Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse (13 page)

“I don’t think so but you don’t have to be smart to be trusty.”

“No, that’s true.” Alonzo swallowed his bite.
“But boy, that hat.
I’d almost say it was David from Neveah’s Wardrobe. He’s young and a flashy dresser.”

“When I talked with David I thought he was trying to implicate Hector in the crime.” Mitzy began to twist a curl of hair around her finger, “Would David
work
both sides like that? Take money from Hector and try to get him arrested?”

“It depends on how badly he needed the money,” Alonzo said. “He likes to live large. Maybe he thought he could make a little money off of Hector.”

“But wouldn’t he be an accessory or something then?”

“If David was the one to lead the cops to Hector’s arrest they might not charge him. Or he might get off with a light sentence.” Alonzo finished his Danish and wiped his fingers on his napkin.

“That’s all only true if Trish killed Lara to get Hector for herself, instead of the Frog killing Lara thinking she was me.”

“I didn’t get the impression that The Frog would work for Russians. He said he was Romanian and looked serious about it.”

“Would he admit to being Russian if he was working for the Mafia as a
hitman
?” Mitzy sat back, resting on her elbows. She looked at the ceiling and considered The Frog. He was the only connection to the location and the weapon, but as far as she could tell he had no connection at all to Lara or herself. If he was the killer he had to be paid.

“Would he use a brick from his own job site if he was a professional
hitman
?” Alonzo asked.

“I wouldn’t. But if he was stupid enough to wear a plaid hat that anyone would notice, or if he was a part time
hitman
he might also use his own brick as a murder weapon. As far as I can tell the Mafia has more reasons to kill me than anyone has to kill Lara.”

“You don’t need a lot of reasons to kill someone.
Just one really good reason.”

“So then we keep looking,” Mitzy said.

“I think we need to. Trish might have killed Lara out of jealousy. But someone else may have had a more compelling reason to see her dead. I don’t think a Mafia killer stumbled on someone that looked like you on your patio and took a free chance to kill you. It’s just not logical.” Alonzo said.

“I’m glad it’s not. But with the threats and the phone call I don’t think I’m any safer for the lack of logic.”

“I agree. Are you coming to the office with me today or staying here?”

“I’ll stay at the inn for now. But I’ll call you if I have a change of location.”

“Good enough babe. I’ve got to go to work. Lock my room when you leave.” He kissed her by her ear, right under her jaw. “Delicious,” he whispered.

The inn was swarming with staff and guests. Plenty of little jobs piled up during the day. Mitzy thought she could make it through the next eight hours without dying of boredom. But she didn’t want to lose any time on her investigation, so after Alonzo left for work she made a phone call.

Mitzy decided to enlist the help of Alice McNinch again. She wanted to trap Hector or Trish into saying something incriminating. They’d be on their guard with her, but not with a friend of Lara’s. Whatever else motivated
Hector,
Mitzy still believed he had really loved Lara. She called
Alice
at home.

“I’d love to help. I’ve been trying to think of something I could do all day. How do you think I could trick Hector?”

“You were such a good friend of Lara. He’s bound to spill a little of his grief with you like he did at first with me. If you could lead the conversation…talk about it like it had been an accident, anything. I can’t promise but I bet you could lead him into admitting something he wasn’t planning on admitting.”

“I’ll do my best Mitzy.”

“Good luck.” Mitzy ended the call. She needed more than luck to sort this out. She needed a miracle.

Alice
waited until ten to leave on her mission. She had
been wanting
to do something to help Lara, but her nerve almost gave out as she drove to the Bloody Ink Tattoo Parlor. What could she say to lead the conversation? She had no idea.

She stepped into the shop and was glad to see it was empty. She could see Hector in the back room sitting in front of his computer. She walked straight back to him. “Hey Hector. I haven’t seen you since Lara…”

“Since someone butchered Lara?” He looked up from his work with red-rimmed eyes.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’ve got my good days and my bad days.” Hector moved his mouse back and forth. “We had a fight right before she died. Did I tell you that?” He pushed his mouse roughly so that it fell off the side of the desk. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.”

Alice
nodded. She attempted to read his cues. He was taking his time talking. And while his eyes were red rimmed, she thought it looked like the result of a hangover rather than tears. “Have you been getting out?”

