Foreclosed: A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery (A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery, a Cozy Christian Collection) (10 page)

Things were quiet at their table until the Romanov-Mikhaylichenko pendant came up. A deeper hush fell over the room and the pendant was put up for an opening bid of one thousand dollars. Someone from the back of the room raised it from that to $5000 in one bid.

Mrs. Wilber’s bidding war brought the price up to $15,000 before she dropped out.

Mitzy looked at Alonzo with a gleam in her eye and bid $15,500. It wasn’t just a drop in the bucket anymore, but she hadn’t been priced out entirely.

It went back and forth, until Mitzy had the high bid at $17,000.

“Twenty thousand dollars.” Aerin held up her paddle, her mouth a firm line. Her forehead glistened but her paddle didn’t shake. Brett put his drink down and cleared his throat.

“I would like to retire someday.” Brett took a long drink from his tumbler.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Aerin held her paddle firm.

Mitzy’s face was flushed and her breath was shallow.

Sabrina stared with her huge eyes.

Mitzy’s paddle stayed on the table.

The pendant was sold to Aerin Flint-Neuhaus.

Alonzo appraised Mitzy carefully. He didn’t want to, but he had to respect her restraint in that moment.
There’s a woman that doesn’t act on impulse.
He added it to her short list of positive traits. Before this evening the list had been very short. The black dress had upped her positive points considerably, but a well dressed woman with self-control was altogether more rare and impressive.

Mitzy went home without any of the jewelry she had admired but also without the buyer’s remorse she would have had. Aerin should be so lucky.

Mitzy shivered. She had made it through the whole evening without killing Alonzo Miramontes. There should have been an award for that. At times she even laughed at his jokes. He could tell a good story. She wondered if he might take her idea of going on the radio seriously.

They could be a good team.

She stopped. That hadn’t really popped into her head, had it?

No. She was thinking of what would be good for the radio station, that’s all.

A stocky, rather nondescript man of medium height and sandy brown-ish hair swept the floor of the
Tiffany
Center
after the gala event. He had watched Aerin Flint-Neuhaus with care as she made her auction purchase official. And during the evening he had noted that Mitzy Neuhaus owned a rental property on a certain road called
Baltimore
.

Sunday morning Mitzy needed to be refreshed. She didn’t need responsibility or obligations. The morning was cool and gray. Rain was misting.

Her hair would need extra fortification today. She appraised herself in the mirror. Freshly washed, it looked almost the same as it had at the gala on Friday night. Loose, long and soft.

She put the can of hair spray down.
Forget it
, she thought.
Today is for me and God. Not clients or men.

She left the house in more casual clothes, just jeans and a sweater. Perfect for light spring rain and anonymity. She drove right past her small family church. It would be a good day to disappear into a mega church, spend a Sunday without anyone asking her to join a project committee. She liked committees, but some days she just needed a Sabbath.

She went all the way across town, to the Westside, where she didn’t buy any print ads. The big church on this side of town was New Life Ministries, some kind of non-denomination place famous for its good teaching and young pastor. Inside, she sunk into a green pew chair and opened her Bible. A few people greeted her in a friendly way, and she responded, but generally, they let her sit quietly and read.

By the end of the service she was ready to take communion. She had shed the frustration of the gala, of painful associations with people she didn’t like and of the bad economy. She knew the peace might not last, but as she walked forward to take her bread and juice she only felt thankful.

She was thankful that her sister-in-law had allowed her to help with such a big part of her life, despite their differences.

She was thankful for having spent a fun evening with her friend Sabrina.

She was thankful that in this time of hardship for so many people she was able to be a blessing. She felt very blessed indeed to be able to be a blessing.

Her turn came at the little table in the front of the sanctuary. There were about ten white tablecloth covered tables at the front and at each one a lengthy line of people waited.

The waiting had been significant for her. She served herself the body and the blood, closed her eyes and thanked the Lord.

As she walked away from the table her eyes wandered down the line of tables. So many people partaking in the Lord’s Supper together, each one of them giving themselves once more to God and His will.

It lifted her heart that so many people wanted God. If she could keep a tight hold on today’s feeling she could do anything.

The man at the table next to her was kneeling, but she recognized him anyway. Who would have thought?

She was back to her seat by the time Alonzo had risen from his kneeling stance.

In her car, leaving the parking lot, Mitzy saw Alonzo helping a very old woman into his pickup truck. She wondered absently if it was his grandmother or someone else. At any rate, it was a surprising bit of nice to add to the overall picture.

She thought about what compromising her stance on her building would really mean.

How bad would it be to sell him half of her building?

If he had that project to do he might give up on his plans for the Victorian. And maybe he wasn’t as awful as he seemed.

Monday morning, Joan stumbled through the front door of the office, her arms protecting a stylish, if somewhat large purse.

“Where’s Mitzy?” Joan asked, puffing for breath.

“Getting coffee. Didn’t you see her in the parking lot?” Sabrina eyed the bag. It was cute. Sort of high style. Not quite as artsy as she’d expect from Joan.

“She wasn’t at Bean Me Ups. Maybe she went to make a donut run.” Joan leaned against the wall.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable.” Sabrina waved her hand towards the empty chair at Mitzy’s desk. “You know we’re not doing anything very important right now.” Out of the corner of her eye, Sabrina could have sworn that Joan’s purse moved. She eyed it very closely. It had vented sides. “Joan…do you have a happy announcement to make?” Sabrina asked.

Joan sat down, sort of cradling her bag. “You’re quick, come peek.” 

Sabrina peeked into a dog carrier masquerading as a bag. Inside was a small golden fluffy something. Very sweet.

“Ooh! Can I hold it?” Sabrina crooned.

