Foreclosed: A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery (A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery, a Cozy Christian Collection) (16 page)

“I was so sad to see it going into foreclosure.” Mitzy sipped her tea.

“That is sad. People seem so careless with their property these days.” Evy tut-tutted in a mother hen sort of way. “In my day one did not lose one’s property.”

“It is such a great old house. It could use some fixing up though. I thought it would make a neat bed and breakfast,” Sabrina said.

“Oh, you’re probably right. It’s certainly big enough. I haven’t been in it in years. You girls probably weren’t even born yet the last time I was in that old pile.”

“Old pile? Did the family not keep it up well?” Mitzy asked casually.

“It’s certainly a big old house, and I don’t remember that that family had enough money to keep it up. It seemed like there was never enough staff and things always looked a bit down at the heels. It is on the Eastside though. I don’t imagine one could expect anything else.”

Sabrina’s back stiffened. Her family had been East-siders for generations. Mitzy kicked her shin under the table cloth.

“I wonder that it got out of the family in the first place,” Mitzy mused quietly. She was eager to find out if the ‘family’ knew anything about Laurence Mills. Or about Maxim Mikhaylichenko.

“It wasn’t exactly a family place,” Evy said sharply. “Aunty Irene was related to someone who lived there, but I don’t think we were. It was always thought of as a bit of a strange place.” Evy’s back stiffened, ever so slightly. She shifted her shoulders back and her chin out and passed a tray of scones to Sabrina.

“Not family? I’m sorry. I thought I had heard that it was related in some way to the family that donated the jewels to the museum…” Mitzy trailed off.

She didn’t know much about Evangeline Simonite-Wilber. She knew that she wanted her old family jewels back. She knew that when she had called asking about the old house, she had casually mentioned the stolen jewels and was invited to tea.

She didn’t know how old Evy was or if she was suffering from any kind of dementia. She didn’t know how far to trust any information she was gathering. And she didn’t know what good the information would do her once she had gathered it.

“Oh, I suppose they were some kind of relation, but it is all so far back. You know, I never knew Aunty Irene. She was mother’s aunty. She had all those jewels and gave them all away. She was a princess you know.”

“Really?” Sabrina set her cup down and leaned forward.

“Oh yes. She was a Russian princess. Her father immigrated when he lost his lands. I think he lost his lands. You know over in
Russia
you must have lands if you want to live comfortably. But it might have been his home in town that he lost. I remember a story about a fire.”

“Your aunty was a princess who lost her property to a fire?” Sabrina’s eyes were wide. “How romantic and Tolstoyian.”

“Tolstoyian? Maybe so. Maybe I was remembering a book.” Evy held her small, white fist to her mouth and cleared her throat. “There was a fire though, and the family wasn’t able to fully recover, so they immigrated to
America
. I think they came out by way of
Alaska
.” Evy seemed to be gazing at the wall behind Mitzy. “That seems right. They were in
Alaska
for a while before they came here. I think Aunty Irene had the jewels and had to pass them off to her nieces and nephews. She never had her own children you know. And she never learned English, I’m sure of that.”

“She must have been so lonely.” Mitzy tried to steal a glance at the wall that held Evy’s gaze. Several oil portraits hung over a low bookcase. Was Evy thinking of the people, or the stories?

“Oh, rather not, I’d think. We’re a big family. I think some of them somewhere still speak the language. Funny thing that, probably all sorts of new money folks are related to us and don’t even know it.” She smiled, but only with her thin lips. Her watery blue eyes were hooded.

“New money?” Mitzy asked.

“Oh, probably. I really don’t keep up with those people. My charities take up so much of my time you know. That museum, now that is something.” Evy began to ramble on about the museum and the jewelry collection and how the women in her family had always wanted to get back their jewelry, but considered it quite impossible.

“Were you terribly disappointed to not get it in the auction?” Mitzy asked.

“Indeed. I had intended to buy it from Ms. Flint-Neuhaus privately after the auction. You can only imagine my disappointment when I heard that it had been stolen.” She sighed and her thin shoulders shuddered. A real sadness suffused her features.

“It is a great loss. I hope that they can retrieve it quickly,” Mitzy said.

“I’m afraid that the piece will be broken up and the jewels themselves sold. I’m sure they are lost forever now. If mother had known this would happen she would have gotten them back herself.”

“Did no one ever try to get the jewels back?” Sabrina asked.

“Never. My husband would say things at times about people and treasure and the lost treasure. You know he has always been a very important man. I think he did a lot to help my family many years ago.”

“What kind of help did your family need?” Mitzy was getting lost in the rambling memories and fishing for a straight narrative.

“You must be too young to remember the Cold War. If you had had family behind the Iron Curtain you would know the kind of help they might need.”

“That is serious.” Mitzy took a sip of her tea. “Your husband must be very important if he was able to get people out of that tyranny.” She took a stab at the kind of help a stateside family member might have offered.