“I don’t like to be alone right now.” Hector rolled his desk chair back so he was facing
Alice
. “Trish’s been staying with me. It helps.”

Alice
nodded. Trish wasn’t a secret anymore.

“She’s different from Lara, you know? When Trish is around you can’t be down. She’s good medicine.”

“I bet,”
Alice
said. Her heart hurt for Lara. Lara thought she was going to marry Hector, last time they talked. “It’s not been long, yeah?”
Alice
said, “But when you find someone who feels right…”

“Yeah.
That’s it. Trish feels right.” Hector stood up. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a picture. He looked at it for a moment and then passed it to
Alice
. She took the picture from him and looked at it. The picture was of Lara. She was at a beach somewhere in a bikini and huge sunglasses. “With Lara around I couldn’t ever get ahead, you know? She always wanted more. But Trish has always been good with whatever. It all works for her.”

“Sure,”
Alice
said. Lara didn’t look happy in the picture.
Alice
turned it face down on her palm. She wanted to remember Lara as a happy person, but it wasn’t true.

“Lara was hot and smart. I couldn’t just give her up, but I should have. Trish was always there for me.”

Alice
turned away. She didn’t like to think of this man cheating on Lara. It was disgusting.

“Lara’s dead, man. I should just shut myself up for a while but I can’t. Not with a woman like Trish around for me. I don’t know how to explain it, right? But you were Lara’s friend so you’d know. You knew her. She was a hard woman.
Hard to please.”

“Yeah.
She was.” It was frustrating, but Hector was right. Lara had been hard to please. She had been demanding and rigid. But she had worked hard and played hard and had a wicked sense of humor. “Did Lara know about Trish?”

“I doubt it. I doubt she would have cared either.
So long as I didn’t spend any money on Trish.”

Alice
faked a little laugh, “Yeah, I know it. Was Trish ever jealous? It’s got to be hard to love two women.”

“Trish
don’t
got a jealous bone in her body. She takes what she can get and that’s enough. Now she can have it all.”

“So you’re a one woman man now?”

“Trish is number one, anyway,” Hector said.

“Nice,”
Alice
muttered.

“No one’s perfect, babe.
Least of all me.
Lara knew it. Trish knows it.
Whatever.
I gotta get some work done.” Hector walked to the door. “It’s good to see you, Alice. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Does Trish need a new best friend? I could use some comfort too.”

Hector chuckled. “You call her. You never know what Trish is up for.”

She left, him shaking his head and laughing. She had failed to get a confession or even a clue from him. She didn’t get the sense that he knew anything either. If Trish had killed in a fit of jealousy,
Alice
was sure that Hector did not know a thing about it.

There was still a chance Trish had done it.
Alice
decided it wasn’t too early to hit the bar.
Alice
had been out drinking with Hector and Lara at the pub where Trish worked, but she was pretty sure Trish wouldn’t recognize her.

She drove across town to the pub. It was open for lunch but not busy yet.
Alice
grabbed a stool at the bar. She was relieved to see Trish working the counter. Her black ponytail was stuffed into a hairnet, and her work shirt was a size too small.

“What can
I
getcha?” Trish asked.

Alice
smiled, “Can I get an Irish coffee?”

“Sure.” Trish turned away to make the drink.

That gave
Alice
a moment to think. She wanted to hear what Trish thought about Lara. That was all.
Nothing more, nothing less.
 

Trish brought the mug of spiked coffee back to
Alice
.
Alice
leaned in. “Did you hear about that murder?” she asked.

“Which one?”
Trish said.

“The one at the condo.
The girl that got killed worked at a store I do business with.”

“Lara,” Trish said with a nod. “Yeah, my boyfriend used to date her. He’s pretty broken up.”

Alice
took a drink. “Is that weird for you?”

“Nah.
I get it. He loved her and now she’s dead. Anyone would be broken up about it.”

“Did you know her? She was kind of a friend of mine. I’ve never known someone who got murdered before.”

“I’d met her.” Trish put another patron’s receipt in a small vinyl folder and walked to the end of the bar. She picked up a damp towel while she was down there and wiped the counter clean as she made her way back to
Alice
.

“Do you think it was a random murder?”
Alice
asked when Trish was in front of her again. She swirled her coffee in her mug for a moment and then looked up at Trish.

