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

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “You’ve got to go back,” Alonzo said without moving.

  “I’m so scared.” Warm tears filled her eyes. She tried to blink them away.

  Alonzo still didn’t move. “We’ve only got one chance to make the right choice,” he said. “Please go back.” His voice was so low she could hardly hear it. “Do you know how hard this is for me to say?”

  Mitzy didn’t answer.

  “You’ve got to trust God in this because right now you cannot trust me.”

  “But—”

  Alonzo sat up a few inches onto his elbow. “No one can get you here. Go back and lock your door and trust God. You can’t trust me in the middle of the night. I do not have your best interests in mind.” He reached his hand out for her. It met her shoulder. She let his hand rest there and then slowly stroke her arm. “Please don’t ask me to let you sleep here. I want you too much.”

  She rolled onto her back. His arm followed her motion and rested on her collarbone. He pulled it away. “Mitzy, listen to me! Go to your room.” He stood up and turned the light on. She sat up too, and looked at him. He looked vulnerable in his boxers. “Did you hear me?”

  She dropped her legs over the side of the bed and hesitated.

  “You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” Alonzo said.

  “I’ll go.” Mitzy whispered. She was hot, and tired, and scared but she didn’t dare ask for a good-night kiss.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mitzy heard the lock click behind her after she shut the door. When she climbed into her own bed a different picture haunted her dreams.

  The next morning Mitzy took her breakfast in the staff room with Carmella. Alonzo had left for his worksite hours earlier. The wan sunlight that filtered through the cloud covered sky did nothing to brighten her mood. She was embarrassed about her night.

  “So how did you like your first night together?” Carmella asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  Mitzy cringed. “I’m sorry to be a poor sport, Carmella, but I’ve got murder on my mind. Is there anything in the paper today about the body?”

  Carmella raised an eyebrow, “Just the murder, hey? All right then. No, no mention yet on the news, but someone on Twitter mentioned it.”

  “Really? I wonder how they found out.”

  “I think from the police radio. Anyway they said she was in her mid-twenties and was killed in her new home.”

  “So she was my buyer! Lara Capet. I knew it could only have been her. Did anyone else tweet about it?”

  “No,” Carmella said. “But I think we’ll be hearing about it on the radio or TV a little later today. The news is never far behind the tweets.”

  “I have to get to the office, so just send me an email or something if you learn anything else. I have to call the Realtor who represented the buyer and let her know. Maybe we’ll have lunch together. I need to find out how long the condo will be a crime scene.”

  “So, where were you going to live? I mean, once your parents came back. Were you going to move in with Al?”

  Mitzy made a show of pulling out her phone and checking the time. Her sleeping arrangements were the last thing she wanted to think about right now. “What do you think? The wedding is set for June 7th. I figured I’d just keep staying at my parents’ place until then, but I have other options. This town is full of rentals.”

  “Only you, Mitzy, would move back in with your parents instead of moving in with your man. I’ll never understand you.”

  The real estate office was always quiet now that her graphics guy and her personal assistant were gone. And big. It felt cavernous and echoey. Alonzo was upstairs in the Miramontes suite of rooms when he wasn’t at the job site. Joan kept her staging office upstairs as well. Nevertheless, Mitzy missed the noise and fun of working in a room full of people. Of course, back when she needed a lot of help she was usually out showing houses.

  She checked her email. Nothing from Carmella. She listened to the radio. No news on the murder. She tried calling Tina, the Realtor who had worked with Lara the dead woman, but had to leave a message.

  She couldn’t take the quiet any longer. She abandoned her office, and went next door to see Tabby at the paint-your-own-ceramics-shop.

  Tabby stood on a step stool organizing shelves of coffee mugs on the wall.

  The little bell on the door jingled when Mitzy entered.

  “Welcome!” Tabby called out over her shoulder.

  “Hey there.” Mitzy sat down at the table nearest the register and watched Tabby stack shelves.

