Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 02 - Eminent Domain Page 4

  With a sigh, Mitzy took out her notes again. The real estate business was not taking nearly enough of her time. In her heart, all she wanted to do was sell houses. She was more than ready to open the inn and begin her role as silent partner. She didn’t want to be in the hospitality industry. She had a housing market to reinvigorate.

  But that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Alonzo and his crew had gone over the Victorian mansion with a fine tooth comb. The list of work that needed to be done was overwhelming. There was dry rot in the attic so a number of rafters needed replacing. The web of servants’ quarters under the attic wasn’t to code in any way at all. The doors were too small, the ceilings too low, the windows too high.

  The building wasn’t close to having enough bathrooms. In fact, there was only one functioning bathroom at the moment. The crumbling outhouse in the back was evidence of how the staff was supposed to take care of business when the house had originally been built.

  The cellar had a dirt floor and the crumbling foundation for walls. The crumbling foundations needed to be shored up to accommodate the weight of the new bathrooms coming in. And all of the plumbing needed to be ripped out and replaced.

  What Mitzy and Alonzo had hoped to accomplish with a bit of paint, a few pieces of discount porcelain, and a couple hundred thousand dollars had turned into a 1.25 million dollar project. Every source of funding was accounted for and important.

  It was key that Mitzy and the Neuhaus New Homes team kept selling houses, if they wanted to pay the contractors.

  Alonzo, a leader in the local commercial property market had won a bid on a city job as well. His team was building a new community center development in the Huddington Neighborhood of Portland. He was reinvesting his personal profit in the inn, but they were still shy of 1.25 million dollars.

  Mitzy and Carmella had planned to refinish all of the furniture and use it in the hotel. After taking inventory of the lot they realized it needed too much work and was too valuable at the same time. At auction the antiques could raise a lot of money for new furniture. At the end of the day they needed all the money they could get to finish the inn.

  Mitzy shuffled her papers, exaggerating the noise in her aggravation. She shoved all but the top paper into her desk drawer. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand and then started in on the transcribing the one paper she had kept out. But her mind wandered.

  Money hadn’t been an issue for Mitzy in a decade. The strain of funding the inn was distracting her from everything else she tried to get done. She tapped the eraser of her pencil on her desk as she stared at the list of Russian names and kept thinking about the money. The Meyer grant to the Oregon Historical Society for a museum on the property was large. Getting it finalized would be a weight off of everyone’s shoulders.

  Alonzo’s mom Teresa had come in on the business with an investment that helped a little. Alonzo was disappointed in Mitzy’s unwillingness to take out a business loan. But she was flat out angry that he continued to bring up the idea. For every story that Alonzo could tell of successfully leveraging a loan for profit, Mitzy had one of saving up and working hard to achieve a similar end with cash. As she was his landlord instead of the other way around, she usually ended the winner of those arguments.

  The trees that stood in the verge that were the view from the Neuhaus office had turned brilliant copper and sienna early this year. There had been a heat wave at end of August, immediately followed by unusual cooling in the beginning of September. Nature was convinced fall had arrived. The leaves rustled in the wind, their colors sparking against the duller brown of the leaves that had dried out in the heat. The whole city hoped that the winter rains would hold off. They could have a record year for fall colors if it didn’t start raining too soon. It was a compromise though, as the lawns were still yellow and crisp. The coffee shops painted their windows with leaves and sandwich boards stood at every street corner advertising pumpkin spice coffee drinks. More to the point, the sweet potato fries had returned to Burgerville. Fall was a dangerous time of the year if you were trying not to snack. Sabrina brought a basket of the sweet potato fries back from her lunch to share.

  “When is your exam?” Mitzy asked, helping herself to a French fry.

  “Beginning of next month,” Sabrina said with a nervous shake of the head.

  “Are you ready? Do you want me to quiz you?”

  “Not yet. Tomorrow maybe. I want to study a little more,” Sabrina said.

  “You know the business inside and out. You’ve been my right hand for five years now. You’ll ace it,” Mitzy said.

