Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse (8 page)

“Ben. Yeah, this is Alonzo. Listen, I didn’t want Mitzy to get you in trouble with your woman, but we gotta know what happened at the office today.” Alonzo kept shuffling the pieces of the platter while he listened to Ben. Then he spoke again, “Last night then? No. Okay. Thanks man. No. I believe you. But someone was in here. Yeah. I guess I’ll have to ask. Okay.” He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket again. “Ben hasn’t been here since you showed him the server you bought.”

Mitzy dropped the shard of ceramic she had been holding.
“Then who?”

“Does Sabrina still have a key? Does Joan?”

Mitzy shook her head. Alonzo’s face froze in a look of serious worry. Once more he left Mitzy in the smaller room. He walked the perimeter of her office checking the front window and the door.

Mitzy’s heart jumped to her throat.
The keys.
The locksmith hadn’t been here yet to change the locks.

“Alonzo, one more thing…my keys are missing.” Mitzy reached for his hand.

Alonzo gripped her hand in his and looked her in the eyes, “What do you mean missing?”

“It’s bad.” Mitzy worked his grip loose and laced her fingers through his. “Tina said she thinks that Lara lifted my keys at the open house. That’s how she got into my condo. But Alonzo, the keys weren’t on her when the cops searched her pockets.”

Alonzo exhaled.

Mitzy broke eye contact, and turned to the table. “Why would someone break my platter?”

“To intimidate you.
Who have you talked to about the murder?”

“Just the guys at Neveah’s, Alice the designer, and Hector.”

Alonzo sucked in his breath. “Call the cops. We need to report this and we need to report that message on your mom’s answering machine.

They went to Mitzy’s parents’ house so they would have the message to play for the police.

Mitzy hated making the call. She and Alonzo were almost certain it was important and dangerous. But she didn’t want to look foolish. She wanted to have a stronger case for her theory before she called. But Alonzo thought it was enough, so she didn’t argue. She had the direct number for Detective McConnell, who was in charge of Lara’s case. He answered right away.

“Mitzy,” he said, “I’ve been asking around and I’ve heard that it is a good idea to take you seriously.”

Mitzy was taken aback by that. It threw her off of her preplanned report, “Well! I—Good!” she fumbled for her words. She had a lot of things to say for herself that didn’t need to be said now.

“What do you know?” he asked.

“You’re aware that Lara and I look a lot alike, right?”

“Yes. We’re aware of that.”

“Okay. Well I have wondered…”

“If you were the intended victim?
I think you mentioned that once or twice.”

“Okay, sorry. I’m not trying to waste your time. It’s just I’ve been talking to some people, trying to figure out who Lara was. If I could learn of one really good reason for someone to kill her I might not be so worried that the Mafia was still actively interested in me.”

“Yes?” the cop said. Mitzy thought she detected more than a hint of boredom in his voice.

“I’ve been house sitting for my parents and no one really knows I’m here, but I got this message on my answering machine today,” She hit play, skipped the first message and made sure the volume was up. Alonzo squeezed her shoulder.

The message didn’t play.

“I’m sorry, Mitzy? I didn’t catch that. There was a message on your answering machine?”

Mitzy stared at the machine. Alonzo took the phone from her, “This is Alonzo Miramontes. Let me explain. Mitzy came to the house today at
11:40
. There was a message on the phone. The machine said the call came in at
11:30
. It said, ‘you’re not wrong.’ Mitzy called me immediately and played it for me. Now it’s been deleted. I think someone has been in her home. I think the murderer is sending her a message.”

“Okay. I took the note. Sorry the message was gone. Just a couple of questions, she said it was her parents’ house. Could they have deleted the message?”

“No. She’s house sitting while they are out of town.”

“They couldn’t do it remotely?”

Alonzo repeated the question to Mitzy. She shook her head no.

“No, it’s an old answering machine.”

“And you two are the only ones who heard it?”

“Yes.”

“Have either of you touched the machine since the message was deleted?”

“Yes, we both have.”

“Alright.
Well. I’ve been given strict instructions to take Mitzy seriously, but I don’t know what to do about this one. The message is gone and your fingers have been all over the buttons. I’ve made a note. Call if it happens again.”

“Yes sir. There’s one more thing,” Alonzo said.

“I’m ready.”

Alonzo explained the story of the missing keys and the broken platter. The phone was silent for a moment.

