Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 04 - Frozen Assets (18 page)

“Where do you want to go?” Mitzy felt a little twinge of envy. She had wanted to be a missionary when she was a kid, but that was before she had discovered real estate.

“Somewhere unreached, you know? Somewhere where the gospel is still really new.” Jane sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

Mitzy frowned. “It smells like smoke.”  

Jane trailed the sheet after her as they followed the smell out the door. A thin gray sliver of smoke curled from under the laundry room door.

“Run downstairs,” Mitzy said. “Grab Karina and get out, okay?”

“Is anyone else here?” Jane glanced around the hall.

“No, it’s just the three of us. Get outside with Karina. I’m going to see if I can put it out before it spreads.” Mitzy pulled open the door with a trembling hand.

Jane followed her into the laundry room.

The smoke was coming from behind the dryer.

Mitzy smacked the dial on the dryer to turn it off. The room was filling with smoke pretty fast. She pressed her hand over her mouth, and dug through the cupboards looking for a fire extinguisher.

Jane ducked under Mitzy and shoved the sheet she was holding into the utility sink. She soaked it with cold water.

Mitzy’s heart pounded against her ribs. She pulled the dryer away from the wall and revealed the hot, red flames that licked the corrugated silver dryer hose. Jane leaned over the dryer and threw the wet sheet on top of the flames.

“Thanks—but go!” Mitzy pushed Jane toward the door.

Jane pulled the door shut behind her. A small fire extinguisher was hanging from the back of it.

Mitzy wrapped her hands around the cold metal canister.

The wet sheet had smothered the flames inside the house, but black smoke was still seeping from under the sheet. She wanted to put the fire out from the other side of the dryer vent, if she could. A rush of adrenaline pumped through her. She could handle a little fire like this.

She ran back to the bedroom and let herself onto the Juliet balcony from where Arnold had been pulled to his death.

Just to the left of the iron railing, smoke trickled out from behind a tall, thin cypress tree that brushed the half-timbered siding.

Mitzy leaned over the rail. Just the toes of her Uggs touched the balcony floor. She ignored the dizziness that swept over her and pulled the branches away from the wall.

Smoke poured out of the dryer vent that had been hidden from her view before. She aimed the extinguisher into the smoke and pulled the trigger.

Foam covered the plastic vent screen, but didn’t seem to get inside. Mitzy leaned closer. Her huge belt buckle hooked on the rail as she balanced on her stomach, letting her feet come off the floor. She scratched at the foam-covered screen until it popped off the wall and fell to the ground. She took a deep breath and pulled the trigger again, spraying straight into the vent until the miniature home fire extinguisher fizzled out.

She looked from the wall to the sliding glass door and down again to the wrought iron fence that had “caught” Arnold. She was tempted to jump from the balcony, but the fire had been small, and the idea of Arnold skewered on the fence was still as clear as a bell.

She let herself back in, but before she ran downstairs, she checked the laundry room.

The fire was out.

Mitzy let out a long breath. The fire probably wasn’t Jane’s fault—what housekeeper checks the dryer vent before turning the machine on?

Mitzy set the fire extinguisher on the counter and joined Karina and Jane in the front yard.

“I had all of the ductwork, even the dryer vent, cleaned two weeks before we put the house on the market, Mitzy. There’s just no way that it could have caught fire on its own.” Karina’s face was pinched like she had eaten something painfully bitter.

Mitzy eyed the balcony, a sad reality dawning on her. “You mentioned that Arnold had a life insurance policy on you…”

“Yes. And a policy on the house.” Karina shaded her eyes with her hand.

Jane rested her hand on Karina’s elbow. “Would you like to sit down?” Her voice was gentle, and Mitzy’s heart seemed to slow down just listening to her.

Karina nodded. She shivered in the bright but freezing day. “I don’t think he wanted to kill me.”

“Karina, what do you mean he had an insurance policy on the house?” Mitzy rubbed her eyes. These were the little details she ought to have known long ago.

“He holds—held—the mortgage, so he has an insurance policy on it. Surely you knew.”

“I knew you had a small sum to pay off from the sale. I did not know you owed that to your ex-husband.”