Evy gave Mitzy a sharp look. “I suppose those days are gone now, but there was a time when one couldn’t speak of these things in such specific terms.”

“Do you keep in touch with anyone that your husband helped?” Mitzy asked.

Evy added cream to her tea cup and didn’t look up again for a moment. When she did, her face was grim. “Goodness no. We don’t keep up with the kind of people who lose their homes to foreclosure. That is irresponsible. Especially after all the help they were given to get here.”

Mitzy and Sabrina exchanged a meaningful look.

“Was Princess Irena beautiful?” Sabrina asked, ready as ever to soothe a tense moment.

The rest of the tea was spent looking at pictures of the Simonite women who had longed for their jewels.

Mitzy and Sabrina left with the impression that a great lady felt she had done the poor children a favor and that they ought not to expect to be invited again.

As they drove away they discussed the conversation. Both wondered: When Mrs. Wilber referred to ‘new money,’ and ‘the kind of people who have lost their homes to foreclosure,’ was she referring to the
Baltimore
house going into foreclosure? Was she telling them that Laurence Mills was her family from the old country? Were the Mikhaylichenko-Romanov jewels Mills’ family heirlooms as well as Mrs. Wilber’s?

Alonzo couldn’t believe what he had been hearing on the radio. Brett Neuhaus’ work load must be suffering from the economic crisis like everyone else. Imagine that big shot political hopeful trying a case on the radio. That was all he was doing. Throwing around his political and legal weight, with no real possibility of setting precedent.

Mitzy had talked the lawsuit up like she was going to change the world and then Sabrina was mugged. Today he could hear a change in her voice. She was wearing thin. She didn’t have the oomph inside her to tackle the whole economy single handedly. She didn’t even have the energy to fight one specific and nefarious enemy, as it appeared she suddenly had.

If Mitzy didn’t realize the attack on Sabrina was directly related to her own big mouth, she was a bigger fool than he had thought before.

While trying to decide if Mitzy was dumber than most blondes, Bruce called.

Mitzy had gotten Sabrina back to the office, but it hadn’t helped anyone feel better.

Sabrina was glum and Ben was acting weird. Getting beat down by a middle-aged ceramics painting enthusiast had put him in a terrible mood.

“Can I delete the security pictures yet?” Sabrina asked as she scrolled through the pictures on her phone.

“Sure,” Mitzy said.

“What security pictures?” Ben asked with an edge to his voice.

“From Aerin’s office,” Sabrina said.

“Why do you have security pictures from Aerin’s office?” Ben leaned forward to look at Sabrina’s phone with her.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Mitzy said.

“A good idea for what?” Ben asked. “Are those museum security camera shots?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get those?”

“We went to visit Aerin, okay?” Mitzy didn’t appreciate the insolent interrogation.

“And she thought it was a good idea for you to take pictures of what? The robbery?” He squinted at the blurry images of the masked man.

“We didn’t ask,” Sabrina said, as she hit delete.

“How did you get classified pics without asking?”

“I don’t think you want to know.” Mitzy closed her email and turned to look at Ben.

“If you were playing spy, I hope no one saw you.” Ben shook his head.

“Do you think that one guy knew what we were doing?” Sabrina asked Mitzy.

“Why would he?” Mitzy tapped her fingers on her knee, a nervous gesture that didn’t help her calm down.

“He saw us. He saw the camera. Maybe he guessed.”

“Wait a second. Dude. Someone saw you all hanging over Aerin’s desk with a camera? Do you know who it was?”

“No. We didn’t know him and he didn’t know us,” Mitzy said.

“Can you be sure?” Ben asked.

“Why would it matter? Why should we worry about the janitor?” Sabrina’s eyes were huge.

“You did just get your laptop stolen. We were wondering why someone was after your computer.” Ben sat back. He shook his head in frustration. “There is a chance that sneaking around stealing pictures of a robbery would make someone want to get their hands on your electronics.”

“Are you saying the mugging was my fault?” The blood rushed to Mitzy’s cheeks.

“I’m not saying anything, Mitzy.” Ben’s voice had a snide edge that spoke volumes.

Mitzy clipped Gilbert’s leash on his little blue collar and left the office. She was angry with Ben, but much angrier at herself.

She had imagined learning a little more about the robbery would keep them safe, not get her best friend hurt.

She got in her car, but then didn’t know what to do. Would further spy-like action put them in more danger or help them out of the mess they were in?

Mitzy reached over and patted Gilbert’s head. He was so small and dependent. She hadn’t yet been able to leave him alone anywhere. She just couldn’t. And she couldn’t get a hold of Joan.

The rain drummed on the soft top of the Miata. The pressure was like a heavy blanket draped over Mitzy.