“Are they ever? Someone must have had a reason to kill her.” Trish paused her wiping and looked up at
Alice
.

Alice
watched her face for signs of emotion but saw none.
None at all.
Her face was a study in calm.

“She was kind of difficult to work with, but I still can’t think of why someone would kill her.”

Trish shrugged. “Some people have really dark secrets, you know? We may never know what she had been mixed up in.”

Another customer took a stool at the bar and Trish walked over to take his order.

Either Trish was a murderer and
a complete sociopath or she hadn’t done it and really didn’t care much about it.
Alice
finished her coffee and left with an empty feeling inside.

Instead of helping find justice for a friend, she had listened to Hector disparage Lara and talk easily about infidelity and moving on.
Alice
’s stomach turned at the thought. She went straight home. She knew she could design some really beautiful gothic clothing in this mood.

Tormented by restlessness Mitzy had gone to Alonzo’s jobsite, but spending the day in his work trailer was going to drive Mitzy crazy. She couldn’t sit around doing nothing.
Even if there wasn’t a murder to solve.

She only had one thing left to search for. She typed the
Idaho
address from the label into Google and pulled up a map. First she zoomed in close and saw it was a very rural area. No surprise. Then she zoomed out, looking to get the bigger picture. She stopped midway and squinted.

A green swath of land was marked
BLM
forest. She’d heard stories before about
BLM
land. A lot of people made free with
BLM
land to raise a very expensive crop. One you’d hide in a shoe if you needed to mail it. She switched to bird’s eye view and zoomed close again. There
were no close
up images of the forestland.

She dragged her finger across the laptop mouse until she was right in front of the address listed. It was a huge A-frame house on a quiet road. This was where the
Idaho
designer lived, but Mitzy didn’t get it. The shoes and accessories Mitzy had seen hadn’t been all that hot. If Fiona was going to break her commitment to local design, Mitzy thought she ought to have picked something worth the trouble.

The house was set back a way from the road. The front was practically a wall of glass. She zoomed in a little closer. Instead of curtains the house had a rebel flag. She sucked in her breath. The land around the house was overgrown. There was a very expensive truck parked in front. There was money at that house.
Money and anger and no interest in landscaping.

Mitzy wanted to know what was growing in the forest. If she went there and found the crops that gave Fiona the cash to pay “bonuses” to her employees, she’d be well on her way to securing the motive behind the murder. She zoomed in on the house. She wouldn’t want the people who lived there to catch her on their
land, that
was for sure. But was she any safer staying in
Portland
?

Mitzy switched the maps program over to driving directions, plugged her current location in, and then sent the map to the printer.

She searched the work site for Alonzo but couldn’t find him.

She toyed with the idea of putting extra effort into finding him. She could call him or find one of the guys with a walkie and get a hold of him.
And then what?
Then, Mitzy knew, he would tell her she was crazy and stop her from driving across the state today. She shut down her computer, folded it and put it into her Birken bag. Then she picked the driving directions off the printer. If she left now she could make it to the address from the box, take some pictures of what she suspected was growing on the
BLM
land, grab a nap and make it home tomorrow. It sounded like a much better way to spend her time than sitting in the trailer. She assumed she’d be perfectly safe, so long as the murderer stayed in
Portland
.

She dug her phone out of her purse. She knew the smart thing would be to let someone know where she was going. After dialing Alonzo and then deleting the numbers, she picked Joan. She let a sigh of relief escape when she got Joan’s voicemail.

“If anyone asks, I’m headed to
Idaho
. I’ll be back tomorrow. You know the address I’m going to.” She hung up and smiled. Now she had something worthwhile to do.

After getting in the car but before she drove off she checked her purse. She had plenty of cash and her cell phone, conveniently with camera. She had a water bottle and a tank of gas. She revved her engine, grinned, and left.

Alonzo checked his watch. It was time to hook up with Mitzy. She was driving him crazy with her boredom. Taking some time away from selling houses had been a stupid idea. If she had some work to do…he stopped his train of thought. If she had some work to do she’d be all over town with who knows who. Until they found out who killed Lara and who was threatening Mitzy he’d rather just put up with her bored whining.

