Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse (11 page)

“He’s a real meathead, isn’t he?”

“He’s a piece of work, for sure.”

“Anyway.
Do you need something from me? I really have a lot of work to do.”

“You know, I was selling Lara my house. She had a ton of cash. Did she always do the best at the clear-outs, get the most in bonuses?”

“Lara didn’t work hard for her money, if that’s what you mean.”

“She didn’t? I wonder how she was able to save up so much money.” Mitzy ran her fingers through the purse fringe that David had just straightened.

“Lara was greedy. That’s how she got all of her money. She was not satisfied with what Fiona gave us. She was a witch.”

“Lara asked for a raise?” Mitzy gave David a doe eyed look.

“Asked for? Whatever,” David rolled his eyes, “Lara demanded. And when Lara made a demand, Fiona gave in. Fiona is such a gentle soul. She’s like a mother to us.” David looked at Mitzy, his eyes hooded now, “I think Fiona was scared of Lara.” He spoke in a dramatic whisper. Mitzy noted that David had a flair for drama. That was his weakness. He would say more than he really wanted to, it seemed, if it gave him a moment of drama.

“Oh! Was Lara violent?” Mitzy hushed her own voice hoping she sounded surprised.

“No, not violent.
Just very crafty.”
David swung the last purse on its hooks so that the tassels shook. “Pretty hung up on the murder, eh?” David asked.

“Maybe so.
All I know is that I felt like coming back in and talking.
Talking to someone who knew Lara.
I just—I just can’t get it out of my mind.”

“It would be better for you if you did,” David said. He put both hands on the counter between himself and Mitzy and leaned forward. “I think you really need to just put it behind you. Understand?” he said.

Mitzy leaned forward a little herself, letting her face get very close to his, “What do I need to understand, David?” she whispered.

He leaned back, and stepped away from the table, his eyes widened. “It’s not good to dwell on these things. Just move on, okay? You don’t need to keep coming around here.” He looked her up and down, “Unless you need some clothes.”

Mitzy wanted to leave on her terms and not his so she kept her arms on the table. “What message are you trying to give me? That I’m not wrong?”

David curled his lip. “Oh honey, I think you are all wrong.” He turned away from her and ran his fingers through the strands of leather hanging from the edges of the purses. His voice was icy, with a sharp edge to it. Was this more of his drama, Mitzy wondered, or a real warning?

Mitzy heard a shuffling noise to her right and turned. Fiona had come out of a dressing room with her arms loaded with merchandise.

“That’s enough, David. Go count the stock for me.”

David’s face turned pink, but he nodded and went through a door marked “employees”.

Fiona put her stack of clothes on the front counter. Then she took Mitzy’s elbow, her fingers resting lightly. She walked with Mitzy to the front door of the shop. “Sorry you find yourself caught up in this ugliness.
Ever so sorry.
But it is not your tragedy. Leave it alone. David is wracked with guilt and confusion. Just let him
be
. Let all of us be.” A deep crease formed between Fiona’s eyebrows as they drew together. Though she was speaking to Mitzy, Mitzy noticed she looked out the door instead of at her. With one hand, Fiona picked at a spot on her cheek. Mitzy had seen signs like that before, when a client was lying about the condition of the house.

“It was a real tragedy, that’s for sure,” Mitzy said. She stepped closer to Fiona. She did not intend to walk out that front door. “A young life cut off just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Do you have anyone to talk to about the grief? I know my pastor counsels a lot. If you or David or anyone needs to talk I could connect you with him.”

Fiona fluttered her fingers over her cheek as though she didn’t know where to scratch. She stared out the window. “We’ve got each other, dear. That is all we need right now. Please go home. You don’t know what you are doing.”

Mitzy felt all out at the limbs, as if she was taking up too much space, she reached for the nearest clothes rack and began to scoot the hangers back and forth. “I know more than you think,” she said.

Fiona gasped and turned away. “David!” She called out.

David poked his head out of the back room door, “Yes?” he said.

“Run down the street and get me a coffee will you?”

“Now?”
David narrowed his eyes and stared at Mitzy.

“Yes, now.” Fiona’s voice crackled.

He kissed Fiona on top of the head as he passed her. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

The door swung shut behind him. Fiona walked to the door. She reached up to the long string of bells that hung from the top and stilled them with one hand. Then she locked the front door of Neveah’s Wardrobe. “I don’t believe you,” she said.

“At first, I thought that it was a case of mistaken identity. I was almost certain of it, in fact. But the more I talked to her friends…” Mitzy paused and scooted the hangers back to their original spots on the rack, one by one. She was dying to know why Fiona had all of the signs of lying when all she was talking about was her grief over Lara’s death.

“Lara’s friends?”
Fiona said with a dry laugh. “You can’t have talked to many people.”

“That’s true,” Mitzy said. “Lara didn’t have many friends, did she?” Mitzy pulled the sleeve of a blouse out from the clothes. She pinched the light fabric between her fingers and let the sleeve slide through them. “But
Alice
was a good friend of Lara’s. And Hector too.”

Fiona stared out the window for a moment longer and then turned to Mitzy and looked her dead in the eye, “I just don’t know what to do about you. You cannot seem to take a hint. What to do, what to do?” Fiona’s eyes wandered again, back to the office. “No, not this time” she said. She narrowed her eyes and tapped her nose with one finger, “But then again, it would be better now than never.” She pulled the key out of the front door, leaving it locked. As she walked to the office she looked over her shoulder at Mitzy, her eyes still narrowed, her mouth pinched, “I think I can take care of this little problem right now and no one will ever be the wiser.”

Mitzy had no idea what Fiona had in mind and did not want to wait around and find out. As far as she could tell, Fiona was a very disturbed woman. She watched the door to the office for a moment. Being locked up with the crazy lady was nowhere near as scary as what she’d been through before. She knew she could get out of this.
Probably.