Her head and the sky were thundering. Her stomach was boiling. Her jaw was clenched like a vise. As the spring rain pounded over her she watched a pool of water collect at a seam on the roof. The developing leak fascinated her eyes, but didn’t register with her mind.

If there was a connection between the robbery at the museum and Sabrina’s mugging, then there was a connection between the burnt-out rental, Laurence Mills, the attack, and the missing cash buyers—all of it. The whole tangled affair hinged on one thing, if only she could suss out what that was.

In the back of her mind a voice nagged that Alonzo was behind it. Tears filled her eyes, hot and burning. Why was he torturing her? She was sure things would be different after she had seen him at church on Sunday. A man like that…he shouldn’t be able to torture her like this.

She drove to her
Baltimore
rental and stared at the singed walls of her rental property. Her renters—her friends—were displaced now.

In business she was keen. She had to be that way now. Sharp and attentive. All she had been trying to do for the last week and a half was sell the Victorian on
Baltimore
. What had happened instead?

First, Alonzo and Carmella decided to try and buy the house and turn it into a commercial property.

Then she had hosted the gala in hopes of finding her own buyer for the house. While there she had seen the now infamous Romanov pendant.

There had also been a handful of crimes: a burglary at the museum and Brett and Aerin’s house, and a break-in at the office. Sabrina mugged, but doing fine. The fire at the rental, still being investigated for arson.

There was a bit of real-estate business, the on again-off again buyers and the House Hunters gig.

Then there was Gilbert.

She needed to figure out which pieces fit this puzzle. Despite what she wanted to believe, not all of this could be related.

At the gala, Aerin had won the pendant and then lost it again, which was obviously why both her home and the museum were burgled. They shared the name Neuhaus with Mitzy which could explain the break-in at the office.

But more likely that the break-in and the mugging were about the pictures she and Sabrina took at the museum. Which meant the man in the hat was somebody important.

Maybe Laurence Mills himself.

Tea with Mrs. Wilber had neatly tied the house and the jewelry together. Princess Irena had lived in the
Baltimore
house with a collection of jewelry and then given much of it away. It was likely that the house had remained ‘in the family’ up until it went into foreclosure.

But what did Mitzy know about the family? What did she need to know about the family? Were Alonzo and Carmella related to the Romanov-Mikhaylichenko family?

Mitzy broke from her reverie and started her car. It was time to hit the historical society reading room.

At the reading room, she hunched over her microfiche machine, scanning through property deeds from a hundred years ago. She was looking for the first papers to the land on what is now
Baltimore Street
and
Smith Blvd.
It was a long slow process. The deeds were handwritten and Baltic looked like
Baltimore
as did
Marlborough
and many other things that could only be read by application of a strong looking glass. She didn’t keep one in her purse, but the archivist had one she could borrow.

She had twelve months’ worth of records at her station as well as some newspapers to scan through. She searched for the name Romanov and Mikhaylichenko together or otherwise.

When she thought she couldn’t take another minute of sitting crouched over the low desk she found her first clue.

The parcel of land that the map would confirm as the one in question was originally deeded to a Mr.…it looked like it might be McCutcheun, but she was just guessing.

The record she had found was a bill of sale. McCutcheun sold it to Mr. Harry Something-or-Other and his wife Mrs. Harry Romanov-Something-or-other in 1899. This was the last thing she had expected to find, but worth noting. She ordered a print of the record.

Since she had a name and a date she to moved on to Google and USGenweb for a little census search.

When did the Romanov-Something-or-Others get to
Portland
and how long had they been here? And what was the Something-or-Other name in reality? The best she could make of it was Simlington, but that just didn’t sound like a name.

She wore out the search and find function on the census record without finding anyone called Simlington or Siml* in her county. They had to have been there of course, she just had the name wrong. So with an aching neck, she moved her hunt to the card catalogue.

The card catalogue was as useful as it had been in high school. She immediately found an article in
Antiquities and Antiques
about the missing Romanov jewels.

After the revolution, a great deal of looting had been done and there was a lengthy catalogue of missing pieces. Adventurers, displaced heirs, and the filthy rich had spent decades trying to find the lost treasures. Of course, many pieces such as the Romanov-Mikhaylichenko piece were legitimately owned by museums. But despite the impeccable, ephemera, these pieces were sought after by collectors of Russian antiques on behalf of the current government of
Russia
.

They were even more hotly pursued by displaced royalty descended from people who had happened to be out of the country during the revolution.

The Romanov-Mikhaylichenko collection was a little famous in its own way. It had remained in the possession of Princess Irena Mikhaylichenko, a distant relation of the Romanovs who lived in the
US
. It was thought that she had pieced out the collection as gifts in her old age. The last known piece was the necklace given to the museum by a nephew of Princess Irena.

However, a few living relatives remembered Irena was supposed to have only given away a small part of her family collection. Princess Irena had ended her days in this town living with her niece, on the Romanov side.