“We’ll send someone over to dust for fingerprints,” The cop said, “Keep in touch. We want to know if anything else like this comes up.”

Alonzo ended the call and put his hand on Mitzy’s lower back. “They don’t think you are crazy, at least.”

“They don’t, but they could be wrong.” Mitzy offered a wry grin.

“Let’s finally feed those cats and get out of here.”

“That’s a good idea.” In addition to catnip and new toys Mitzy had brought an auto feeder. She filled it up and set a huge sheet cake tray of water out for them.

“Anything else?”
Alonzo asked.

Mitzy shook her head. “No, they use that little cat door to get outside instead of a litter box. I think this will do them for the rest of the week.

“Poor cats,” Alonzo said, “Should I just take them home with me?”

“They’re fine. Let’s get out of here.”

Mitzy recycled all of the packaging and gave the cats one last quick snuggle. She and Alonzo piled into the car. Mitzy watched the house in her mirror as she drove away. An upstairs light switched on.

“Alonzo!” she cried.

He slammed on the brakes “What?!”

“That light!” she said, “I just saw it turn on.”

Alonzo craned his neck to see behind him. “No, I left that on in the bathroom, for the cats.”

“Then someone turned it off and then turned it back on. I just saw it.” Mitzy said, her voice rising. “The cops have been instructed to take me seriously. You should too.”

Alonzo turned the car around and pulled in to the driveway.
“Fine.
I’m turning around, but you are sticking close to me.”

They let themselves back into the house and went straight upstairs. Puddytat, the black cat, was sitting on the bathroom counter. His tail switched back and forth. He hopped down from the counter, purring, and rubbed his back on Mitzy’s legs. She watched him do a turn around the bathroom floor and then jump back on the counter. When he landed, he brushed up against the wall and switched the light off.

“It was the cat,” Alonzo said.

Mitzy sucked in a breath, “Puddytat turned it off, but could he turn it back on?”

“Should we sit here and watch?” Alonzo asked.

Mitzy pushed the cat off of the counter. “Let’s see if he turns it on when he gets back up.” But the cat walked out of the bathroom. Alonzo started moving things around on the bathroom counter. “I think it looks fine, Mitzy.” He picked up a hand towel and hung it back up. He picked something else up and turned it in his hand a few times before tossing it in the trash. “What was that?” Mitzy asked, looking into the garbage.

“I don’t know. Soap dish?”

Mitzy leaned over and looked in the trash basket. A piece of misty blue ceramic sat alone in the empty bin. “That’s no soap dish.”

Alonzo looked again.

“Shoot. How long has that been in here?”

“Who can tell?”

“I suggest we leave now. The light may or may not have been turned on by the cat, but you’re right. That’s no soap dish.”

Mitzy used a paper towel to collect the shard and put it in her pocket. She had a feeling she’d
be needing
it as evidence.

Alonzo brought Mitzy straight back to the inn. He took her into Carmella’s office behind the front desk. Carmella gave Mitzy a coffee and made her sit in the big desk chair.

“I don’t think this was truly necessary,” Mitzy said.

“First a threatening message then an office break in? What about ‘you’re in danger’ don’t you get?”

“I just mean that we didn’t have to rush straight here.”

“What did you want to do? Go see a movie?”

“Well no, of course not. It’s just…I don’t know. I don’t really want another early night.”

“And I don’t want you to get your head smashed in.” Alonzo turned away from Mitzy and addressed his sister. “Carmella, you gotta take Mitzy home with you tonight.”

“What do you mean I gotta take Mitzy home with me? She’s staying here at the hotel. She’s safe. Surely you’re about ready to go home to your mom’s, aren’t you?”

Mitzy shook her head. She wanted to throttle Alonzo for walking into the inn and demanding that Carmella take her home. She was an owner of the inn and she was also Carmella’s landlord. She did not need Alonzo telling her where to sleep at night.

“Al, I’m fine. I don’t need to get in their way.”

“You won’t be in the way,” Alonzo said. “I don’t want you sleeping here by yourself.”

“She’d hardly be by herself. The night staff is here and the hotel is almost booked completely full.”

“Carmella, her office was vandalized and someone left threatening messages on the answering machine at her parents’ house. I want her at your house tonight with Diego there. It’s much safer than being here with this place full of strangers.”

