Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse (4 page)

“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 host’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.

“Just call Backman. She’ll take care of you.”

“I’ve tried that. But her assistant just took a message and Backman didn’t call back.”

“Have you thought about going down to the FBI headquarters?” Ben asked.

Of course, she had thought of that. She smoothed her hand down the knee of her black linen slacks. She should go right now. Her chest squeezed tight as a little shot of panic sped up her spine. She could go right now; however, the FBI headquarters in downtown
Portland
,
Oregon
were not the friendliest place to visit.

The FBI had not welcomed her with open arms in the past. She had gone anyway because the problem with the inn had been too big for her to handle alone.

If she thought that problem had been big, it had nothing on murder. Still, she hesitated. If Backman wasn’t going to take her calls, she probably was not going to be excited about an uninvited visit either. Mitzy tapped her lavender fingernail on the screen of her phone. She’d have to go about this sideways.

Ben looked at his watch. He raised an eyebrow at Mitzy.

Mitzy picked her phone up and dialed the number to the inn. She held up her pointer finger to indicate Ben had to wait. She wasn’t ready to be alone in the office yet.

Ben knelt down beside the computer equipment and began to piece it together.

“Buongiorno, The Miramontes, this is Carmella speaking, how can I help you?” Mitzy could hear the smile in Carmella’s voice.

“Hey, it’s me. I need your help.”

“Whatever you need.”

“Can you call the number you have for the FBI, the one you have to use to report any unusual activity at the inn?” Mitzy asked.

“Well…” Carmella stretched the word out, “Did something unusual happen at the inn last night?” she finally asked.

“Okay, this might be a stretch, but hear me out. It is unusual for me to take a room at the inn, right? But I had to last night because of a murder at the condo. Could you call them and report it? It would sound better coming from you. And could you see if Detective Backman would call me?”

“I’ll do it for you. I haven’t had anything to report at all since they gave me their directions and the phone number to call. I might as well call this in and see if they really care. Just don’t get your hopes up. I don’t think the Feds are as concerned as you would like them to be.”

“I can agree with that. Would you call me back when you are done and tell me how it went?”

“Of course, of course.
I can’t do it this minute though,” Carmella said. “I’m checking in a wedding party tonight. They booked rooms for a bachelorette weekend party, and rooms for traveling family as well. They booked the dining room with an outside caterer for the rehearsal and they have pictures for the wedding day. They got the honeymoon suite—but not for the bride and groom! The parents of the bride booked it for themselves! It’s a big week.”

The words were like a buzz in Mitzy’s ear. She wanted to be excited about the business boom but it sounded trivial compared to murder. She managed a weak, “That’s terrific.”

“It’s definitely our biggest week yet. And if it goes well it sets us up for what you wanted in the first place. Listen though, your room is safe for as long as you want it, but I’ve got someone booked into Al’s room tomorrow night. He can stay in the office or upstairs in a junior room, though, if he still wants to.
Or in yours, whatever.”

Mitzy let the hint slide. “Thanks Carmella. I’ll at least stay one more night. I’ve got to pull myself together. I’m not ready to be all alone yet, but I can’t play a baby forever. Okay. Well, you’re busier than I am now. Let me know if you need me to come in and help.”

“We’re good. Best staff in the world.”

“Well. Okay then. Call me back though.”

“Will do.
Ciao,” Carmella said.

Mitzy kept her phone in her hand after the call ended. She turned it back and forth on the surface of the desk while she thought about what to do next. She still needed to feed the cats at her parents’ house.

“Pestering the FBI won’t help,” Ben said.

“I won’t pester. I just think they need to know about this.”

“Of course, and you’re the only one that can tell them.”

Ben hit a button on the computer tower and a deafening whirr filled the room.

“What is that?” Mitzy put her hands over her ears.

“Your server,” Ben said, turning it back off. “That’s the noise from the fans you have to run for your server. And you wondered why Free Geek was willing to donate this all to you.”

“It’s so loud. Computers don’t make noise.”

“Used computers do.” Ben nudged the massive tower with his toe. “You don’t really want any of this stuff. You want to give me a couple thousand from petty cash and let me do it all.”

Mitzy frowned at the pile of computer junk that had been delivered to her office. “They weren’t trying to cheat me, were they?”

“No,” Ben said.
“Absolutely not.
Those guys are awesome. But…while they weren’t trying to cheat you I’d say they saw you coming. If you give me the two grand and let me set up your server I can get all of this to the electronics graveyard.”

Mitzy scrunched up her mouth and looked at her pretty platter. She could swear her blood pressure went down as she looked at the serene scene.

She took a deep breath through her nose. “Yes, okay.” She wanted to tell him he had to stay at the office for the rest of the day, but that felt ridiculous. “I’ll send you with the business debit card. Go wherever you need to go. Is there anyway you can come back later this afternoon?”

