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

fighting?” Mitzy asked, her face gone red.
    “Yes ma’am,” the little house cleaner said.
    Carmella punched her brother on the arm. “Good going,” she hissed on the way to her desk.
    “I’m not going to see you killed, do you hear me? You have a choice: stay at Carmella’s or stay with me.” He crossed his arms and stared at her, one eyebrow lifted.
    “I’m going to my room.” Mitzy turned on her heel, marched out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her room.
    The platter could have been broken by Sabrina, who might still have a key or by Joan who kept a spare key in her office or by Marge who knew the spare key was in Joan’s office.
    One broken platter didn’t suddenly mean that Alonzo could dictate her every move. The mere idea of it made her bile rise. She was not a child. She slammed the door to her room shut behind her. She pulled down the blanket on her bed and fluffed the pillow. It was only
6:00
in the evening, much too early for bed. She hadn’t even had dinner yet. She dropped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. The pillow was kind of lumpy. She reached back to fluff it more and felt something hard and smooth. With a jagged edge. Her heart   jumped to her throat as she pulled it out from under her pillow. It was a shard from the platter.
    There was a quiet knock at the door.
    Heart pounding, Mitzy walked to the door. She didn’t try to be silent. Whoever put that shard under her pillow knew she was there. She leaned against the door, her hand on the knob.
    The quiet knocking came again, “Mitz?”
    “Alonzo?” she asked.
    “Yeah. Can I come in?”
    Mitzy pulled the door open and grabbed Alonzo by the arm. She held the shard of platter up but didn’t say anything.
    “Where was it?” Alonzo asked.
    “Under my pillow.”
    Alonzo pulled out his cell phone and called the direct number to the FBI. “This counts as something suspicious happening at the inn.”
    Mitzy hung on Alonzo’s every word as he explained the broken platter, missing keys, and chunk of ceramic under Mitzy’s pillow. “Just put Backman on, will you?” he yelled. His face had gone red.
    “What is it?” Mitzy mouthed. “Give me the phone.” She put her hand out for his cell.
    Alonzo turned away from her to face the wall. She could hear his sharp intake of breath. He flung the phone on the dressing table with a harrumph.
    “What?” Mitzy asked “Tell me what they said.”
    “Voicemail. They sent me to her voicemail.”
    “Oh that’s right. She’s on her honeymoon, but there’s got to be someone else there that cares. You told someone, I heard you.”
    “Yeah. They ‘made a note.’ A note. For the love. Someone out there is threatening you, and they took a note.” Alonzo turned and crossed the room, his hands clenching and unclenching.
    “We’ve already called the police. They’re looking into it.” Mitzy reached out again, trying to touch Alonzo’s sleeve. He kept pacing.
    “Yeah, they took a note, too. I guess it’s up to you and me. I assume this is those guys from the scooter shop again. They obviously screwed up and killed the wrong woman. They made it to your office, and you were gone. They made it here, and you were gone. You’d better stick close so that they don’t find you the next time they try.”
    Mitzy was already filling her suitcase. “Will you walk me next door to Carmella’s?” she asked. But then she stopped. “Last spring they torched that house to stop me. They know it’s mine. I don’t want them to do something awful with Diego Jr. there . I can’t stay with your sister.” She set her bag down and dropped onto her bed again.
    “Then stay here. But switch rooms with me. I’ll keep staying here too. It’s imperfect, but better than nothing.”
    “It’ll do if we can’t think of anything better, but right now I just want to get out of here.”
    “Okay, babe. Let’s leave. I’ll take you for dinner somewhere across the river.”
    “Because murderers never