“I owe it to his company. They built the home.”

“Explain, if you have the energy, why there is a mortgage on it?”

Karina sighed. “Why not? Why pay for something now when you can put it off forever? I think that was the root of all of his financial troubles. He thought he would make millions of dollars indefinitely, so he owed two dollars for every dollar he earned for as long as I knew him.”

“And so if he destroyed your home, he could claim the mortgage insurance on it at the least?” Mitzy wanted to believe that Arnold had been after that rather than the two-million-dollar policy on his ex-wife, but it was hard to swallow. For Karina’s peace of mind, though, she’d roll with it. “Shall we call the police?” Mitzy’s finger hovered over the face of her phone, ready to dial.

Karina sighed. “What would it matter? Kjell’s been arrested for the murder already. I’m sure he’s told the police what they were up to.”

“What if this Kjell guy didn’t know what Arnold was going to do until he got him all the way to the balcony?” Jane leaned forward, her eyes narrowed like she was onto something. “I mean, it’s pretty clear that the dryer vent had been tampered with—you said yourself you had it cleaned. I wonder…”

“Hmm?” Karina’s face had a faraway look.

“I wonder if Kjell created the ‘accident’ to prevent Arnold from following through. I mean, what if Kjell really isn’t such a bad guy? What if he was trying to stop Arnold?”

“Why wouldn’t he have come forward right away? Or even called an ambulance?” Mitzy wished there could be one honest, good person in this mess, but she couldn’t make herself believe that Kjell was an unsung hero.

“If Kjell had turned up to help Arnold with a piece of work in the very early morning, and then found out what Arnold was planning, he might have been shocked into doing something rash to stop him.” Jane’s words sped up as she laid out her theory. “And then, when that something rash ended up killing Arnold, I could see why he wanted to run from the whole thing instead of come forward. I hardly pay attention to the news, but even I’ve seen the name Arnold English on the Internet more than once since he was discovered.”

“Don’t let handsome men fool you in this life, Jane,” Karina said. “Just because he looks like an angel doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.”

Jane’s face fell, but not just in sadness. She looked irritated.

Mitzy could relate. Being condescended to stunk.

“He made a big point of telling his sister that Arnold was evil. Not just a jerk, but really evil. You might be right about this, Jane. It absolutely could have happened that way.” Mitzy stood up to go. “Karina, I understand that you don’t want to call the police about this, but you had better at least call Zachary. You two need to work out what you are going to do about the damage to the wall upstairs.”

“I suppose so.” She didn’t move.

Jane stood up. “I’ve got to get to my next client. Call if you need me to come by another time, okay?”

Karina inclined her head in a tiny motion that at least indicated she had heard.

Jane waved and ran off to a ratty little car parked down the street.

“She’s a nice kid,” Mitzy said.

Karina shrugged. “Weren’t we all at twenty?” She took a deep breath. “I’ll call Zachary. You get along, too. I suppose I’d better start dealing with this mess on my own now.”

Mitzy offered her a hand. “You aren’t alone. You’ve got friends and Zachary and Deanna.”

“Thanks.” Karina looked past Mitzy toward Livia’s house and the views of Portland beyond. “I’ll see what I can do.”

***

Mitzy cooked a real dinner for Alonzo that night. Not leftovers, not take out, and not something his mom had made and left in their fridge.

He poked it with his fork. “Is this some kind of hippy food?”

“Hippy food? It’s Greek. Why would I make hippy food?”

Alonzo stroked Mitzy’s slightly faded but still illustrated arm. “I dunno, Mitz. Maybe it’s a mid-life crisis?”

Mitzy laughed. “It should be all the way gone by New Year’s.”

“So, Greek food, huh?”

Yup.” Mitzy scooped up a forkful. “I think it’ll taste better than it looks.”

Alonzo eyed the towering stack of pots and pans on the counter. “Thank you.” He smiled, his face crinkling into irresistible lines of happiness.

“Don’t thank me until after you survive. It is moussaka, and I’ve never made it before.” Mitzy was half-teasing him. She hadn’t ever made it before, but she knew she was a great cook when she bothered.