  It was true, but Sabrina gnawed her thumbnail while she reviewed her notes. “It’s just so specific. That’s all. I know how to do all of this,” she said. “But will I remember it when I sit the test?”

  “Yes,” Ben said in an unusual moment of encouragement. “You’ve just got nerves. Here.” He tossed her a stick of gum. “Chew this and then make sure you chew one just like it during the test.”

  Sabrina unwrapped the stick of gun and popped it in her mouth. “Why?”

  “It’s like book-marking a web page. You tag your memory with the gum chewing. If you chew gum while you take the test you can access the memory quicker. You know, clicking your bookmark online is much faster than googling for the information. Same thing.”

  Sabrina abandoned her fries and got down to seriously studying.

  “Is that true?” Mitzy asked as she and Ben split the fries, “Or did you just want more of these?”

  “Both,” Ben said, turning back to his computer with a fist full of fries.

  Mitzy watched the shivering leaves outside the front window of her real estate office as she munched the fries. She needed to convince Ben to get his license now. Then the two of them could run the business while she got the inn up and going.

  On one side of Mitzy’s desk were requisitions for construction materials. They came to her because she was running the money. Until Alonzo’s business loan was paid off Mitzy felt uneasy. She hadn’t had as much as a credit card since her 21st birthday. One late payment on Alonzo’s loan and their plans could…no. Their plans wouldn’t come crashing down. They would just pay their bills. Mitzy was grateful that Alonzo had gotten his bid on the city job. She was obviously the one who was supposed to handle the inn’s accounts now. He was just too busy. If he felt slighted by that, as he was the one who had the real commercial construction experience, he didn’t complain very often.

  In the middle of her desk were notes for her television segment. Once a week she was on First Things with Alma and Bob talking the market and promoting real property anyway she could. Her notes for this week’s segment needed work. And on the far side of her desk were the crumpled, yellow papers salvaged from the inn. A few more hours and she’d be done with them. The one thing missing from the desk of the city’s most successful independent Realtor was a sales contract in process. Mitzy sighed. She loved selling houses and longed for the day when she’d get to sell lots and lots of them again.

  There were plenty of houses for sale. That hadn’t been a problem for two years now.

  The tapping of Joan’s feet as she came tripping down the stairs into the Neuhaus Building’s hall announced she was on her way in. Enmeshed in staging the new office suite, Joan seemed to be always around but never available. Mitzy lifted her hand to wave to her friend as she passed the front window, but Joan stepped into their office.

  “I wish we could enter all of the businesses from the front hall,” Joan said.

  “I suppose,” said Mitzy, “But then it would be an entirely different building.”

  “The back stairs are nice. Everyone can get into their storage from the stairs to the back hall. But no one uses the back stairs to come to work in the morning. How hard would it be to change that?”

  “Well…” Mitzy said with an amused look on her face, “We could build a new front to the building where the sidewalk stretches across the whole building and um…yeah. It’s i
mpossible. Store fronts go on front of the building. Offices go inside. It’s not going to change, in this century at least.”

  “I hate coming outside just to come see you all. Alonzo’s not going to put up with it you know.”

  “Oh, really.” Mitzy was shifting her papers again.

  “You’ll be much too far away downstairs, outside and around the corner.”

  Mitzy chuckled. “I think Alonzo is getting plenty of me these days. He probably wishes he had his offices in Timbuktu. We’ve worked on the inn everyday for the last two weeks. Really, fourteen days in a row.”

  “How romantic,” Sabrina said with a sigh.

  Ben laughed. “I’d probably throttle Jenny if I had to work with her everyday. I predict nothing will come of the big Alonzo-Mitzy romance at this rate.”

  Mitzy sighed and shook her head. “You’re probably right. At this rate we’ll be lucky to exchange a civil word with each other, much less a romantic dinner.”

  “No!” Joan protested. “Don’t give up like that. You’re meant to be together.”

  “Well, we’re definitely together, every stinking day. But fate can be funny and give us exactly what we were looking for at the same time as not even close to what we wanted.”

  “Don’t say that. Come out to dinner tonight with Bruce and me,” Sabrina said.