  “Are you just about ready to take your hard-earned vacation?” Tabby asked.

  “Not anymore.”

  “But don’t you close on your condo soon? In a couple of weeks?”

  “No.” Mitzy choked on the word and couldn’t say anything else for a moment.

  “What’s the matter?” Tabby put the mug she was holding on the shelf and turned around. She stepped down from her stool and sat on it.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh, no! Something wrong between you and Alonzo?”

  “No.” Mitzy’s throat tightened. She had come in to talk to her friend but it was so hard to speak. She swallowed.

  “Do you hate leaving the office that much?”

  “It’s not that. I could probably leave for a year without anyone noticing. But—”

  Tabby cut her off, “Am I just remembering wrong? You were going to take, like, two months off after your condo sold, right?”

  “I was. And I still might. I don’t think I’ll go anywhere interesting. Just get away. But…” She paused again. She had to force herself to get it out. “Oh Tabby, there was a horrible murder last night.”

  Tabby’s jaw dropped. Mitzy recounted the story. “The victim was the girl who was buying my condo, so I’m not going anywhere right now. Not that I’m worried about selling my place. That’s not what I mean.” Mitzy stumbled over her words. She needed to talk so that she could pull herself together. The sooner she could get her confidence back the better.

  “Of course not. I know you. You’re worried about the poor girl. Murder. Oh my. Are they sure? I think that’s about the worst thing I could think of.” Tabby dabbed her eyes with a tissue as she spoke. “You should go away, if you can. Go to that nice retreat center at the beach. Pray and meditate until you feel secure again. Nothing can take the murder away. But at least you have the freedom to seek out some peace.”

  “I don’t think I could do that.” As nice as a get away sounded Mitzy didn’t want to leave town. Here in town, her friends expected to see her. If someone killed her while she was supposed to be on vacation it could take ages for someone to notice. Mitzy craved the safety of her routine.

  “But what are you going to do? Do you have to get a lawyer? Are you going to have to testify?”

  “I don’t think they need anything from me right now. I just have to sit and wait like everyone else.”

  “Then sit and wait in here as long as you need to. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “Oh thank you,” Mitzy fanned her face with her hand. Her cheeks were hot. After last night it felt good to be invited to stay.

  “Where are you staying right now? Do you want to crash with me? I hate to think of you all alone. You must be terrified.”

  Mitzy just nodded for a moment. “I am. I shouldn’t be, but I’m really scared right now.”

  “Then stay with me for as long as you need.”

  “I stayed at the inn last night and can stay there as long as I want, I’m sure. But I’d hate to leave my parents’ place unattended for as long as they are going to be gone.”

  “That’s right. You’ve got that hotel. I’m glad you have somewhere to go but if it gets lonely then just come straight to me, okay? There’s no reason on earth you should be alone.”

  “You are great, you know that? I really needed to hear that right now. I—I should be fine in a night or two. Then I need to just get right back into my routine.”r />
  “Well, a few nights away won’t hurt you or your parents’ house. Your mom and dad are the last people to want you to be alone and scared.” Tabby gave Mitzy a motherly smile that warmed Mitzy up. She could have really used her mom right now. “Give it a couple of nights and then get back into a normal routine. You’ll be glad you did. It was horrible that you had to find the body but it won’t haunt you forever. Let me step into my office and make you a cup of tea and then don’t even think of leaving your seat until lunch time.”

  Mitzy nodded. She decided against explaining her fears that the murderer was really after her. She wanted to believe her fear would pass quickly. “You’re right, I’m sure. My parents’ house will be okay for a few nights longer. I can pop over and feed the cats in the afternoon. And I’d love a cup of tea.”

  Tabby patted Mitzy on the back as she passed her. “Do you want to do lunch with me? I have a party here this afternoon, we could grab a bite beforehand.”

  “Just the tea, thanks. I’m going to try and pull myself together.”