Alonzo gave it a test bite. “Hey, this is good.”

Mitzy smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

“You should cook more often.”

“I might, since you’re giving me the kitchen of my dreams.”

“I love you, Mitzy, and I want you to be happy.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you, too. And… if you don’t want to remodel and sell your grandma’s old house… if you want to keep this place the same and put renters in it, whatever. I can compromise.”

He took another scoop full of moussaka. “Keep cookin’ like this, and you can do whatever you want to my houses.”

“Houses?” She poked her dinner. “This one and the dream house?”

“All of them, babe, not just those two.”

Mitzy dropped her fork. “How many houses do you have that I don’t know about?”

Alonzo grinned. “Just the other three. No big deal. Someday we should probably sit down and combine all of our assets.”

“Or at least disclose them.” Mitzy toyed with her fork and suppressed a laugh. “Any other secrets you’re keeping from me?”

“None that pop to mind.” His plate was almost clear. “We have kept pretty busy this year, haven’t we? Why don’t we have a hot date next week? Just you and me and our investment portfolios.”

Mitzy sighed with a smile. “You say the most romantic things.” But, she thought, better to get a late start learning exactly what her new husband had set aside for a rainy day than to find out that his rainy day plans included setting her house on fire. “I’m a lucky woman, Alonzo Miramontes.”

“Yup. You are.”

Now Available!
Good, Clean Murder

A Plain Jane Mystery

There had been a storm in the night and twigs and blossoms littered the long sweep of concrete front steps at the hundred-year-old stone mansion the Crawford family called home. Jane Adler had two hours to get the six-thousand square foot house whipped into shape. Then she was off to her next client to do the same thing. Jane was alone on the cool spring morning. The neighborhood was a quiet, haven of sunshine and fresh green gardens. She wished she could trade jobs with the gardener today, just so she could stay outside and enjoy the long-awaited sunshine.

On her way back to the front door she watered the early hyacinth and late crocus in the mossy urns that lined the steps. She fished the errant petals out of the bubbling fountain, and gave the brass fish that leapt out of the splashing water a quick polish.

Spring had finally come, and with it, her last term at Harvest School of the Bible. Jane was one semester away from graduation. Then she would fly away to the mission field. There were a few hurdles in front of her still: joining the right organization, fundraising, convincing her parents she was ready to leave the country for good.

Jane dusted the lid of the copper newspaper box and flipped it open. The morning paper was still lying inside.

Had the paperboy been late? Jane leaned around the pillar of the front portico to look down the street. She didn’t see any newspapers lying on the vast front lawns, but odds were most of the homeowners had boxes like the Crawfords’.

Jane turned the other way, but didn’t see the paperboy on his scooter. She expected as much. He had to be sitting in school by nine in the morning.

Jane carried the newspaper around to the back of the house with her broom and her watering can.

The special directions for today’s work would be waiting by the door in the mudroom. She prayed it wouldn’t be a Cinderella day. Cleaning the rugs, drapes, and fireplaces would destroy her tight schedule.

Jane swept the back steps, wiped the mildew from the windowsills, and used her rag to polish the brass porch light before she let herself back into the house.

As Jane racked the outdoor broom, her cell phone rang.

Caller id showed it was her roommate, Samantha. She sighed.

“Hey, Sam.” Jane slipped her Bluetooth around her ear so she could talk and clean at the same time.

“Get soy milk, okay?”

“And when should I do that? At nine tonight when my class gets out?” Jane stared at the bulletin board. The usual slip of paper was missing.

“Oh, are you doing that again?”

“Going to school? Yes.” Jane dropped to her knees and fished under the decorative storage bench for the list of instructions. She couldn’t feel anything so she pulled the bench away from the wall. The scraping sound on the slate floor made her skin crawl. “Was that it? Milk?”

“Soy milk, Jane. I’m lactose intolerant.” It sounded like Sam was chomping gum while she spoke. Jane grimaced.

“Did you see the paper this morning?”

“Funny you should mention the paper. It was still in the box when I got here.” Her directions weren’t under the bench, but she’d been cleaning the Crawfords’ home for two years now and knew the Monday schedule like the back of her hand. She knew everything except the special little things that were usually left on the bulletin board.