“I will be fine here. There is no reason at all that I need to sleep next door. Carmella, don’t stress. I’ll stay here.”

“You could come. I’d hardly kick you out of your own house. But it’s a small place.”

“I know. You guys were really awesome to move there so you could be closer to the inn. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Your house is so much bigger.”

“Yeah, but it’s got a renter in it so we’re good. I don’t mind having the smaller place to take care of now that I’ve got the inn to run. Diego Jr. can just use the yard here. This property is bigger than ours. But really, wouldn’t you be more comfortable here at the inn?”

“I would. Thank you for understanding.”

“You girls are impossible. This isn’t about being comfortable, it’s about being alive.” Alonzo shoved the chair in front of him into the counter top. It skidded on the kitchen floor and stopped with a thud. “Did you hear a word I said Carmella?
Vandals and threats.
She can’t stay here alone.”

“Quiet your voice down!” Carmella shouted at her brother. “Do you want all of the guests to check out? We want this massive wedding party to be perfect.”

At the same time Mitzy lit into Alonzo. “It’s my life to keep alive, Alonzo, and if you think for a minute you can tell me where to sleep at night you have another think coming!”

The kitchen door swung open and a young girl with a sweeper came in, head lowered. “There are guests at the desk, who, um, have some questions,” she mumbled.

“Could they hear us fighting?” Mitzy asked, her face gone red.

“Yes ma’am,” the little house cleaner said.

Carmella punched her brother on the arm. “Good going,” she hissed on the way to her desk.

“I’m not going to see you killed, do you hear me? You have a choice: stay at Carmella’s or stay with me.” He crossed his arms and stared at her, one eyebrow lifted.

“I’m going to my room.” Mitzy turned on her heel, marched out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her room.

The platter could have been broken by Sabrina, who might still have a key or by Joan who kept a spare key in her office or by Marge who knew the spare key was in Joan’s office.

One broken platter didn’t suddenly mean that Alonzo could dictate her every move. The mere idea of it made her bile rise. She was not a child. She slammed the door to her room shut behind her. She pulled down the blanket on her bed and fluffed the pillow. It was only
6:00
in the evening, much too early for bed. She hadn’t even had dinner yet. She dropped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. The pillow was kind of lumpy. She reached back to fluff it more and felt something hard and smooth.
With a jagged edge.
Her heart
  jumped
to her throat as she pulled it out from under her pillow. It was a shard from the platter.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

Heart pounding, Mitzy walked to the door. She didn’t try to be silent. Whoever put that shard under her pillow knew she was there. She leaned against the door, her hand on the knob.

The quiet knocking came again, “Mitz?”

“Alonzo?” she asked.

“Yeah.
Can I come in?”

Mitzy pulled the door open and grabbed Alonzo by the arm. She held the shard of platter up but didn’t say anything.

“Where was it?” Alonzo asked.

“Under my pillow.”

Alonzo pulled out his cell phone and called the direct number to the FBI. “This counts as something suspicious happening at the inn.”

Mitzy hung on Alonzo’s every word as he explained the broken platter, missing keys, and chunk of ceramic under Mitzy’s pillow. “Just put Backman on, will you?” he yelled. His face had gone red.

“What is it?” Mitzy mouthed. “Give me the phone.” She put her hand out for his cell.

Alonzo turned away from her to face the wall. She could hear his sharp intake of breath. He flung the phone on the dressing table with a harrumph.

“What?” Mitzy asked “Tell me what they said.”

“Voicemail.
They sent me to her voicemail.”

“Oh that’s right. She’s on her honeymoon, but there’s got to be someone else there that cares. You told someone, I heard you.”

“Yeah.
They ‘made a note.’
A note.
For the love.
Someone out there is threatening you, and they took a note.” Alonzo turned and crossed the room, his hands clenching and unclenching.

“We’ve already called the police. They’re looking into it.” Mitzy reached out again, trying to touch Alonzo’s sleeve. He kept pacing.

“Yeah, they took a note, too. I guess it’s up to you and me. I assume this is those guys from the scooter shop again. They obviously screwed up and killed the wrong woman. They made it to your office, and you were gone. They made it here, and you were gone. You’d better stick close so that they don’t find you the next time they try.”

Mitzy was already filling her suitcase. “Will you walk me next door to Carmella’s?” she asked. But then she stopped. “Last spring they torched that house to stop me. They know it’s mine. I don’t want them to do something awful with Diego Jr.
there
. I can’t stay with your sister.” She set her bag down and dropped onto her bed again.

