the cop asked the FBI agents in his deep, policeman voice.

  “No, we are not done here,” the thin one said biting off the ends of his words.

  “These guys have work to do,” the cop said. “I suggest you finish up and move on. I have work to do too.”

  The thin man sucked in a breath that flared out his nostrils. “I am here for the items on this list. As you learned when you turned in the Romanov jewelry collection, you do not have a choice. As you can see I’ve brought the local law to enforce the order, though if you knew anything at all, I didn’t have to bring them.” He glared at the officer who was still chatting up Mitzy.

  “Come back with a warrant and take whatever the judge says you can take.” Alonzo walked forward, forcing the two men in suits to retreat to the open door. The cop followed them out.

  “You don’t realize what it means to frustrate the FBI, do you?” the thin agent said.

  “I am so sorry you are feeling frustrated,” Mitzy said. “But that has nothing to do with us. We have a building to renovate.”

  The agents hesitated in the gravel drive. Their cars stood waiting for them. The beefy one spoke for the first time. “We’ll be back,” he said and then opened the door of his black Lincoln.

  The tall thin agent’s shoulders slumped at his partner’s ridiculous comment. Collins hated working with new agents. The agents slammed the doors to their cars shut, and kicked up the gravel with their wheels as they drove off of the property.

  Mitzy turned away from the exiting cars and looked at Alonzo with fear in her wide, blue eyes. “Those guys were the FBI? What on earth did they want?”

  “They want everything in the house that is not nailed down,” Alonzo said.

  A small green Prius squealed into the driveway. A middle-aged man with spiky hair and thick black glasses popped out. “Hey, guys,” he said with a big toothy grin.

  Alonzo looked at the man once, turned and went back into the house.

  “I’m Geo from the city council,” the man said. “Let’s talk about your property.” He walked over to Mitzy and offered to shake her hand.

  Mitzy put a business card in his hand. “Call my assistant and make an appointment,” she said. She turned on her boot heel and followed Alonzo into the house.

  Eminent Domain at Amazon.com!

  Traci Tyne Hilton is the author of The Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery Series, The Plain Jane Mystery Series and one of the authors in The Tangle Saga series of science fiction novellas. She was the Mystery/Suspense Category winner for the 2012 Christian Writers of the West Phoenix Rattler Contest, a finalist for Speculative Fiction in the same contest, and has a Drammy from the Portland Civic Theatre Guild. Traci serves as the Vice President of the Portland chapter of the American Christian Fiction Writers Association.

  Traci earned a degree in History from Portland State University and still lives in the rainiest part of the Pacific Northwest with her husband the mandolin playing funeral director, their two daughters, and their dog, Dr. Watson.

  Find more of Traci Tyne Hilton’s work at tracihilton.com

  Or connect with her at tracityne@hotmail.com or on Facebook!