Foreclosed: A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery (A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery, a Cozy Christian Collection) (12 page)

“But of course.” She laughed again, but it felt hollow. He used to tell her that all the time, back when they had been in love. But she knew she was too tall, gangly, and goofy looking to be on TV. “Not my own show, just a segment on the local morning show. The show that people watch while they get ready for work, or after they take their kids to school. Pardon me, but people watch HGTV to lose themselves in a fantasy or to figure out a way to fix a house problem. People watch morning shows to keep up on what’s going on in the neighborhood.”

“You’ve got this business all figured out, don’t you? You always have.” He smiled ruefully. He’d fallen in love a few times since Mitzy but it was never with someone he wanted to marry.

“I love the business. I have to know it.” 

They cleaned up their plates in relative quiet. He talked about life on the road with the show. She talked about the Victorian.

“It sounds like you really love the house,” he said, leaning on the wall by the door.

“I don’t know. I think I love what it represents. Or what it could represent. If I could get the authorities to take this kind of crime seriously, and if I could get the right person to buy the house…I just want everything to get better.” Mitzy sighed. Such dreams. What could one house really fix? What could one Realtor really fix? She knew the answer, but she hated it. “I guess the house is kind of symbolic to me. If I can make this one thing right, and all of us try to make one thing right, we can get out of this. I know I didn’t cause the house bubble to burst, but Realtors, mortgage brokers, people without a clue to reality did, and I am a part of them.” She looked past Curt, into what she wished and hoped for, but was beginning to doubt.

She was lost for the night. She needed to get down on her knees and pray, and she knew it. Whenever she thought she was capable of saving the world, it was time to get down on her knees and talk to the One who really was.

“I’ll try and get the house on TV, Mitz. Maybe that will help.” They shook hands in a friendly way and he left.

The next day dawned a bright, crisp spring morning and Mitzy was feeling optimistic. A night of prayer had a way of doing that. Nothing material had changed, but inside she remembered, at least for now, that the fate of the world wasn’t in her hands.

A few things on her agenda were looking up too. She was getting calls in the office—mostly fans of her extended radio spot, but also people with genuine real estate questions.

Some of them insisted on talking to her, but others were willing to take advice from her staff. A ringing phone gave everyone pep.

Ben had even gotten a few design jobs from people who liked her stuff at the gala.

She did a few deep breathing stretches and limbered up for what looked to be a fun, exciting day.

She had to pop into the radio station early this morning. Ostensibly, she provided twenty minutes of morning chatter with Johnny, but it often went longer and no one complained. So long as traffic and weather got their time and no commercials were shorted, she was considered a welcome guest.

Listeners seemed to like it when she put Johnny in his place, which she tried to do as little as possible.

She liked it when she could give peppy encouraging talk to families about money, real estate and keeping on in the down turn.

She always forwarded her office calls to her cell when the office was closed. It wasn’t unusual to have at least one call on the way into the station.

When her phone rang, she was flying down the highway in her Miata with the top down. She had her blue tooth head set on so she took the call. “Mitzy Neuhaus, good morning.”

The good morning came screeching to a halt.

She raced to her rental unit on
Baltimore
. She had just enough time to drive by and see the extent of the damage before she hit the radio station. She pulled into the driveway and gawked at what was before her.

The walls on the front and one side were charred and she could see in through spots. The fire fighters had put it out before it hit the roof or took down a wall in its entirety.

The fire had started the night before, while Debbie was out having dinner so she was safe, but her cat was missing.

She was a wreck when she called Mitzy. She had no idea how it had started. She felt terrible, was scared and embarrassed. She didn’t smoke or light candles, hadn’t been ironing or making coffee. She just had no idea. There was an inquiry and until then she was moving in with her sister.

Mitzy spoke to her in calm, low tones and said obviously, with no house to live in she wasn’t expected to pay the rent. She offered several platitudes about how glad she was that Debbie was safe.

But was Debbie safe?

Was it just faulty wiring, or was someone trying to hurt her?

Mitzy was hoping it was a wiring issue. Debbie worked for the Red Cross and was highly regarded as a good, kind woman. Who would want to burn her house down?

Mitzy wasn’t permitted in the house yet and didn’t have time anyway, so she drove from
Baltimore Street
to the radio station, ready for war.

She didn’t know who she’d be in war with, but pretty much everyone had better toe the line. She wasn’t ready to kick the puppy or anything that drastic. But his soft, warm, fuzziness in the sling across her chest was incongruous to her mood, so she dumped him in the dog carrier.

She would definitely be talking about stupid people who purchase and then immediately abandon pets during her time on the radio this morning. Who does that kind of thing?

The image of her burned out rental was seared in her mind’s eye. What kind of person burned up someone’s home?

It crossed her mind that someone who wanted her off of his tail about a certain house next door, might do this kind of thing.

The day didn’t get better from there. Her time on the radio dragged and she felt like a big complainer.

Johnny made a comment to the effect of ‘Mitzy the grouch’ and her cousin Oscar. But her worst moment was when she said, “It’s just too stupid for words, Johnny. People are just too stupid for words.” That was not an endearing or uplifting sentiment to be sharing on the radio.

