Mimi Lee Gets a Clue

by Jennifer J. Chow

  My hand deposited sweat marks on the knob as I turned it. I entered to find Principal Hallis sitting in a high-backed chair behind a metal table that looked more like a butcher’s block than a desk. Its uncluttered space held a desktop computer and a picture frame with its back to me.

  The principal narrowed her eyes at me. Not only did her gaze cut me, but everything about her appeared sharp and dangerous. She had severe, gaunt features that made her chin, cheekbones, and nose look like jagged knifepoints. Even her cropped dark brown hair with stylized bangs seemed razor-edged.

  She frowned at me and pointed toward the door. “Do it again. And this time, knock before you enter.”

  I hung my head, walked back out, and knocked.

  “Come in,” her stern voice said.

  I entered with mincing steps. I’d never been reprimanded by a principal or a teacher ever in my life.

  “Close the door,” she said.

  I complied and sat down in the armchair facing her. Made of steel, it seemed to suit the principal’s personality.

  She looked at the circular black clock on a side wall. She let it tick for a few seconds before turning to me. “What did you need to discuss?”

  I tucked my hair behind my ears. “It’s about my sister, Alice Lee.”

  Her nostrils flared, but she nodded for me to continue.

  If I owned some of the blame for yesterday, maybe the principal’s frustration would transfer from Alice to me. I looked Principal Hallis in the face and launched into my prepared apology. “The phone call was entirely my fault, Principal Hallis. Please don’t blame Alice for that.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me again. “Fine, I blame you.” She jutted out her sharp chin. “And why did you feel the need to call Miss Lee and disrupt her classroom?”

  Oh, I hadn’t prepared myself for actual questioning. Better to be vague. No doubt being related to someone in trouble with the law, possibly for murder, wouldn’t improve my sister’s standing. “It was an emergency situation,” I said.

  “Not a school issue.” Her lips pinched together. “Your personal emergency, I gather. One that should have been redirected to a cell phone and left as a message.”

  I cast my eyes down and bowed my head to emphasize my contrition. “Yes, Principal Hallis. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  She glanced at the wall clock. Uh-oh. I was running out of time, and I still needed her to clear Alice’s name. I jiggled my foot under the desk. “My sister really enjoys teaching here. She’s a hard worker, and the kids love her.”

  The principal cocked one thin eyebrow at me. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she said. “One of your sister’s pupils acted out of control during class. You know, I’m currently evaluating staff to see if they’re even qualified to teach at an establishment like Roosevelt Elementary. And typically, when budget cuts occur, the newest members are let go first.”

  I swallowed down my panic. Alice had only recently finished her student teaching position and obtained her credentials. Would she stand any chance against the more tenured teachers here?

  “Glad I made myself clear. This discussion is done.” The principal turned to her computer and peered at the screen.

  However, to end things on a more positive note, I stood up to shake her hand. She didn’t seem to notice my gesture, so I walked over to her side of the steel desk. The sole framed picture on her desk showed the principal handling a hedgehog. It figured that she’d enjoy the company of prickly animals.

  “Thank you for your time,” I said, offering my hand.

  She didn’t shake it, instead waving me away. “Your appointment’s done, and I have a school to run. Don’t forget to close the door behind you.”

  I did as she asked. Outside her door, I stared at the wooden barrier. “Principal Hallis?” I mumbled under my breath. “More like Principal Hellish.”

  I passed by the receptionist, who seemed busy fielding questions from a long line of parents snaking out the front door. Checking the clock, I realized that although the meeting had felt drawn-out, the principal had booted me out of her office in little time. I wondered if I’d helped or hurt Alice with my rehearsed apology.

  As I drove back to the 405 on-ramp, I saw a line of traffic blocking the major road, so I decided to go around through some residential streets near Russ Nolan’s neighborhood. A sign for Oak Lane caught my eye.

  My mind must have recognized the name somehow, because my hands moved the steering wheel and I made a sharp turn down the street. What a change from the worn-out look Russ Nolan’s neighborhood sported, even though the two neighborhoods were within walking distance.