“Then stay here. But switch rooms with me. I’ll keep staying here too. It’s imperfect, but better than nothing.”

“It’ll do if we can’t think of anything better, but right now I just want to get out of here.”

“Okay, babe.
Let’s leave. I’ll take you for dinner somewhere across the river.”

“Because murderers never cross the river?”

“Yup.
No one ever crosses the river.”

They drove off into the evening, which Mitzy thought ought to have been a little darker and a little later to fit her mood. They crossed the
Glenn
Jackson
Bridge
over the
Columbia River
and headed into
Vancouver
,
Washington
. She felt safer here. Portlanders and Vancouver—what do you call someone from
Vancouver
? She wondered—they don’t cross the bridge willy-nilly. It’s a big deal.

“Do you know where you are going?” Mitzy asked.

Alonzo grunted.

“Stay on the highway then and head North to Hazel Dell. There’s a great mini-golf course.

Alonzo choked a little, “What?”

“Here, turn at SR 500 and head to Hazel Dell. It will be worth it.
Steak burgers and mini golf.
The perfect hiding place.” Alonzo shook his head but followed her directions.

Hazel Dell was in the Northeast corner of
Vancouver
. It was quiet and suburban, an aging area. Mitzy smiled a very small smile. No one was going to try and kill her while she played putt-putt with her boyfriend at a family restaurant on a Friday night.

Alonzo polished off his burger, but Mitzy toyed with hers. The fear of being followed by a murderer had stolen her appetite.

They went outside to the putt-putt course. The sun had set, leaving a biting chill in the air. They checked out putters and balls and started at the first hole.

“This is much safer.” Alonzo took a swing at the air. “We could knock anyone out with one of these.”

“That’s right.” Mitzy thumped hers on the putting green three times. “I dare any thug to try and get me while I have this bad boy.”

Alonzo sent his ball into the wall so it ricocheted into the hole in one putt. “If I win you stay at my place. If you win I get to have you stay at my place.”

“No bet. I’m great at this.” She made a feeble putt that sent her ball only half way to the corner of the dogleg. “No, I am great. I’m just off my game. Murder puts me off my game.”

A lady in faux fur on the hole nearest Mitzy turned and looked, her mouth gaping.

Mitzy sighed and lowered her voice. She gave it another feeble putt and the ball knocked into the far wall and then rolled almost back to start. “I should be talking to Fiona again. Not golfing.”

Alonzo stood impatiently with his ball in his hand. “It’s mistaken identity. What could Fiona know?”

“I think something is wrong at Neveah’s. What if I’m wrong about the murder being mistaken identity—
”

“The message said you weren’t wrong.”

“I know, but what if I was wrong? What if this other murder has created an opportunity for the Mafia to get revenge?”

“Too far fetched.”

“To a sane person it’s far fetched. But to a lunatic?” She finally got her ball around the corner and close to the hole. Alonzo looked at his watch so she picked her ball up and walked to the next hole.

“You can’t do that,” Alonzo said.

“You’re bored. We’ll make this quick.”

“You go first this time.”

Mitzy hit her ball and it sailed through the obstacle, hovered at the rim of the hole and then sunk.

Alonzo rapped his putter against the green and pushed his ball back and forth.

“I told you I was good.” Mitzy smiled a little. “We’ve only been together for what, 9 months? There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” She waited while he took his turn. It took him three hits. “This is the volcano hole, honey.” Mitzy indicated the obstacle in front of them, “You need to be strong and take a risk to get it in. No pussyfooting around. No second-guessing. You’ve got to go with your gut.”

“Any more clichés for me?”
Alonzo said, taking another putt.

“Just one.”
Mitzy slipped her arm though his and snuggled close, “Trust me. Something isn’t right at Neveah’s and I think we should find out what it is.”

Alonzo pulled his collar up. “It’s starting to rain,” he said.

Mitzy flipped up her hood. “You’re not a native, are you?”

“I am.” He stood up a little taller in the cold mist.

“Then man up. A Portlander
can
putt-putt in the rain.” As she said it, the other two families headed inside. The cold mist began to sputter. She stood with her putter in the electric light on a dark December night with Alonzo, rain splattering her hood.

Alonzo groaned and gave his putter a sharp whack on the volcano hole.