  “I’d love to, but in the hopes of maybe being able to be friends with Alonzo in the long run, I am going straight home after work and staying there. I will not visit the inn today. I will not call or text Alonzo or Carmella. She is off on a Boy Scout trip with Diego Jr. and Alonzo is at City hall talking about the HuddingtonCommunity Center,” Mitzy said.

  “Where’s Huddington again?” Sabrina asked.

  “They just incorporated, actually. HuddingtonVillage is just this side of Rockwood and eager to get their own reputation. It should be a good diversion for him,” Mitzy explained.

  “Did they do it because of the gangs or just because Rockwood is such a dump?” Sabrina asked.

  “I doubt the part of town they are calling Huddington now wants to be associated with any aspect of Rockwood, whether the reputation is valid or not. If Huddington manages to make a great name for itself it could be very good visibility for Alonzo,” Joan added.

  “I think so too. There are a lot of other government projects out there right now. If the HuddingtonCommunity Center turns out as well as we imagine he might get a few more stimulus money jobs,” Mitzy said. “The Boys and Girls Club have already asked if they could have some of the space there to reach out to the neighborhood and they have a fantastic architect who Alonzo has never worked with before. If they get along well who knows where it could lead.” She wondered if the architect would find it easier to work with Alonzo than she did. She hoped so.

  “Will he be getting a day to spend on his office over here?” Joan asked. She had a notebook filled with ideas for his office.

  “I don’t think so. His assistant is still working out of the old office and all the guys, praise the Lord, are off on jobs right now. There’d be no one to yell at if he was here.” Mitzy grimaced. Alonzo home, she sincerely hoped, was nothing like Alonzo at the work place.

  Alonzo threw the door open and stormed in. “You need to get down to the inn right now.”

  “Well speak of the devil.” Joan said.

  Alonzo ignored Joan.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at City Hall doing something about permits?” Mitzy asked, setting her pencil on top of the yellow pad on her desk.

  “Yes, I am. But I can’t right now. The Feds are back,” Alonzo said.

  Mitzy took a minute to grab a file from the drawer of her desk and then followed Alonzo out and into his pick up.

  At the inn a large unmarked van stood in the drive, near to the front door. Some of the guys from the building crew were standing in front of the door to the inn, while five agents in plain clothes were issuing orders that no one was obeying.

  “What on earth is going on here?” Mitzy asked, feigning dismay.

  Alonzo stayed back at his truck to watch Mitzy in action. He was beginning to understand her value in negotiations.

  “We’re here for the furniture,” a short stocky agent said.

  “I see. You have the warrant?”

  “Don’t make the afternoon more difficult for yourself.” The agent huffed.

  Alonzo called Mitzy’s brother, the lawyer, while she was talking.

  “Why don’t you all come inside,” Mitzy said smiling at the agents. “Excuse us,” she said to the construction crew.

  The crew backed up with a few muttered protests.

  “Why don’t we just go upstairs, pull the furniture and look it over again, okay? There’s no reason to take things you don’t absolutely need.” Mitzy motioned for the agents to climb the historic staircase with its arrow headed newel posts that pointed toward the second floor. Two of the agents stopped to admire the posts, one of them twisting the pointed arrowheads on top. They didn’t come off so the agent went up the stairs. Mitzy kept a step behind them.

  The six of them stood at the top of the stairs.

  “Let’s do this in an orderly manner.” She pointed at a tall, strong looking agent. “Why don’t you and this gentleman,” she gestured to the stocky man, “Carry the pieces out one at a time. You two,” she motioned to a younger man and a female, “Can take notes on what is found. And we,” she indicated the last agent, Detective Backman, in fact, “Can do the actual searching.”

  Detective Backman spoke up. “I’m in charge of this investigation, Neuhaus, and I’ll be giving the orders. Show us where the furniture is. Now.”

  Mitzy walked down the hall and into a large gathering room. She opened a door on the right. The room was stacked tight with furniture. After she and Alonzo had searched and catalogued it they had stored it where it had been found. And after the detectives had searched it just a couple of days ago, they had put it all back again. They were anxious that none of it get damaged during the renovation.