  This street looked elegant, filled with European flavor. In fact, many of the houses had overdosed on Spanish flair. They featured crisp white stucco exteriors that contrasted with the brilliant red of their stylized tiled roofs. I bet mosaic-lined pools could be found in a number of their backyards. And instead of Spain’s popular olive trees, regal palm trees sprouted in trimmed front yards up and down the block.

  I remembered that Shirl, Russ Nolan’s neighbor, had griped about another multi-dog owner named Magnus who lived on Oak. Also, PTA President Tammy had mentioned the same name as someone “in cahoots” with Russ Nolan. As his breeder buddy, wouldn’t Magnus know about Russ Nolan’s possible enemies? People with more motive than me to get rid of Russ? Maybe I could even compile a list of real suspects to present to Detective Brown.

  How could I find Magnus? Cruising down the street, I didn’t have to wait long before I spotted a dog walker. The young woman held five puppies on leashes. Who else would own so many dogs?

  The cute Chihuahuas who trotted next to her wagged their tails. I parked at the curb a few paces behind her. Then I followed the happy pack of dogs on foot.

  The group entered an enormous two-story house at the corner, its width extended the size of two houses. A homey anomaly on Oak Lane with its clapboard siding and buttercup paint, the house exuded a rustic charm. Above the doorway of the double front doors, a wooden sign in the shape of a poodle swung in the breeze. I’d found Magnus Cooper’s place.

  When I knocked on the door, the young woman, a couple of years past her teens, said, “We’re open.” Distracted with the puppies who’d managed to tangle their leashes, she waved me into the house.

  While she tried to separate the dogs, I moved past a steep staircase in the center of the foyer. Past the entryway, I noticed a large muscular man sitting behind an office desk in the space where a dining table could have been.

  “Do you have an appointment?” he asked, looking at me. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” His broad shoulders and football player frame almost dwarfed the impressive oak desk in front of him.

  “I don’t. Sorry.” I moved closer to him. “Would you happen to be Magnus Cooper?”

  The man stood up. At his full height, he towered over me by more than a foot. I had no doubt his trunk-like arms could squash me like an ant if he wanted to.

  “Yes, that’s me,” he said, crossing his arms and making his muscles bulge. “And you would be?”

  Was he possibly shady like Tammy had implied? My voice squeaked when I replied. “Mimi Lee. I’m here about your dogs.” I bit my lip. What would be the best way to guarantee my safety? Flattery often yielded great results. “I’m a pet groomer at Hollywoof. A friend told me about your doggie business. She said you’re one of the best breeders around.”

  He uncrossed his arms, and his gaze softened. “Oh, you want to see my babies? Let me warn you, though—I have a year-long wait list, and it’s only getting longer. But I do have time to give you a quick tour.”

  “That would be fantastic.”

  He addressed the young woman settling down the puppies. “Zel, please stay near the front while I’m gone.”

  Then Magnus led me past the dining area into what would have been a living room in a traditional flo
or plan. In this home, though, there wasn’t any furniture. Instead, I saw a large pen with what appeared to be props. I noticed comfy cushions, plastic flowers, and silk ribbons inside the gated area. Seeing me stare at the space, Magnus said, “That’s for staging our photo shoots. I also sell puppy cards and calendars.”

  We wove our way across an open kitchen with sleek marble counters and chrome appliances.

  “Nice place,” I said.

  “Gone to the dogs, though,” he said, slapping his thigh with a chuckle. “At least on the ground floor. The upstairs is still mine. Anyway, this way to the puppies . . .”

  He led me through the kitchen door and out back. I marveled at the immense backyard, complete with a fenced-in dog run and toys scattered across the ground. At the rear of the yard stood a warehouse-looking structure, which backed up to an industrial road. Beyond the concrete wall, I could see businesses and hear zooming cars. I wondered again about the vast amount of space Magnus owned. “Gee, this is enough yard for two houses,” I said.

  He grunted. “It is two houses’ worth. I bought lots next to each other. Well, I inherited one and made a deal for the other that the previous owner couldn’t refuse.”