“Mr. Crawford didn’t have it lying out for all to see this morning?”

“What do you mean? Is he in it? Or one of his kids?” Jane shoved the bench back against the wall. She stood up and looked around the room. Nothing. If she could get Sam off the phone, she could text Pamela just to be sure there wasn’t something extra she needed to get done.

“Do you have it handy? Turn to the business section.”

Jane carried the newspaper into the kitchen. She hit the lights on the way in and sniffed. Something was missing. She sniffed again. Coffee. Had no one made coffee this morning? She twisted the lid off the coffee carafe. Empty. No coffee. No cups in the sink. No signs of life.

Jane gave the carafe lid a tight twist and put it back on the coffee maker. Then she slid onto a stool and opened the newspaper on the kitchen island. “Sorry. Were you still talking? I got distracted.”

“Yes, I was,” Sam said. “I said, get the soy milk on your way
to
school, and you said sure.”

“Not likely.”

“Did you open the paper yet?”

“Umm, hmm.”

“Front page of the business section, below the fold.”

Jane turned to the page. Near the bottom, she found the headline that said, “Big Bob Crawford Bows out of Burger Business.”

“What is this?” Jane ran her eyes across the short article. Bob Crawford was closing the chain of burger restaurants his father had opened in 1950. He apologized for how his family business had contributed to the obesity epidemic in America.

“Wow. I knew his heart attack had affected him, but I never expected this.” Jane’s heart sank a little. This meant the end of free dinners on the days she cleaned the Crawford house.

“When you see him, ask him what he’s planning on doing now. Maybe he’ll get into the smoothie business.”

“I can’t ask him that, Sam. It’s none of my business and he’s my boss.”

“You and your boundaries. If I were in your position, I’d ask.”

“Like you’d ever clean houses for a living.” Jane scratched at a blemish on the granite top. A dinner spill, maybe. “I bet this is why things are so strange around here this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t leave any directions, or make coffee. All the lights are out. It’s just a little weird. Maybe closing the family business has put them off of their schedule.”

“No coffee? Poor you.”

“No kidding. Hey, I’m going to let you go. I’ve got to get this house put together before they get back.”

“Fine, but see if you can get Jake to tell you more about this.”

“If I see him, I’ll ask, okay?” Jane couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Jake Crawford and didn’t expect to see him anytime soon. Under those circumstances, it was an easy promise to make.

“Good enough. Get the soy milk, yeah?”

“Nada. I’ve got work to do.”

“What evs. You’re a rotten roommate.” Sam hung up.

Jane frowned at her phone. Sam’s attitude problem was nothing new, but losing Roly Burgers was quite a blow. Jane’s stomach grumbled. Free burgers had been a great perk.

Jane tied a pink bandana around her head to keep her wispy brown hair from shedding while she worked. Fast and thorough. She would try to make life for the Crawford family as easy as possible in the face of massive changes, but get in, get clean, and get out was her main goal.

Jane folded the newspaper back up. She set it on the kitchen desk, next to the charger station. She wondered what her dad would say when he found out about the end of the Burger with the Roly-Poly Bun. Running a Roly Burger franchise had made her parents’ early retirement possible

The Crawford family home in the exclusive Laurelhurst neighborhood of Portland and all of the lavish lifestyle that went with it was entirely thanks to the second-generation burger chain.

Jane stared out the front window. How many people would lose their jobs when the restaurants went dark? She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for them all. Portland did not need more layoffs.

After his heart attack, Bob Crawford had been morose. Depressed even. He had spent weeks on end huddled in his office, unshaven and wearing a bathrobe. Eventually he had cheered up, and it occurred to Jane that his new lease on life was probably due to the decision to quit making burgers.

Jane tried to shake off her own morose thoughts. If Bob didn’t want to make burgers any more God must have something else in store for the people who relied on him. She felt a catch in her throat. It might be true, but it was hard to believe. God let a lot of people suffer more than even the poorest of Portlanders. While she believed that God had his hand on the Roly Burger family of employees, she still felt a little sick about their impending loss of work.