“Nope, client work. I’ve got some deadlines. I’ll come set it up as soon as I can.”

Mitzy bit her lip and nodded. If she wanted to keep the fear at bay she’d have to keep busy.
“Fine.
See you as soon as you can get it done.” She looked outside at the heavy rain filled clouds that hung low in the sky. “And thanks.”

The office was quiet again and the atmosphere moody. What she needed was a plan. Her number one goal was to stay alive. She knew she stood a good chance of it if she could keep from being alone when the murderer realized he had smashed the wrong head. The second goal was to discover, if she could, that no one wanted to smash her head in.

She stood up, took a parting glance at her new platter, and left. She could figure out the steps of her plan while she was on the move.

Her parking lot was deserted. Even Bean Me up Scotty’s, the coffee hut, was shuttered. Driving off gave her a sense of relief. When her phone jangled in her pocket she pulled over. She made sure to take a parking spot at a busy gas station. She was alone in her car, but surrounded by a lot of witnesses. The call came from the inn.

“Mitzy Neuhaus,” she said, trying to pull together a smile, even though it was just Carmella on the phone.

“Hey. I talked to the feds.”

“Great news!
What did they say?”

“Well, they didn’t say thank you, but they didn’t say I was pestering them either. They even asked some questions. What time you found the body, kind of normal stuff. Then they said goodbye.”

“Did you talk to Backman?” Mitzy knew how Backman worked. She pinned her hopes on getting Detective Backman on this case. Mitzy trusted Backman now, even if the detective didn’t like her.

“You’ll never believe this! I asked for Backman but she’s not there now.”

Mitzy’s heart dropped to her knees.
On assignment?
Out of reach? She didn’t like the sound of that.

“She’s on her honeymoon!”
Carmella with a chuckle.

It didn’t register. “What?” Mitzy asked.

“She’s on her honeymoon. She just got married two weeks ago and will be gone until the New Year. She’s in
Hawaii
of all places.”

Dry, humorless, heartless, cold and calculating Detective Backman, Mitzy could see handling a murder investigation. She could not see her lounging on the beach for a lengthy tropical honeymoon.

“I’m sorry. But that’s absurd,” Mitzy said.

“Don’t be unfair. Detectives can fall in love.”

“Yes, well.”

“Detective Collins is still in town. I suppose if they feel like getting involved he’ll get in touch with you.”

Mitzy could hear voices echoing in the background.

“Okay, it sounds like you’re needed. I’ll let you go. Thanks for calling, Carmella.”

“No problem, See you tonight.”

Before she pulled out of her parking spot she called Tina, the buyer’s rep she had worked with for the deal on her condo.

“Hey Tina, this is Mitzy, do you have a minute?”

“I’m swamped right now. Can you call me back in twenty minutes?” Tina said, talking fast.

“I can. But I could do a late lunch too.”

“Perfect. Let’s meet at the cafe by your office, I’ll be in your part of town.”

“Do you tweet, Tina?” Mitzy asked.

“No, I don’t. Listen, I can’t talk now. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“See you at
noon
.” Mitzy hung up and pulled back out into the road. She wanted to get to the bottom of this murder so she intended to work it like selling a house. She’d give it her full attention until she could say mystery solved.

Back at the office, Mitzy pulled out the sales contract for her condo. Lunch with Tina was in a few minutes and she wanted to remind herself of the details of the sale.

Lara Capet had qualified for a traditional loan with a down payment of twenty percent. Mitzy ran her finger down the page and found the sales price, though she hadn’t forgotten it. Twenty percent down on $250,000 was a lot of money for most people in their twenties. How did a kid like Lara save up that much?

As Mitzy turned to the last page of the contract, Tina knocked on the office door and let herself in.

“I’m sorry I just can’t do lunch today after all,” Tina said. She fidgeted with her purse.

“Can you give me five minutes? I want to talk,” Mitzy said. “You’ve heard about Lara?” she asked.

“Yes. My card was in her pocket so the police called me to identify her. It was so horrible.”

“It feels wrong of me to bring business up at a time of tragedy like this. But there is at least one thing I need to do.”

“I know how you feel, but business does go on whether or not it feels right.”

“I wanted to give this back to you,” Mitzy said, handing her an envelope. “It’s the earnest money check. Also, I wanted to ask if you knew why she was in the house that night. We hadn’t closed and she didn’t have a key.”

Tina made eye contact with Mitzy and nodded. Her eyes were drawn and tired looking. “Do you remember the open house she came to?”

“Of course I do,” Mitzy said. “You all made the offer that afternoon.”

“Do you remember that your keys went missing?”