  What kind of an offer? He didn’t seem to scream money with his twill shirt and Levi’s, but he owned two properties and had upgraded his kitchen to include modern amenities. And the warehouse we were strolling toward looked like it had cost a fortune to build.

  Without using a key or an entry pad, he slid open the door. “It’s not secured?” I asked.

  “I keep it unlocked on purpose,” he said. “In case of a fire. That way we can get the dogs out quickly.”

  When we went inside the warehouse, an immediate cool breeze hit my face. “Is that air-conditioning?” I asked.

  Magnus pointed to a thermostat near the entrance. “Climate control makes sure that my dogs are healthy and happy.”

  From the cacophony of happy yipping at our arrival, I estimated a fair amount of dogs in the warehouse. We walked past rows of cages, and most of the dogs seemed curious about us. A few, though, remained occupied with some elaborate play items. Each puppy space seemed well-furnished with chew toys and soft bedding. No unwanted odors permeated the building. In fact, it smelled a bit herbal.

  I sniffed the air. “What’s that fragrance?”

  “Lavender,” Magnus said. “The scent calms the dogs’ nerves.”

  “You seem to really care about your animals,” I said. He didn’t seem very shady. How could Magnus stand being associated with Russ Nolan?

  “Let me show you my prize stud,” Magnus said, grinning.

  He took me inside a pen where a tan Chihuahua strutted his stuff. The dog’s eyes seemed lively, and he tried to jump and lick-attack me upon my entry.

  “What a charmer,” I said, stroking him under the chin.

  “Bogart. He’s a real ladies’ man.” Magnus winked at me. “Sired a number of award-winning pups, in fact. Of course, his latest offspring are in the nursery—”

  “You have a nursery?” I glanced around the warehouse.

  Magnus jerked his thumb to the hidden recesses at the back of the building. “Sure do. Those little guys are too young to be out here alone. They need to be with their mamas.”

  “Wow, you really run a top-notch operation.” I hesitated. “I’m not sure why you’d partner with Russ Nol—”

  “Russ Nolan?” Magnus ground out the name through clenched teeth. “You think I’ve worked with him? No way. I can’t stand the guy.”

  “But I thought he was your fellow breeder.”

  “I don’t call what he does breeding. Breeders take care of their babies.” Magnus patted the silky coat of Bogart. Not a hair was out of place, and his toenails also seemed to have been trimmed.

  Remembering the extreme disarray at Russ Nolan’s house, I said, “That’s what I don’t get. You two seem polar opposites. But I heard your names mentioned together.”

  Magnus frowned and led me away from Bogart’s space. I followed the breeder as he stomped his way back to the main house. “Russ isn’t in the same league as me. For one, I’m accredited by AKC, the American Kennel Club. I think he got approval from some sketchy organization known as American Dog Makers.”

  When we entered the house, I saw Zel kneeling in the photo shoot pen, arranging the five puppies she’d just finished walking. She wanted to place them inside a white wicker basket, but they kept scrambling out.

  Magnus climbed over the gate to organize the dogs, and I couldn’t help noticing how he picked up the puppies with such ease. He seemed more like he was plucking blueberries from a bush than hauling wiggling animals.

  He lined the pups in a row, his large hands stroking their backs to calm them down.

  Curious about how Magnus would react to the news, I said, “By the way, did you hear that Russ Nolan died the other day?”

  His hands continued their smooth motion. He swiveled his head toward me. “I didn’t know that. Well, I hope you enjoyed the tour, Mimi.” Then he turned his back on me, the bulk of his body shifting like a powerful ocean liner.

  I walked out of his home, confused. I couldn’t quite figure Magnus out. He seemed so gentle with his dogs. Yet he hadn’t masked his extreme dislike of Russ Nolan. He also hadn’t seemed surprised about the other man’s death. In fact, his hands hadn’t skipped a beat as he’d stroked his dogs. Perhaps he’d already known about the grim news. Could he, in fact, have killed Russ Nolan?

