Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 03 - Buyer's Remorse by Traci Tyne Hilton Read Free Book Online Page B

store. The winter line at Neveah’s Wardrobe was heavy on wide whale corduroy, velvets, and puffy sleeves. Mitzy picked up the sleeve of a corduroy jacket. It had five mother-of-pearl buttons on the cuff and puffed sleeves that would satisfy even Anne of Green Gables. The handwritten price tag hung from a gold colored thread. $350.
    It was a high end line catering to the dramatic. She pulled the hanger out a ways and checked the label. The label said Alice McNinch. The name was familiar but the clothes didn’t look familiar. Mitzy wondered if the store was a single label store or if Alice was one of many who designed for Neveah’s Wardrobe. And was Alice local talent? Is that why the name seemed familiar? She let the jacket hanger swing back into its place on the rack.
    Mitzy turned to a rack of dresses behind her. Floor length, empire waist with long sleeves. The dresses came in ashy gray, black, and pink. Black satin edging trimmed the pink dresses but the gray and black versions were monochromatic. She checked the label. Also Alice McNinch. If Alice made the clothes, who was Neveah? The owner?
    A small woman with red curls piled high on her head and black glasses slipping down her nose, bustled out of a door at the back of the store. Mitzy looked at her and smiled but the woman didn’t acknowledge her.
    Mitzy moved to a rack of winter coats with faux fur trim. She checked the label first. They were something called Italian Coffee. So it wasn’t a single designer shop. The tag on the floor length coat said $1,100 but the car coat was only $750. Perhaps it was possible to make a good living here. But then, it was Saturday afternoon and Mitzy was the only one in the store despite good foot traffic outside. So maybe it wasn’t easy.
    Finally the woman who had entered the room looked at Mitzy. “Can I start a dressing room for you?” she asked.
    Put off by being ignored, Mitzy decided to skip the subterfuge. “How long had Lara Capet worked here?” she asked.
    The woman’s mouth dropped open slightly and bobbed there for a moment. She held a long string of pearls in her fingers and rubbed them back and forth. “Lara? Dear Lara had been here for years,” she said finally.
    “How many years?” Mitzy asked. She walked to the register and faced the redhead.
    “Well…I…she had been here almost from the beginning.” The lady dabbed her eyes with the lace cuff of her shirt with one hand and worried the pearls with the other.
    “Was this her only job? Was she a student? What was she like as an employee? Careful? Trustworthy?” Mitzy leaned on the counter top, hovering over the register, in the lady’s personal space.
    The redhead stepped back. Her mouth bobbed open like a fish and she shook her head a little. “Who are you?” she finally asked.
    “I’m Mitzy Neuhaus.”
    “I have such a hard time talking about dear Lara. I really don’t think I can answer your questions.” She dabbed at her eyes again.
    A tall thin man in Buddy Holly glasses stepped out of the same back door. He hurried to the redhead. His jeans were low on his skinny hips and held up with a studded belt. He had a crisp plaid shirt tucked into his pants and carefully disarranged black hair. “What’s up, Fiona,” he murmured to the redhead. He gave Mitzy a dirty look. “We’re all really devastated right now,” he said. “And I don’t care if you are Miss Marple. You can’t come in here and badger Fiona.” He squeezed the redhead’s shoulders. Fiona appeared old enough to be his mother. He stood with his feet apart and leaned forward somewhat aggressively as though he was protecting her.
    “Oh David.” Fiona shook her head. “I really can’t talk about Lara. My heart is just breaking still.” Fiona slipped out of David’s embrace and went through the back door.
    David glared at Mitzy. “Who do you think you are?” He asked with one hand perched on his hip.
    Mitzy chewed her lip and considered the answer. “I sold Lara