Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse (10 page)

“Let’s get you back to your job and then I’ll go do mine,” Mitzy said.

The atmosphere in the car was thick with tension. Mitzy rolled her head to try and relax but it didn’t help. Alonzo didn’t scare easily. If he was freaked out she shouldn’t relax yet.

Alonzo didn’t trust Ben to house sit a
cat,
much less keep Mitzy safe at the office. But he wasn’t going to fight about it today. He had to save his fight for where she was going to sleep tonight. He appreciated that she didn’t want anyone to think they were sleeping together. He liked how Mitzy stood by her convictions, but Alonzo didn’t know a single person who would care one way or the other.

All he had to do was convince her to come home with him tonight and he’d finally get a good night’s sleep. In the back of his head he knew there would be more than just sleeping if she came home with him. But his overwhelming urge to protect her was all he listened to. She was his woman and he was going to do his job.

The community center he had been building was almost complete. The finishing touches were going on inside. He toured the reception area, approving of what was being done. Some guys were surfacing the information desk with concrete rock that looked like slate. One of the stone guys stepped aside from the job and joined Alonzo.

“You hear about The Frog?” he asked.

Alonzo shook his head.

“You know him, right? He’s working the job over at Mitzy’s condo. Turns out he found the murder weapon.” The man stood with his chest out.

Alonzo nodded and narrowed his eyes. “Who is ‘The Frog’?”

“You know, that guy called
Pierre
? But he’s not French. He’s Russian, I think. He goes by Pierre Kiersten or The Frog. He’ll answer to almost anything.”

Alonzo nodded again. He’d heard of
Pierre
. “He’s the guy that found the bloody brick?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know it. The police were checking out the work site…I think that dead girl had concrete in her brains or something, and they found a block on the wall The Frog had been working that had blood on it.”

How, Alonzo wondered, do you put a bloody brick on the wall and not notice?

“How did it get on the wall?”

“The Frog said there was a brick in the grass, not with the stack. He picked it up when he walked past it. He said it was dirty so he wiped it off with some rag and put it on the wall.”

“No kidding.”

“Yup.
Cops have been following The Frog for two days now since they found it.
Looks like he’s a person of interest.”

“But did he know Lara?”

“Nope.
But everyone knows he’s crazy.”

The man made a quick nod with his chin to Alonzo and went back to the reception desk to install more fake stone.

Alonzo had not heard that
Pierre
was crazy. He’d never heard him called The Frog before either. And he had never heard that
Pierre
was supposed to be Russian.

If he left now, Alonzo thought he could get to the condo, have a conversation with
Pierre
and still get the rest of the day’s work in before he had to get back to the inn to keep an eye on Mitzy.

Ben showed up at the office looking anxious and in a hurry. He kept checking his watch. “All right Mitzy,” Ben said. “I’ve only got five minutes but I wanted to make it in before I left. I emailed you the order I made at HP. Here’s the printout too.” He passed her a piece of typing paper. “It makes sense to me and once it is running it will make sense to you too. Can you trust me to take care of this for you?”

“Yes, I guess I can.” Mitzy looked at the piece of paper in front of her but the pictures and random letters and numbers next to them didn’t help her in any way. “I guess I’ve got to.” She looked back up at Ben and smiled.

“If you don’t get it you could always go take a computer science class at the senior center.” Ben frowned.

“I know how to use a
computer,
I’m just not all technical about it.” Mitzy set the paper down on her desk. “So is this all you are going to do? Bring me the screen shot of
of
an email you sent and then leave?” She pointed her gaze in the direction of the ancient computer equipment in the middle of the floor.

Ben followed her gaze. “Let’s get it in my car,” he said. “If you help me load this junk I’ll take it. But it’s Christmas, Mitzy, I’ve got things to do.”

“It’s December third. That’s not exactly Christmas.”

Ben grabbed a jumble of cords and made for the door.

Mitzy picked up a computer monitor and followed him out.

“I can’t believe they delivered all of this to you.” Ben tossed the cords in the passenger seat of his Mini.

“It made sense when they were explaining it.” Mitzy put a brown external tape drive next to it.

“Did they know you already had a desk top that was made in this century?”

“It may have slipped my mind at the time.”

They went back to the office and picked up the last pieces of equipment. Ben tossed something in the trash bin on his way back out. He slammed the door of his hatchback shut. “I’ll see you but it will be a while. Don’t stress. We’ll get this taken care of. And try not to call, okay?”

“I feel really loved.”

“Whatever. Aren’t you supposed to go to your next babysitter?”

“Never mind Ben.
Merry Christmas.
And tell Jenny I said hi.”

Ben rolled his eyes. He got in his car and drove away.

Mitzy looked at her office door. Better inside than out, she figured.

As she passed the waste paper basket she looked down at it to see what Ben had thrown away. On top of the rubbish sat another piece of her platter. She hadn’t seen that mixed up with the computer parts when she had first searched for them. She was sure of it. Like it or not, it was time to head to her next babysitter.

Alonzo found
Pierre
at work on the stone wall on the opposite side of the building.

“Where is the stone?” he asked straight out.

Pierre
buttered the back of his rock with mastic. “It’s in a crime scene now.”

“You couldn’t tell it was all bloody?”

“It was in the dirt. It was half sunk in a hole in the grass. I picked it up. I wiped it off. Why would I think it was bloody?”