  CHAPTER

  eight

  STILL THINKING ABOUT my uneasy visit with Magnus, I picked up Marshmallow from home and drove to Hollywoof. On autopilot, I opened up shop. Had I been speaking to a dangerous murderer? It was hard to say without any more details about Russ Nolan’s demise to shed light on the actual killer.

  I kept my hands busy tidying up the store, but my mind remained spinning in circles. After an hour of dazed cleaning, I heard the bell jingle.

  A familiar female figure entered. She swung her handbag with metallic hardware as she strode in. Behind her, I spied a poor pooch trapped in a metal contraption. The dog was strapped into the open front space of the doggie wheelchair, while two wheels took up the rear of the device.

  “Tammy?” I said, putting the cleaning supplies away. “What a nice surprise.”

  “I’m pretty much at Armstrong Academy every day, but I had a free spot between manning the school library, coordinating the bake sale, and preparing for my class—I’m also a docent in the volunteer parent-led program. Poor Kale has been stuck in the house, and she really needed to get out. It’s too bad they don’t allow dogs on campus.”

  From his prime window seat, Marshmallow’s ears pricked up. “Kale? I still can’t believe she named her puppy that. And I thought Marshmallow was bad.”

  I coughed to hide my laugh. “Let’s see about the poor dear,” I said to Tammy.

  Kale’s coat looked shiny and well-maintained. She seemed less than peppy, but given the wheelchair situation, I could understand her sore attitude. “What can I do for Kale? She looks great already, and I don’t want to put any undue stress on her limbs.”

  “It’s a simple task, and I’ve got exactly what you’ll need in my purse.” Tammy pulled out a Ziploc with a tiny bottle in it. “Can’t have any paint spilling and ruining my precious bag.”

  “What exactly is that?”

  “Puppy polish.”

  How would I prep for that? I didn’t have to push back cuticles. Did I need to buff the nails first?

  She mistook my bewilderment. “Sorry, I brought my own organic version instead of having you use whatever you’ve got in stock.”

  I hadn’t even known they sold beauty products like this for dogs. I’d have to increase my awareness of special grooming techniques, and I would add puppy nail polish to my wish list for future pet shop splurges. “So, let me get this
straight. You want me to give Kale . . . a pedicure.”

  “Yes. It’ll be a sure pick-me-up for her. Plus”—Tammy flashed her own neon green nails at me—“then we can match. You can even add a design, like a simple flower.”

  “Er, maybe next time.”

  “Fine.” She pointed at the pleather benches nearby. “I would like to watch the fun, though. Could you do the polish out here?”

  “Of course. Besides, I might need you to hold her as I paint.” While Tammy settled Kale on one of the benches, I excused myself to grab the nail buffer. It couldn’t be too difficult, right? I’d done my own nails plenty of times before.

  When I returned, Tammy held out one of Kale’s paws for me to work on. I quickly made her nails smooth and rounded.

  Then I picked up Tammy’s nail polish. The label on it read “Electric Lime.”

  As I swiped on the Ghostbusters slime color, I asked Tammy, “Do you think Kale will need surgery?”

  She groaned. “I’m trying to book an appointment with the Surgical Center for Canine Companions, but the top surgeon’s so busy. Kale might be in a doggie wheelchair for a while.”

  “What a shame.” I finished Kale’s first paw and lifted another one. “It’s strange, but all the puppies that I’ve seen from Russ Nolan have had some issues with their legs. Do you think it’s the poor housing environment there? Or maybe something genetic?”

  “I don’t think it’s inherited.” Tammy’s smooth, manicured fingers plucked a sleek iPhone from her bag. She tapped on it and showed me a picture of a dog with a gold medal around its neck. “Look at this photo of Kale’s father, an award-winning stunner.”

  That furry face on the phone seemed very familiar.

  Tammy continued, “He’s a prizewinning dog from Magnus Cooper. I still don’t know why someone with his good rep would work with the likes of Russ Nolan.”

  I moved behind the wheelchair and gently lifted one of Kale’s hind paws. “Me, neither. Are you certain they partnered up?” During my own conversation with Magnus, he had sounded like he loathed being associated with Russ Nolan.