  The two men Mitzy had directed to carry things followed her and eyed the storage.

  “Hey Steph, this is going to be a long job,” the stocky agent said.

  “That’s Detective to you,” Agent Backman said, her mouth set in a line. “Get in there and get the stuff out. Get it downstairs and into the van. Now.”

  Two men wrestled an armoire out of the stuffed room. Mitzy began to pull the drawers out. “You see, Detective, like last time we looked it over, this piece is fine. I think it can stay.”

  Instead of ignoring her again, Detective Backman decided to engage Mitzy in what she felt was the farce. “You can’t see anything. But you are not a federal forensic scientist.”

  The agents tugged a stand up beautiful Victorian standing mirror framed in walnut from the room.

  “Gently now,” Mitzy said. “Antique mirror glass this size is priceless. What do you think the forensic scientists could find out from a mirror? I suppose at some point a lady would have adjusted it once or twice. You’d be looking for fingerprints, I suppose.”

  “That may very well be the case,” Detective Backman said. “But I’m following orders and when I do that, I don’t ask questions.” She moved forward to give a hand to the gentlemen who were sliding a velvet sofa from the room.

  Once the sofa was safely out of the way, Mitzy sat on it. She crossed her long legs and yawned. “So sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day. Are you all doing all right? I could send my assistant to get us something, coffee? Or pop, if you prefer.” One man looked up at Mitzy and opened his mouth. Backman glared at him and he turned back to his work.

  Mitzy kept up her chatter about each piece of furniture as they pulled them out. After a few minutes Alonzo came upstairs and joined her.

  “Hey hon,” she said.

  “Hey,” he replied. Brett was with him.

  “Well hey! What brings you here?” she asked her brother.

  “I just thought I’d come by and ch
eck up on the warrants. We don’t want anyone pressuring you all, or taking things by force that the law wouldn’t allow.”

  Detective Backman held up her hand and the moving guys stopped their work. Mitzy’s heart fell to her knees as Detective Backman pulled a piece of paper from her trench coat pocket and unfolded it for Brett.

  He took his time reading it and then smiled at Detective Backman. “By all means then,” he said comfortably. “Take a peek. No one objects to that.”

  Detective Backman’s face began to turn red, from the neck up, like the mercury rising.

  “I’ve got to get back to work guys. Thanks for calling me Alonzo. They have a sneak and peek warrant, it’s a sort of new fangled way of saying that they know you have a legitimate expectation of privacy and that they are allowed to look anyway, but are not allowed to take anything. Kind of funny in this situation, but I assume it’s the best they could do with their iffy sort of evidence. If you want, I can have one of the guys from the office come and sit here with you, just in case they forget that they can’t take anything.”

  Mitzy stretched her legs out in front of her one at a time, and then stood up. “Oh, don’t bother the boys at work. Alonzo will stay here with me. And Detective Backman wouldn’t let her crew do anything questionable, I’m sure.” She smiled at the detective while she tried to guess how long it would take them to get a warrant for seizure of property. It looked like Mitzy was running out of time to deliver their furniture. She’d have to get something in place immediately.

  Bright and early the next morning Alonzo showed up to supervise the roof repair. “What are these?” He asked. He thumped over to the large white containers in front of the inn.

  “They’re called pods,” Mitzy answered.

  “Yes. I know. But why are they right in the middle of the worksite?”

  “They are for the furniture. They are in the middle of the worksite because the furniture we are loading in them is in the middle of the worksite.” Mitzy indicated the building right behind her with the wave of her hand. “They won’t be here long. The pods guys drop off, we store, and then they pick up again. Just make sure the New York stuff goes in the New York pod and the Los Angeles stuff goes in the Los Angeles Pod.” Mitzy was on the porch of the inn reviewing lists she had balanced on the rail. She was delighted by Alonzo’s consternation. She had predicted it and it had worked out well. Much better than if they had tried to script things. Somewhere on the worksite was a bug that let the FBI agents know everything she was doing and it was sure to have heard her.