Free Foreclosed: A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery (A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery, a Cozy Christian Collection) by Traci Tyne Hilton

speaking, that House Hunters would be filming in the Portland metro area in one month’s time and that they were excited to be showcasing such a vibrant community. The note on the bottom was what really mattered. It was from Curt, Mitzy’s one previous boyfriend—well—her one serious relationship at any rate. After things fizzled out he had remained friendly and then he had sort of disappeared. It was a nice note:
    “Mitzy! I was totally amped to see your application! I’m insisting we work with you when we get to town. I’ll be calling on Monday. Oh, by the way, I’m a producer for House Hunters now, go figure! – Curt”
    She and Curt had broken up mostly over her career. Curt had been a camera man, a really good one. But Portland isn’t known for its vibrant film and television industry. With her business thriving and her—Curt called it ‘retentive’—sense of responsibility to her staff, things between Curt and herself just couldn’t go anywhere. Make that, Mitzy wouldn’t go anywhere, but Curt had to.
    In fact, Mitzy had known that Curt worked for the show. It was her business to know HGTV as well as any other aspect of the real estate world, but she hadn’t advertised the fact on her application. It seemed pointless. Ex-boyfriends aren’t notoriously great references.
    Mitzy laid the paper back on the fax tray and added House Hunters to her list of things to do. It seemed odd all of a sudden that last week was the slowest week of her business life, and this week she suddenly had too much to do. Today was Wednesday. She had less than a week to prep for the gala, get a television career, and catch a thief. If all things scheduled well, House Hunters would help with her media goals but if not…well…she wouldn’t think about that right now. She had a dress in the closet, a fabulous proposal to First Things and a day to spend staking out the Victorian and hunting down Laurence Mills. The missing cash buyer came to mind. Probably nothing she could do about it at this point, but the Smythes deserved some kind of compassion right now, a phone call at the very least.
     
     
    At the office, Ben was put on full time gala work. He was their liaison. He welcomed the break from monotony. He particularly enjoyed running around to the printers, whether or not he really had to, and seeing his work in production. He was out of the office, meeting with the boys at the print shop this particular morning.
    Sabrina and Mitzy had the still office to themselves.
    “I’ve been playing detective, boss,” Sabrina said, pulling out a yellow legal pad.
    “Oh?” Mitzy, reading glasses perched on her nose, was engrossed in her emails. She longed to be at the Victorian, but was a stickler about her business relationships.
    Sabrina cleared her throat. “My friend at the DMV is having a hard time tracking down Laurence Mills.”
    “Excuse me?” Mitzy turned and gave Sabrina her full attention.
    “Remember Ryan? We dated last year? He works at DMV still. I had him look up Laurence Mills.”
    “He can do that?” Mitzy asked, quite surprised.
    “Sure. Apparently Hippa laws don’t restrain the motor vehicle department employees.”
    “But he couldn’t find anything?”
    “Yes, but what he couldn’t find was rather telling. In our state registry there are Laurie Mills, Laura Mills, Larry Mills, Lorenzo Mills, Lorent Mills and Florence Mills, but no Laurence. And Larry, Lorenzo and Lorent, the males, didn’t even live in Portland , much less at our poor abused Victorian.”
    “So, it’s a dead end.”
    “Kind of, but we now know he doesn’t have a driver’s license. Or at least a valid one. According to the tax record the Baltimore house was his address for most of this year and if he drives he should have a local license by now. I think it would be cool if Laurence Mills was a false identity.”
    “Very mature, Sabrina.” Mitzy rolled her eyes.
    “Maybe it’s immature. But it’s also more