Alonzo listened closely to
Pierre
’s accent. It wasn’t thick, but it wasn’t French either.

“Why do they call you The Frog?” Alonzo asked.

“They called me La Rana,”
Pierre
said, “because I don’t speak Spanish and they thought I wouldn’t know what they were saying.”
Pierre
shrugged. “But Spanish is not so different. When I said I knew that meant the frog they began to call me the frog in English instead. It’s a nickname that stuck.” He picked up a brick and back-buttered it with his trowel.

“It’s not because your name is
Pierre
?”

“No, it’s because I sit like this.”
Pierre
crouched low at the wall, his long legs folded oddly, with his knees high up. “It’s comfortable while I work. La Rana. Who
cares.
”

“If you’re not French why is your name
Pierre
?”

Pierre
stuck another piece of rock to the wall, “Your name is Alonzo. Are you from
Italy
?”

“I’m Italian American.”

The Frog kept working and didn’t respond. “Did you come here to talk about the murder?” he asked.

“Yes, I did. Did you know Lara Capet?” he asked.

“Why would I know her?”

Alonzo didn’t respond.

“Ah.
Because I found the rock.
No. I didn’t know her. I just found the rock.”
Pierre
muttered something under his breath in a language Alonzo didn’t recognize.

“That Russian?”
Alonzo asked.

Pierre
turned to Alonzo, his blue eyes narrowed, jaw tight. He gave Alonzo a look of such deep hate it sent shivers down his spine.
“Romanian.”
The Frog turned back to the wall and began again with his rocks.

Alonzo wondered if
Pierre
really was crazy. “Where were you the night of the murder?”

Pierre
didn’t turn around but said something under his breath in Romanian. Even if Alonzo could have heard it, he wouldn’t have understood.

Alonzo left
Pierre
and walked across the courtyard so he was looking up at Mitzy’s old patio. The ground in front of his feet was cordoned with police tape. He could see the divot in the grass where a piece of concrete stone had fallen from the patio. The hole in the ground turned his stomach. He looked up and pictured the scene: a stone snuffing out the life of a young person in a moment of rage, and then being thrown over the rail, digging its own grave in the grass below.

Mitzy felt the urge to seek protection. It was a weakness that made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to run away in fear. She didn’t want to hide. She wanted to get to the bottom of the problem. Instead of driving back to the nice safe hotel she steered her Miata in the other direction. She was going back to Neveah’s Wardrobe.

What had the threats been anyway?
A broken platter?
Some pieces of pottery?
It was hardly the stuff of horror movies. So someone broke something she liked. So what that they could get into her house, her office, her hotel room and leave them behind? It was not like it was dangerous.
Just childish.
She didn’t need protection from a childish person who liked to break dishes. She needed information.

The issue of the bonuses for Neveah’s employees had been left hanging. This was the perfect time to go back to the shop and see if anyone felt chatty.

On her short drive to the shop she figured out the three questions she wanted answered. She wouldn’t leave until she knew what the bonuses were based on, how they were paid, and what Fiona was really rewarding when she paid them.

She swung the door of the boutique open making the bells jingle loudly and walked straight to the front counter. David was folding turtleneck sweaters on the counter. A silver cuff slid up and down on his skinny wrist while he worked. He looked up at Mitzy and lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything or stop folding.

“Have you guys hired anyone to replace Lara yet?” Mitzy asked.

“Are you looking for work?” David said in response.

“I was just thinking you must have a lot of extra work to do if you haven’t hired anyone.”

“Well that is the truth,” David said. “We’re swamped right now.”

The store was empty except for the two of them, just like the time she had been in before.

David must have noticed the silence because he added, “We’ve got orders coming in like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Ahh,” Mitzy said. “I hope they compensate you for it.
Overtime or something.”

“Oh Fiona’s good to us. But money’s not the same thing as time, that’s for sure.
Never a spare minute now.”
He moved his stack of folded turtlenecks to a rolling cart and pulled out a box of purses. He took the purses out one at a time and unrolled their straps. Then he hung them on a display rack and straightened their fringe.

“Those are great,” Mitzy said. “Are they by Alice McNinch?”

“No. They are Studio House.
A little too western for my taste but whatever.”

“Who gives you a better cut?” Mitzy asked with a little wink.

“We’re not on commission. But sometimes…” David smiled, “we do get a little extra if we sell the right stuff. Fiona has little clear-outs for us and rewards us nicely when we get it done.”

Mitzy pointed to a black lace sweater hanging on the wall. “I’d love to see that go on the clear out. How much does she discount clearance items?”

“Oh no, honey. We never clear out those.
Just shoes and purses.
Sometimes belts.
She hates to see them sitting around. People don’t order shoes online.
At least not from us.”

“But you get a good bonus when you clear out the shoes and purses?”

“When she’s ready for a clear out she makes it worth our while.”

“Anything else?
Like customer loyalty points?” Mitzy asked.

David shrugged. “Fiona keeps us happy. We do the clear-out thing. And then she’s very good to us at Christmas and birthdays.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “I could almost live on our Christmases, but then I eat like a bird.” He put one hand on his hip while he fluffed the tassels on the last purse with the other. “Did you get Hector his money?”

“I did connect with him,” Mitzy said.