  “You give yourself time, hear me?” Tabby called from her office.

  “I’ll try.” Mitzy crossed the room with measured steps. She hated to leave the warm, comfortable shop. She’d stay for as many cups of tea as Tabby offered.

  She paused and fingered a teapot. Mitzy had helped Tabby find a home, and she had helped Tabby’s parents downsize. She had even helped Tabby’s daughter find a nice apartment in Seattle. However, she had never painted any ceramics. She picked up the teapot.

  Tabby returned with a mug of tea and smiled at Mitzy, “You’re welcome to make a pot. Sometimes expressing yourself wordlessly can help relieve fears and worries. Sit down.”

  Mitzy sat. She looked up at Tabby and smiled. Teapot painting would probably not take away the worry this time.

  “Don’t expect to feel perfect after one teapot though, Mitzy. You may need to make the whole set before you find any relief for your fears.” Tabby brought a box of supplies to the table and began to set out a variety of brushes and sponges as well as small pots filled with grayish liquid.

  Mitzy picked up one of the pots and watched the liquid slide side to side as she rotated it.

  “Those are your glazes,” Tabby explained. “They look kind of sad now, but when you fire them they will be lovely. I’m giving you the ‘Portland’ color set, grays and greens mostly, because of your mood. I don’t think you would be able to find yourself in the brighter colors.”

  “These glazes are all different colors?” Mitzy asked. She put the pot down and stirred a different one with a thin tipped brush. “I mean, they look different, but only a little.”

  Tabby pulled a platter off the wall. The decoration was an impressionistic view of Mt. Hood and Mirror Lake in the fog. Tall evergreen tree tops pierced the silver mists and the snowy white cap of the mountain glowed against a sky of swirling blues and grays. “That color palette created this scene. It’s been a very popular design style over the years.”

  “That’s beautiful.” Mitzy wanted to go to the foggy place and hide from her troubles. “Did you paint that?”

  Tabby smiled and stroked the platter. “No. Hannah did. My daughter has more talent in her little finger than I have in my whole body.” Tabby put the platter back up on the small easel.

  “Is it for sale? I think I’d rather own that than paint anything of my own.”

  “Of course it is. She made a whole stack of them for me. Let me give it to you. It’s the least I can do after how you floated my rent for so much of the last year.”

  “You are already almost done paying that back. Which you did not have to do. But I will let you give me the platter. I don’t have any cash on me right now.”

  Tabby lifted the platter back off of the easel. She took it to the register counter and wrapped it carefully. “Some people think a little shop like this is just for hobbyists, but I’ve seen some beautiful art come and go over the years. And not just from my Hannah.”

  “I don’t know much about art, but if you see things like this platter on a regular basis, I believe you. Has Joan ever come in here?”

  “Your home stager? No. I don’t think so.”

  “I’m sending her over ASAP. She is always looking for new original art to help sell homes.” Mitzy picked up the paper wrapped platter and cradled it in her arms. “Thank you so much for this. I can’t tell you exactly why, but it is just what I need right now.” She leaned over and kissed Tabby’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  Tabby gave Mitzy a little side hug. “If you change your mind about painting, come back. I think you would really benefit from it.”

  Mitzy set the platter back on the counter and picked up her mug of tea. This commercial building was hers, the whole thing. But this room, with the friend, the gift, and the tea was the part that felt like home.

  Upstairs Joan’s office was locked and dark. Marge, Alonzo’s secretary, stood guard in his office, but she had a lot of work on her plate.

  Mitzy made her tea last as long as she could, but when the children started to arrive for their pottery painting party she decided she had to go. She gathered her purse and her package and left, her heart a little lighter, to face the rest of her day.

  She let herself into the Neuhaus New Homes Real Estate office and sighed. She missed her old assistant Sabrina. Mitzy unwrapped the platter and leaned it against the back of the shelf by her desk. The platter gave her a peaceful, rested feeling that she wouldn’t have been able to put into words.