“Yes…that was one of the more memorable moments. The whole set went missing from my purse.”

“I think Lara may have stolen them.”

Mitzy sat back. “Why would she do that?”

“While I worked with her several things went missing. There were a few times when selling agents contacted me after Lara and I viewed homes.” Tina pulled a chair up and sat down. She leaned forward, “Once some small knickknacks had gone missing. The second homeowner contacted me after a set of keys from the key rack by the door had gone missing. To be honest, I did not see how it could be a big deal. Everyone loses keys.”

Mitzy nodded, she could see the connection already.

“The first call, about the knick-knacks,” Tina continued, “didn’t seem like my problem either. Some potential buyer may have taken them, but at that point I had no reason to mistrust Lara. Then there was another call. And then your keys went missing.  When my thumb drive disappeared off my desk I finally believed it was her. She was probably a kleptomaniac. But what can you do about that? I did not have any ideas. That was just last week. You had signed the offer, so I would be done with her. I know I wasn’t being proactive.”

“I understand,” Mitzy said. “You had hardly realized the problem was real before she was murdered.”

“I wish I felt like that excused it. The point is: I believe she had the keys to your house and that’s how she got in.”

“Oh wait,” Mitzy tried to give a reassuring smile. “I don’t think you have to feel so bad after all.”

“Why?”

“My keys weren’t on her person when she died.”

“Was the deadbolt locked when you got there?” Tina asked.

“It was,” Mitzy said with a nod.

“Then whoever killed her must have taken the keys.”

Mitzy’s lifted her hand to her throat and let it hover there. “That keychain,” she said, “had my office keys, my house,
my
parents’ house.
Even my car.
It had everything on it.”

“Then let’s hope the killer threw them out so they couldn’t be evidence.”

“Yes, let’s hope so,” Mitzy said. “I have another question. It’s none of my business, I know.”

“I don’t mind, Mitzy. I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting to know more about Lara. Now that she’s gone … I find I wish I knew more about her as well.”

“What kind of work did Lara do?” Mitzy asked.

“She worked at a little boutique on
Hawthorne Street
called Neveah’s Wardrobe.”

Mitzy tilted her head and frowned.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Tina said, “But don’t ask me. I don’t know where she got that down payment from. She was adamant that she was doing this on her own.”

“When she was house shopping did she ever bring anyone with her?
Her mom or dad?
A friend?”

“Never.
I asked if she wanted anyone’s second opinion and she was very offended. She was doing it on her own, and that was the end of the matter.”

“Do you think she could have stolen the money?” Mitzy asked.

“I don’t think being a
klepto
is the same thing as stealing large sums of money. Nothing she pocketed was worth anything. The house that lost its keys was never robbed. I think she was sick, but not bad.”

Mitzy sighed. “I wonder what brought her to the
condo?
Why was she even there?”

“I wish I knew, Mitzy. I wish she had asked me about going there. I wish that she hadn’t gone alone. I wish with all of my heart that I knew why she had gone there. That I had known she was going there.” Tina’s face flushed and the tip of her nose turned red. She turned away from Mitzy for a moment and blinked her eyes. “I really wish I could stay and talk more but I am swamped. Please forgive my rushing out.”

Tina stood up and put the earnest money check in her purse. “I’ll shred the check.”

Mitzy nodded. “I think I’ll follow you out.”  She locked the office door but wondered
,
if the killer has my keys, what’s the point in locking up?
She needed to get a locksmith to every property she owned today. And she needed to take a trip to Neveah’s Wardrobe.

How did Lara save up all the money she put down on the condo? Mitzy chewed on that question as she drove. Retail didn’t pay well and Lara wasn’t old enough to have just saved that whole down payment. Tina had been confident that Lara had the full 20% down. She wasn’t borrowing it; it wasn’t a gift from family.

Lara was twenty-five years old, worked in a dress shop on
Hawthorne St.
and had fifty-thousand dollars in the bank. It just didn’t compute. Mitzy decided to drive to Neveah’s Wardrobe and check out the store itself. Maybe seeing it would explain how Lara had built up her wealth.

Mitzy pulled her Miata in front of an old craftsman style house on a side street a few blocks away from the shop. She eyed the house. It needed a roof and could use some landscaping. It had laundry hanging on the porch. The house two doors down
was
for sale. Mitzy longed to knock on the door of the laundry house and explain to them how neighborly it would be if they just cleaned up a little. She shook her head. No time today. It
rankled
her to think of the dollars the sellers would lose because of that laundry line two doors down, but she couldn’t do anything about it now.