She weighed her options. She could wait it out and see if Fiona was as crazy as the Mafia had been. However, Mitzy did not want to spend any time tied up, like she had been in the basement of the inn. She also did not want to try and escape another burning building. She glanced around the room for an easy out.

She couldn’t go back through the office Fiona was in, and there were no side doors. She looked up at the ceiling. She grinned. She could fit through those ceiling panels. It might even be fun.

Mitzy grabbed a hold of the waist high shelf next to her and gave it a shake. It was pretty sturdy. She climbed up the shelves like a ladder and stood on the top. Standing on her toes she could just barely reach one of the ceiling panels. She poked it with her fingers until it tipped up. Then she wedged her hand inside and groped with her fingertips for something to hold onto. She felt what must have been a beam of some sort to hold up the huge chandelier that was to her right. The cold steel under her fingertips gave her courage. She put her hand back on the panel and shoved it over as far as she could.

She hoped that this building was built like her own commercial building. If so, she was on her way out. If she could get up into this ceiling space, she could get over to the store next door. She said a prayer and gripped the steel beam with her hands. She gave herself a great push and swung up into the ceiling. The shelf she shoved off from rocked, but nothing fell.

Mitzy’s arms were shaking, so she stopped to calm down. She could sit up on her knees just fine. The real ceiling was much higher up. The space she was in was cluttered with wires, beams, pipes and ductwork. It was the plenum space over the top of all of the stores in the old building, just as she had suspected.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Mitzy said under her breath. She reached down and moved the ceiling panel back into place. If Fiona did not hear her in the ceiling, Mitzy would be safe.

She scooted on her knees across the beam until she was sure she was on the other side of the wall she had climbed. The shop next door to Neveah’s was a vintage furniture store. Mitzy prayed that there would be something sturdy to jump to on the other side.

She laid herself out on the beam, being careful not to tip her purple purse upside down while she pried the nearest ceiling panel up with her fingertips. She got her grip on it and pulled it all the way out. The bookshelves were on display right beneath her.

“Oh dear Lord, get me out of here,” she prayed in a whisper. She dropped her legs through the hole, and searched for the top of the shelf with the toe of her boot. She found it, and let the rest of herself down from the ceiling. She crouched on the top for a moment to assess the situation.

The store was dim and crowded with merchandise, but it appeared to be open for business. From her perch on top of the shelf, she could see one employee talking to a customer by the dining room tables. They were not looking in her direction.

Mitzy climbed down the bookshelf like a ladder but stayed tucked into the display of tall shelves to get her thoughts together. She needed to get away from the street before Fiona opened the front door to look for her.
Or after.
Just so long as they did not come out at the same time.

Mitzy looked around the shop. Could she hide here if Fiona came in to find her? Down the same aisle as the bookshelves were armoires. She sized them up. She could fit inside, but what if she found herself there after the store closed? Surely, they would not stay open much longer. The only way to be sure she missed Fiona was to run for her car. Of all the things Fiona could do to her, Mitzy was sure she could not catch her.

She walked as quickly as she could to the front of the store, opened the door, and took off. She ran until her lungs were on fire, weaving her way past evening shoppers. It was dark, cold, and wet. The rainwater splashed up the back of her jeans as she ran. Her car was on the next block. Mitzy cursed Hawthorne District parking. She turned to see if Fiona had spotted her, and ran into a man. He put his arms out and grinned at her. “Well hey there,” he said. She nodded, mumbled excuse me and ran past him.

In the far distance, back by the door of Neveah’s shop she had seen Fiona’s red hair. She had seen Fiona looking down the road. Mitzy made it to her car, got in and drove off. She had what she came in for and a little something more.

Fiona was inscrutable and unstable. But was she a murderer? Close out bonuses and extravagant Christmas and birthday gifts were probably a tax evasion issue. Not really something worthy of a murder. Was she back to square one? Was the Mafia the most likely suspect again?

She headed straight to the inn. She was sure Carmella could use a hand with something before the big wedding party started. And it was better than sitting in Alonzo’s trailer like a child waiting for dad to finish work.

At the inn Carmella was on her hands and knees and up to her elbows in soap. She was scrubbing the staircase. “Who would have thought? And right in the middle of our first big wedding weekend?” she asked Mitzy. “I’ve never seen a mess like this. I will hand it to you and Al both, you were right about not having a carpet runner on these stairs. I don’t know how I would have ever gotten it clean.”

Mitzy leaned down and touched the scuzz on the floor. “What is it?”

“As best as I can tell some kind of fruit juice or syrup. I really do not know. One minute we were running a classy establishment, and the next it was like the scene from Carrie. Some kid must have spilled it. None of the guests have said anything and I doubt they will now. They’d be too embarrassed.”

“But it must have been gallons of liquid! How did no one see it?”

“It’s not that much. It just made it all the way down the stairs before anyone noticed. The housekeepers have been cleaning the upstairs rooms and I was in the office. When I heard the crash I came out and this was waiting for me.”

“But no one was out here? They must have run off fast.”

“Okay, you got me. I was on the phone with Ma. I couldn’t get her off. By the time I got out the spill was everywhere and the kid was gone.” Carmella attacked the step she was at with a scrub brush.

“You can’t scrub that by yourself, let me help.”

“Please. Grab a scrubber. We’ll be here a while.”

“It’s really red, isn’t it?” Mitzy asked. The deep red stream of sticky mess ran down the left side of the lower staircase. “Looks like blood.”

“Yes,” Carmella said. She was not smiling.

“It smells fruity.” Mitzy said.

“It’s not pig’s blood, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think someone wanted it to look like blood?”