He was almost to the trailer when he saw the flash of red pull up to the driveway. He squinted. The Miata hit the road with a squeal. He ran for his pickup, got in and followed her. She was about a couple of blocks ahead but stopped at a light when Alonzo pulled into the street. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed her number. No answer.

Where does she think she’s going? He asked himself. She pulled down a side road and he was able to get a few cars behind her. He hit redial. Why would she not answer his call?

Mitzy only had a few stops planned for her cross state trip. At her first stop, around dinnertime, she would call Alonzo. She would let him know she was safe. In her plan she’d drive through the night, pull into town in the morning, grab a bite and find the address. She’d hunt the
BLM
land until she found what she was looking for. She’d get the pictures and then get back to town.

She debated staying in
Boise
. It would be easy to hide there, but she decided to stick close to the address she had—
Magic
Valley
. That way she could get in and out.

Drive one night, hunt one day, and sleep it off in some nice hotel. Then drive home with evidence that Fiona was smuggling drugs through her dress shop. A little evidence would go a long way, she hoped. If the shipments were drugs, then the bonuses were pay offs for silence or sales commissions on the drugs, and that would easily explain the money. With marijuana closing in on $300 an ounce according to Mitzy’s morning of googling, Fiona could easily move enough
product
to keep the employees in the pink. Since Lara had been an employee of Fiona’s for six years she had time to save up that big down payment.

Crossing
Oregon
on Interstate 84 was one of the most beautiful trips Mitzy had ever made. The views in the Columbia River Gorge were rivaled only by the parts of
New Zealand
she’d seen in The Lord of the Rings movies. But once she hit
The Dalles
and was on the other side of the
Cascade Mountains
she really felt the beauty of the landscape. The land was open and the skies were clear. Somewhere far behind her was a killer, and he had no idea where she was. The relief was palpable.

The dismal winter rains were behind her as well. She was in the rain shadow of the
Cascade Mountains
, the high desert, she had heard it called. The hillsides across the river looked hard and cold, their grasses bleached white in the season. The tops of the rolling hills were crusted with snow. But even in December the sun was shining, and the sunlight through the windshield warmed her face.

She had been saying for weeks that she needed to get away. Her instinct had been right. The blue skies, the snow in the distance, even the sun itself was working its holiday magic. Her shoulders were relaxed and her fears were floating away. Whatever she was going to find in the woods near
Magic Valley
,
Idaho
, was going to save her.

Once she was out of town and over the Cascade Mountains Mitzy had expected to have the roads to herself. But she didn’t. It was evidence of an exploding population, or of the northern migration of Californians. It was evidence of something. There were just a lot of cars. She was still an hour from her first stop though, so she hit play on her tape deck and sat back in her seat. A little old school DC Talk would get her through the next hour of driving.

It felt good to be flying down the highway toward the answers. But one question still loomed large, if the drugs were somehow behind the murder, what had Lara done to get herself killed?

She slowed down through some construction and checked all of her mirrors. A few cars back she could see a big vehicle. The sun was setting so whatever was driving behind her was backlit and she couldn’t tell much about it. But she felt like that same silhouette had been in the background since
Portland
. Everyone drove big cars in
Eastern Oregon
though. It had to be a coincidence.

Alonzo was
a
only a couple of cars behind Mitzy when his gas light came on. The open road lay in front of him, looking endless. He checked the clock, checked his review,
checked
his phone for messages. He checked anything he could think of to ignore the gas light. But he couldn’t change it. He could go about ten miles on the fumes. The last gas station he had seen was about 15 miles behind him. “Okay Lord,” he said aloud, “Mitzy is headed who knows where and I really don’t know why. Please keep track of her and get me some gas.” It wasn’t the humblest prayer he had ever said, but it was heartfelt. If something happened to her while he was dead on the road or pulled over getting gas he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

“Don’t go there.” He spoke aloud again, trying to give his fear back to God. “She’s in God’s hands.” He tried to believe it, and he tried to believe he’d pass a gas station in the next ten miles.

He hated to do it, despite his continued praying and his real desire to trust God, but he pulled into
Arlington
to get gas. He filled his tank up and hoped one tank would get him wherever they were going.

Mitzy’s Miata was long gone when he made it back to the highway. The road before him was long and straight and there was only one way to go. He decided to keep his eye on gas stations in the hopes of catching up with her.