She beeped her locks and walked towards
Hawthorne
, the hippy heart of
Southeast Portland
. Artists and free thinkers gathered here to live, commune, create, and eat
Coney Island
hot dogs. Suburban moms visited for the charming shops and a taste of the quirky that gave
Portland
its flavor. Mitzy liked
Hawthorne
, but she didn’t really fit in with the artsy
Hawthorne
crowd.

The shop Lara had worked at was in a strip of shops across the street from the bank and next door to a vegan bakery. The smell of fresh baked bread was to-die-for. Mitzy breathed deep as she took a moment in front of the shop door to plan her investigation. She wanted to price the clothes, gauge the busyness of the location, and chat with the other staff about Lara. Who was Lara while she was at work? Moreover, did they know who Lara was when she wasn’t at work?

Mitzy opened the door and a little bell jingled.

No one appeared to greet her.

The store was dusky feeling, despite the overabundance of lamps. Massive chandeliers hung from the drop ceiling. The removable panels were painted black. Floor lamps clustered in every corner. They looked to be cast offs of any time or style but all painted burgundy with gold details picked out. Mitzy wanted to like it but found the overall effect cheap. The masses of hanging and standing lights did nothing to brighten the interior. Cold, flickering commercial fluorescents hung from the ceiling as well, fighting with the warm colors and rich fabrics of the interior.

Black and burgundy velvet draped the walls, and fabric fell in deep folds,
puddling
on waist high shelves. The shelves were stacked with merchandise, some candles, jewelry, hats and things. They looked dusty and untouched.

The racks of clothes matched the half-hearted gothic feel of the store. The winter line at Neveah’s Wardrobe was heavy on wide whale corduroy, velvets, and puffy sleeves. Mitzy picked up the sleeve of a corduroy jacket. It had five mother-of-pearl buttons on the cuff and puffed sleeves that would satisfy even Anne of Green Gables. The handwritten price tag hung from a gold colored thread.
$350.

It was a high end line catering to the dramatic. She pulled the hanger out a ways and checked the label. The label said Alice McNinch. The name was familiar but the clothes didn’t look familiar. Mitzy wondered if the store was a single label store or if
Alice
was one of many who designed for Neveah’s Wardrobe. And was
Alice
local talent? Is that why the name seemed familiar? She let the jacket hanger swing back into its place on the rack.

Mitzy turned to a rack of dresses behind her.
Floor length, empire waist with long sleeves.
The dresses came in ashy gray, black, and pink. Black satin edging trimmed the pink dresses but the gray and black versions were monochromatic. She checked the label.
Also Alice McNinch.
If
Alice
made the clothes, who was Neveah?
The owner?

A small woman with red curls piled high on her head and black glasses slipping down her nose, bustled out of a door at the back of the store. Mitzy looked at her and smiled but the woman didn’t acknowledge her.

Mitzy moved to a rack of winter coats with faux fur trim. She checked the label first. They were something called Italian Coffee. So it wasn’t a single designer shop. The tag on the floor length coat said $1,100 but the car coat was only $750. Perhaps it was possible to make a good living here. But then, it was Saturday afternoon and Mitzy was the only one in the store despite good foot traffic outside. So maybe it wasn’t easy.

Finally the woman who had entered the room looked at Mitzy. “Can I start a dressing room for you?” she asked.

Put off by being ignored, Mitzy decided to skip the subterfuge. “How long had Lara Capet worked here?” she asked.

The woman’s mouth dropped open slightly and bobbed there for a moment. She held a long string of pearls in her fingers and rubbed them back and forth. “Lara? Dear Lara had been here for years,” she said finally.

“How many years?”
Mitzy asked. She walked to the register and faced the redhead.

“Well…I…she had been here almost from the beginning.” The lady dabbed her eyes with the lace cuff of her shirt with one hand and worried the pearls with the other.

“Was this her only job? Was she a student? What was she like as an employee?
Careful?
Trustworthy?”
Mitzy leaned on the counter top, hovering over the register, in the lady’s personal space.

The redhead stepped back. Her mouth bobbed open like a fish and she shook her head a little. “Who are you?” she finally asked.

“I’m Mitzy Neuhaus.”

“I have such a hard time talking about dear Lara. I really don’t think I can answer your questions.” She dabbed at her eyes again.

A tall thin man in Buddy Holly glasses stepped out of the same back door. He hurried to the redhead. His jeans were low on his skinny hips and held up with a studded belt. He had a crisp plaid shirt tucked into his pants and carefully disarranged black hair. “What’s up, Fiona,” he murmured to the redhead. He gave Mitzy a dirty look. “We’re all really devastated right now,” he said. “And I don’t care if you are Miss Marple. You can’t come in here and badger Fiona.” He squeezed the redhead’s shoulders. Fiona appeared old enough to be his mother. He stood with his feet apart and leaned forward somewhat aggressively as though he was protecting her.