  She stared at the platter for a moment longer then made her decision. She’d use this quiet moment to get her computer troubles sorted out.

  After an hour of phone calls and a trip across town Mitzy felt like she had her server issues solved. And without the help of the webmaster-who-must-not-be-named. She came back to her office, proud of what she had gotten done.

  Ben sat in his old chair.

  “What are you doing here?” Mitzy asked when she saw him there.

  “I didn’t call. You told me not to call so I didn’t.”

  “What I meant was—”

  “I think I know what you meant, Mitzy. But you didn’t really mean it. Who else would sort out this mess for you? What is all of this junk?”

  “Jenny is going to kill you when she finds out you are here.”

  “She’s not going to find out. And I’m about ready to do some damage myself. What did you mean by bringing all of this decrepit equipment into your office?”

  “I am solving the server problem.”

  “By setting up a museum of old crap?”

  “By installing my own server so I don’t have to keep using an unreliable…proxy.”

  “Is this meant to be a server?”

  “Yes. It is. I connected with Free Geek and they set me up with this great recycled stuff. I’m green and independent. Couldn’t be more Portland than that, could I?” Mitzy knelt down next to the stack of computer equipment on her office floor and began to sort the parts into piles.

  “You want a smooth running marketing machine and you want it now so you called Free Geek? Let me guess, you made a huge donation, and now you are stuck with a bunch of stuff even the homeless wouldn’t use. How am I supposed to set you up with what you need if you give me the wrong equipment?”

  “I’m not giving you anything. I’m doing it myself.” She banged a rolled up wire onto the stack of computer parts by her knee.

  “You’re a tech guru now, I take it?”

  “Is that, or is that not a server?” Mitzy asked, pointing at a large gray rectangle in the middle of the stack.

  “Kind of,” Ben said.

  “Will those wires connect me to it?” she asked.

  “That’s as yet to be seen. You don’t need any of this. You need to set up your website with a cloud server.”

  “That’s what we already had, and that’s why we have been out of commission.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” Ben said. “We had a host and the ho
st’s server went down. We need to be our own host with our own cloud server.”

  “Does that box in the middle of that pile have enough power to show still photos of property and let people do a search?”

  “Well yes, but you like to have virtual tours as well,” Ben said with a smug smirk plastered on his face.

  “Does it have enough power for that?” Mitzy asked after a pause. Virtual tours were good selling features.

  Ben paused too. “Yes, but still,” he said, “You would regret limiting yourself to this system after a very short while.”

  Mitzy looked at the platter. The calm, misty mountain and the placid lake. “What about just using it as a back up server? Could we run a limited function site from this server to keep our business running? Could we have this server and our own cloud whatever thingy?”

  Ben let out a low whistle, but had a happy glint in his eye, “Yes, but it would take creating two versions of your site. We could do it and it would be fantastic.”

  Mitzy rocked back on her heels and pressed her palms against her thighs. This was one more thing she had done wrong in a spectacular two days of failure. “Fine. Just do whatever. But talk to Jenny about us soon. I think you are being a child.”

  “My wife doesn’t want me working with you Mitzy. And that dead woman on your back deck won’t make things any better.”

  Mitzy sucked in her breath and stood up. She picked her cell off her desk and checked her messages while Ben waited. Nothing from Carmella. She looked up at Ben who stood with his arms crossed on his chest, looking down at the used computer equipment.

  She wanted to make him wait. She sent a text to the officer in charge of the investigation and hoped he would get back to her. She had a knot the size of a fist in her stomach and no amount of computer talk would make it go away. She needed to get some closure on the murder. Was it really Lara Capet? What had happened to her?

  “Ahem.”

  “Yes?” Mitzy looked up from her phone.

  “The cops aren’t going to text you about their investigation.”

  She set the phone back on the desk. “They might,” she said.