“Of course.” Joan lifted a fluffy, floppy eared puppy dog out of the purse and gently handed it over to Sabrina.

“What is it?” Sabrina asked, holding its soft fur to her cheek.

“He’s a cock-a-poo.”

“What?”

“A cocker spaniel poodle. He’s the sweetest thing ever. A client of mine bought him last week while her husband was away on vacation. But when hubby came back he said no way, period, end of sentence.” Joan set the dog carrier on Sabrina’s desk. “She didn’t dare tell him what the dog cost. I’m keeping track of him for a little bit, but I can’t do it all day. I’ve actually got a new job starting. It’s charming the way people turn to stagers after their house has sat for months on end instead of before.” Joan pulled out Mitzy’s chair and sat down. She stretched her arms and sighed deeply. “Do you know where I can find a good dog boarder?” 

“A boarder? No, poor thing. Leave him here. We’re not doing anything today. Do you have any puppy food for him?” Sabrina held the puppy up to her cheek and nuzzled him.

“Oh no, he ate. I can come back and get him before he needs anything else. I’ll take a lunch and come see how you are doing. Listen, if it is really okay, I’ll leave him. I’ve got to run now.” Joan stood up again. “Promise me it’s not a problem, or he won’t stay.” Joan stepped towards the door, ready to make her break.

“Wittle himsy a problem? Never!” Sabrina held him over her head and wiggled him like a baby.

Joan had the door open before Sabrina finished her sentence. “My client called him Gilbert. Have fun, you two.” 

Joan had been gone for quite a while before Mitzy returned with her coffee and donuts. But not long before Ben showed up with his sarcasm and complete disbelief over what idiots women can be at times.

Mitzy brought in coffee and donuts. Not from Bean Me Ups, which doesn’t sell donuts, but from Winchells, a
Portland
classic. She set them on the reception counter and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”

Sabrina blushed.

“Is it a sort of Lysol meets dog pee kind of smell?” Ben laughed.

“Well, yes. It is.”

“Then yes, I smell it too.”

“So…is it too obvious to ask why we smell that?” Mitzy was looking the not gigantic room over as she asked.

“It’s Gilbert’s fault.” Ben jerked his thumb in Sabrina’s direction.

“Gilbert?” Mitzy turned her attention to Sabrina. The can of Lysol air spray was on her desk. A magenta bag with vented sides was on the floor, in the knee hole of the desk, but Mitzy saw it.

“He’s just a puppy, Ben. What do you expect?” Sabrina nudged the carrier with the toe of her Birks, pushing it farther under the desk.

“Puppy?” Mitzy was catching on slowly.

“He’s awful sweet, Mitz. He’s a cock-a-poo, and velvety soft, so fluffy and tiny. Really tiny, come see.” Sabrina lifted a small, slightly damp puppy out of the bag from the floor.

“Sabrina! He’s all wet. Didn’t you take him out?” Mitzy turned her head and looked sideways at the messy, sort of smelly little dog.

“Should I take him out? I thought that’s what the bag was for.”

“You didn’t!” Mitzy groaned.

“Umm. I kind of did. It says washable.” Sabrina turned tomato red.

“Then go wash it, and the puppy. Run to the bathroom, use warm water and no soap. Or wait, I have some baby shampoo in my desk. Use that.” Mitzy dug in her desk drawer and pulled out a sample sized bottle of shampoo. She couldn’t let the dog derail her plans, so she worked hard to maintain a sense of equanimity.

“So, can I ask why you keep a bottle of baby shampoo in your desk?” Ben crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, an amused smile playing on his face.

“It’s not as mysterious as why Sabrina is keeping a puppy under her desk. I keep a change of clothes in the closet. If I get a stain I can hand wash it right away. I’m certainly not going to use bathroom hand soap on anything silk. But really, why the puppy?” Sounds of crying puppy and splashing water were coming from the ladies’ room.

“Sounds like Sabrina could use your change of clothes too,” was all Ben offered.

“If she’s learned anything working here, she has her own. Why a puppy?” The last bit she projected so Sabrina could hear her.

From the bathroom came, “Joan!” 

“Joan.” Mitzy picked out a maple bar. This was not a good day for a stinky office. Curt was going to call again about the film crew, and most likely want to see her office. If she could, she’d have them film the signing in her small, private office. It was charming, had good light. Simple, quality craftsman furniture picked up bit by bit at the antiques mall down the road. He’d want to see the office though and today it smelled bad. They would be much more likely to film at Xavian’s Bistro two blocks down if he thought her office was a dump. Well, not a dump, but a place that smelled too bad to spend the day in for filming.

All she wanted to do right now was sell a house. She’d gladly trade her donut and the TV show for a nice, hopeful couple in the back of the company HHR driving around looking for their dream house. That was really the only way she wanted to spend the day.

Sabrina popped out of the bathroom with the wet puppy wrapped in her Lands End cardigan. He was much cuter wet and clean than he had been filthy.

“I have the carrier drying in the sink.” She tried to pass the puppy to Ben. He refused impolitely.

“Oh, give him to me.” Mitzy reached for Gilbert.

“I’ll just run back in the bathroom for a second and dry the carrier with some paper towels.”

She came back in a moment with the dry, clean carrier.

The warm wiggling dog made Mitzy’s pulse slow down. She held him close to her heart. “Sabrina, if you are going to keep him here all day, you have to take him outside to the planter box to potty every twenty minutes. You can’t let him go in his carrier. For one thing it makes him miserable. For another…well, it still stinks in here.”

Sabrina looked down at her feet.

“What is it?”

“I took him out to play for a few minutes,” Sabrina said quietly.

“And?” Mitzy raised her eyebrow.

“He had an accident on the rug.” Sabrina glanced towards a dark stain near Ben’s chair.