Jane needed to get her mind out of the shadows. She recited the beatitudes as she made her way upstairs, in an effort to get her own attitude in order. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” She pulled out a rag and dusted the deeply-carved wooden frames that lined the staircase. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” She turned back and ran the rag down the banister. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth.”

She tried not to hurry as she rubbed the dust off the stair-rail spindles. Pamela Crawford always noticed dust on the mahogany. “Blessed are those who clean others’ dirt for they will be able to pay for their schoolbooks.”

Jane tucked her lemon-Pledge-soaked dust rag back in her apron pocket and moved on to the laundry room, the chemical citrus wafting away with her. She needed to strip the beds and get the laundry going if she was going to get out to her next house on time. On her way past the laundry room, she grabbed a hamper.

Then she stopped. Monday was laundry day. Laundry day and
payday
. The envelope full of cash was always pinned to the bulletin board with her directions. That envelope was supposed to buy her books today. Standing still with the hamper on her hip she debated. Stop now, call Pam, and ask for directions and money, or just keep working? The laundry would take two hours, whether she was paid or not, so she moved to the master bedroom. She could call Pamela after she had the first load in the machine.

Jane pushed open the bedroom door with her hip.

In a smooth set of motions perfected over her two years as a housekeeper, she set the hamper down, grabbed the end of the comforter and pulled all of the bedding off the bed. Then she looked up to grab the pillows.

Bob was still in bed.

“I am so sorry!” she whispered. She backed away from the bed.

Bob hadn’t seemed to notice her.

Heat rose to Jane’s face. What a complete moron! She should have knocked. She could have given him the chance to wake up a little. She looked away from the bed, waiting for him to speak.

He didn’t say anything.

In fact, Bob hadn’t moved a muscle when his covers had come flying off him. Surely, if a big guy like him had moved, she would have noticed.

She stepped back to the bed.

Bob was very still, and his face was pasty.

Jane’s heart thumped against her ribs, like a small, hard fist.

Bob was not well.

Her feet felt like bricks as she pulled herself across the Persian rug to the side of Bob’s bed.

He was wearing an A-line tank top—a wife-beater. His huge shoulders were covered in brown wiry hair. She had never seen Bob’s naked shoulders.

Jane placed two shaking fingertips under his jaw, and turned away.

She couldn’t feel a pulse. She moved her fingers across his thick neck, trying to find even the faint hint of life, but it wasn’t there.

Jane shoved her hand into the pocket of her jeans and yanked out her phone.
911. Must call 911.

 “Ambulance, Police, or Fire Department?” The voice of the 911 operator was steady, solid.

“Ambulance, please!”

“Where are you located?”

Jane gave the operator the address of the Crawford home.

“An ambulance will be right there. Can you stay on the line with me?”

“No, I can’t. I’ve got to call his wife.”

“I understand. We’ll be right there.”

Jane ended the call and began scrolling through her phone for Pamela’s number.

Pamela could be at the gym right now, or at the salon, or with the board of directors dealing with the business. She could be anywhere.

Jane found their daughter Phoebe Crawford’s number first and hit send.

“This is Phoebe.” Her voice was rough like she had just woken up.

“Phoebe, it’s Jane Adler. I’m at your parents’ house and your dad—” Jane’s voice broke, but she took a deep breath and continued, “I called the ambulance. I think it was another heart attack. Can you get here?”

“Slow down, what?”

“I’m at the house, and I think your dad has had another heart attack. The ambulance is on its way. Can you make it over here? Do you know where your mom is?” How did Phoebe not understand? Jane walked to the window to watch for the ambulance. Her knees felt like water.

Phoebe yawned on the other end. “That’s awful,” she said. “I had a rough one last night. Call me when he’s at the hospital and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“But I’m just the cleaner…you need to be here. Or your mom.”

“Oh, you’re
that
Jane. I wondered who this was. Call me when you know what hospital he is at and I will meet him there, okay? It’s just another heart thing. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think he’s going to be fine.” Jane saw the ambulance turn the corner, its lights spinning and siren blaring. A fire truck was right behind it.