The calls that came in to the office indicated she was right—people were stupid, but they hated to have it pointed out. Worse, the puppy piddled on the carpet in the radio booth. It stunk. She left the mess for the radio janitorial staff (if there was such a thing) to take care of.

Sabrina was annoyed at having to take grouchy radio listener calls and Joan still couldn’t be found to collect the puppy.

Everyone was on pins and needles waiting to hear back from Curt.

Mitzy wanted to go back in time to before the trip to her rental and start the day over.

But she couldn’t and things just didn’t get better. The police stopped by a little after lunch.

“Mitzy Neuhaus?” a tall, tan officer asked, flipping open his badge.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m her assistant Sabrina,” Sabrina said politely.

“I’m Mitzy Neuhaus.” Mitzy turned from her desk, which was against the wall.

“We’d like to talk to you about the auction you attended last weekend. Would you like to talk here or come down to the station?”

The officer was young and being very polite, so she couldn’t possibly be in trouble, she hoped.

“We can speak privately in the office here. Sabrina was also at the auction, should she join us?”

“We’ll talk to you both separately,” the officer said.

Mitzy led the officers into the small private office and took a chair. They both remained standing.

“At the auction you bid on some jewelry items. Can you describe them for us?”

“One of them was…I think it was platinum with diamonds and sapphires. I mean, it had larger sapphires and small, accent diamonds. It was locally made about a hundred years ago. It was very pretty, a sort of bow shape.” She didn’t ask any questions, but waited with nervous tension while they took their notes.

“Did you win this auction item?”

“No.”

“Can you recall who won it?” they asked, eyeing her closely.

“Alonzo Miramontes.”

“Do you know Mr. Alonzo Miramontes?”

“Yes.”

“How well do you know him, Ms. Neuhaus?”

“We are acquainted through business.”

“And how did you feel about his winning the item?” Their posture was stiff, polite yet unyielding. She had no idea why they were questioning her and was beginning to feel nervous.

“I felt like…like he paid too much. But that it was sweet because he said he was giving it to his mother.”

“You heard him say this?”

“Yes.” Mitzy tapped the toe of her boot against the leg of the table.

“And how did you hear him say this?”

“We were seated at the same table.”

“And the other pieces you bid on?” His voice maintained an even tone that Mitzy was beginning to find very intimidating.

“Just one—the Romanov pendant.”

“Did you win this item?”

“No, I did not.”

“Do you know who won the item?”

“Yes, my sister-in-law did.” Mitzy drummed her fingers in time to her tapping toe. It felt like the officer had a wire tap to all of her little jealousies.

“And what did you think about that?”

“I thought that she had won a beautiful piece of jewelry and made a generous donation.” Mitzy stood and pressed the palms of her hands together to make them stop shaking. “What is this about?”

“The night of the auction the museum was robbed and the jewelry that had been sold at auction was stolen. We are talking to everyone who bid on the pieces.” They shut their little notebooks and led Mitzy out the door of her small office. Then they ushered Sabrina in.

Before they left, they stopped at the reception desk. “We’re talking to everyone who bid at the auction and really appreciate your cooperation. We will call you if we need to speak to you further.”

Mitzy spoke carefully, hoping her voice wouldn’t shake. “We will be allowed to have our lawyers present next time?” The line of questions did not make her comfortable or happy. And Sabrina had looked downright scared when she exited the little room.

The officer leaned on the reception desk. “Ms. Neuhaus, you really aren’t a suspect, I swear. We do have someone in mind but have to sort of ‘eliminate’ everyone else. The event was a real ‘Who’s Who’ in
Portland
kind of night, so we want to cross all of our Ts and dot our Is especially since your brother is involved. We want everything above board.”

It was small comfort. She didn’t let her guard down, but spoke in a kind voice. “Then the four of us can chat—you all and my brother and I—next time you have any questions.” 

The officers got the hint, tipped their hats and left.  

Sabrina looked at Mitzy.

Mitzy looked at Sabrina.

Sabrina nodded almost imperceptibly. She grabbed her laptop bag.

“Don’t forget that smart phone thing,” Mitzy said.

As the door swung shut behind them Ben looked up. “Hey, where are you guys…oh never mind.” He turned his head back to his computer.

The Miata squealed into the parking lot of the museum. It was quiet outside, but the lines of school buses indicated inside the museum was a different story.

“Perfect,” Mitzy said. “I’m going to distract Aerin. If I know her she is cranky and upset and will talk and talk. The staff is overrun with children who want to pick at the paintings so no one will notice you. Sneak off to use the ladies’ room, but really visit the office. In fact, we will both be in the office chatting up Aerin and you just slip off to use the private bath. But try and get near the janitorial office, or whatever it is. Maybe security.”

“Really? Can’t I be the one to talk to Aerin?” Sabrina gave a pathetic doe eyes look to her friend.

“Sure, why not?” Mitzy grinned.

“Well…okay, maybe I don’t want to.”