Free Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse by Traci Tyne Hilton Page A

sign. Mitzy shivered. She didn’t like strange men standing around and staring in her direction. As innocent as they probably were, she preferred people to just keep moving. She tapped her boot on the linoleum floor and glanced back at Tabby. Tabby was still on the phone.
    The door swung open, and Joan grabbed Mitzy by the arm, “Let’s get out of here before I drop more of my artistic sensibilities.”
    Mitzy groaned, “Hang on, I should say goodbye to Tabby.”
    Joan led Mitzy by the arm to the Miata, “Did you see that delicious man cross the street a minute ago?” she asked, ignoring Mitzy’s pleas to stop back in the shop.
    “The tall one?” Mitzy guessed.
    “Yes, his friend wasn’t my type at all. Yumm -o. You’ll have to get Alonzo to introduce me,” she said.
    “Alonzo knows them?”
    “They went into his office.”
    “What do you mean? I saw them across the street, but they sort of disappeared in a blink.”
    “They crossed the street, dingy. How hard is that? I watched them from my office window. I love that window.”
    “Those two guys are up in Alonzo’s office? But he’s not there today. He’s at the site.”
    “His secretary is in. I’m sure she’ll take a message. What’s wrong?” Joan was looking at Mitzy with her head tilted, like a curious dog.
    Mitzy was breathing a little shallower but tried to pull herself together. She opened the Miata and got in, shutting the door quickly. She hit the lock button and stared at the front door of her office building. A rapping at the window made her jump.
    Joan stood at the door and waved her hands mouthing, “Hello, unlock!”
    “Sorry,” Mitzy mumbled and unlocked the door. As soon as Joan was in the car she locked the door again. “I don’t trust those guys. They just stood there staring and now they are upstairs in Alonzo’s office. What if they are connected to the murder? Should I call the police?”
    “You’re paranoid.”
    “You didn’t see them staring at me.”
    “Actually, I did see them. They were looking at the traffic, and then they crossed the street.”
    “Can you be sure?” Mitzy asked.
    “If they were staring at you why didn’t they come into the pottery shop, hmm?”
    “Let’s just see how long it takes them to come downstairs.”
    “I’d rather not,” Joan protested. She shrugged out of her chunky knit sweater and wriggled it out from behind her. She draped the sweater over her knee and pulled her new satchel up from the floor. Mitzy watched her, entranced. Joan opened the satchel and pulled out a small cylinder. She slid it open.
    “Lipstick, Mitzy. Seriously.” Joan pulled the cap off and applied the velvety red color. “You need to relax. What did you think I was going to get out? A pen gun?”
    Mitzy shook her head and laughed. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe. I am a bit stressed out. I see killers in all of the shadows right now.”
    “Then I think we do need to go find Alice . This murder was not about you and the sooner you believe that the better off you will be.”
    Mitzy thought about her phone message. Was she wrong? No, she was not wrong. But she decided not to tell Joan yet. She wanted more evidence first.

They drove straight to Alice McNinch’s home address on the first try. It was a very plain split-level ranch, painted a faded sky blue. Mitzy sidled her car next to the curb and turned off the engine. She turned to Joan, smiled, and let a small laugh escape. It led to another laugh. Her shoulders shook, she laughed so hard. When she started snorting Joan put a hand on her shoulder.
    “We don’t have to ring the door bell,” she said.
    “Well, no,” Mitzy said, gulping for air, “We don’t.” She looked at the house again and tried not to laugh. She sold that house to Alice eight years ago. That’s why the name had felt familiar; she knew Alice . Alice was a crazy young thing with a sewing machine and an inheritance. Mitzy stifled one more giggle and stretched her arms