After a few hours spent grooming animals, I managed to clear out all the customers before Josh walked through the door. The bell jingled as Josh’s lean frame came in, and I couldn’t help being reminded of wedding bells chiming. Josh looked like a model out of GQ in his crisp white Oxford shirt with pressed slacks. I glanced down at my own dirty tee and faded jeans in alarm and started wiping off the sand trails clinging to my shirt.
Josh moved in and grinned at me with his sparkling white teeth. “You ready for our special time together?”
“Let me put this sign up, and then we’ll be off.” I positioned the “BE BACK SOON” placard on the front door. Even though I officially closed during the lunch hour, I didn’t want to tick off any new customers who didn’t know.
I locked the door and had almost pulled it shut behind me when a ball of white fur sped through the gap. Safe outside on the tree-lined plaza, Marshmallow stuck his nose in the air. “You weren’t considering leaving me behind, were you?”
Josh raised his eyebrows at Marshmallow.
“Guess the cat’s coming along,” I said.
To his credit, Josh crouched down and spoke to Marshmallow. “Welcome aboard, friend.”
I whispered to Marshmallow, “You know, there is such a thing as a third wheel.”
Marshmallow flicked his tail at me.
* * *
• • •
We ended up parking at the curb, squeezing in next to some garbage cans on the sidewalk in front of Russ Nolan’s house. Must be trash collection day.
A few moments later, an old pickup rumbled onto the driveway. The beat-up truck carried a haul of supplies in its bed, most noticeably a long steel pole with a mesh net attached to it. Pool equipment.
The driver, a tanned man looking the color of burnt toast, got out. He wore a huge straw hat that shaded his face, and he leaned against the cab of his truck while he waited for us to come closer.
“Mimi?” he asked. “I’m Kevin, the owner of this house.”
I shook his hand and proceeded to introduce both Josh and Marshmallow.
“A fine couple like you two will make great renters.” He eyed Josh’s expensive shirt and made a reflex action of rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. Noticing me looking, he hid his hand behind his back.
“We’d like to take a look around first,” Josh said.
“Just a minute,” Kevin said, as he fumbled with the lock on the door.
Meanwhile, Josh tapped the splintering floorboards of the porch with one of his polished dress shoes. “You came here by yourself?” he whispered to me, giving a small shake of his head.
I pretended to flex my muscles in response. His worry disappeared, and he gave me a lopsided grin.
When the door opened with a sharp squeal, Kevin flung his arm out in a grand gesture. “Welcome to your new next home. It even comes prefurnished.”
I braced myself for a disgusting sensory assault, but it didn’t seem as bad as before. Maybe Kevin had neutralized the odor using some sort of chemical spray.
He beamed, two crooked incisors giving him a crazed look. “Of course, I did some tidying up. Though I still need to get the carpet cleaned.”
Marshmallow lifted his paw up and glanced down at the dirty-looking floor. “I’m not going to step into a puddle of blood by accident, am I?”
I addressed Kevin. “Why exactly did the previous tenant leave?”
His eyes shifted from left to right. “Something happened out of the blue, and he had to . . . go away.”
What an understatement. Sounded like Kevin wouldn’t offer up detailed information about Russ Nolan’s death. Maybe he wanted to keep the murder quiet and not scare off prospective renters.
We moved over to the kitchen area, where Josh opened and closed the scarred wooden cabinets. One knob almost fell off in his hand. He also peeked into the pantry. Some foodstuffs still lined the shelves. “Anything we need to know about the property? Is it earthquake safe? In a flood zone?”
“Don’t worry,” Kevin said, touching one of the tarnished cabinet handles. It wobbled. “This house has withstood decades of wear and tear. I grew up in it, and it’s got great bones.”
Josh swiped a finger across the cracked tiled countertop. “Any deaths on the property?”
Kevin pulled off his hat, showing flattened ash-colored hair, and mopped his brow. “There hasn’t been a death inside this house.” He settled the hat back on his head.
Marshmallow hissed. “Liar.”
Josh kept his face blank. “I see. Well, that’s reassuring. Right, sweetheart?” He clasped my hand. Feeling the brush of his fingertips, I froze. Pleasure radiated from my hand to the rest of my body. Could I keep holding his hand forever?
I would’ve stayed in that state, but I noticed Marshmallow slinking away to the shabby living room. A ratty sofa took center court there. Intuiting Marshmallow’s destination, I felt reality hit me, a cold reminder of the recent tragedy.
I cleared my throat and pointed to where Marshmallow waited before the familiar opaque sliding door. “And what’s behind there, Kevin?”
Kevin made his voice sing, rising to a higher tone. “A bonus room, a wonderful addition to an already outstanding floor plan.” He led us into the secret area that had previously housed the mistreated puppies.
I held my breath as we entered, and my fingers squeezed tight around Josh’s hand.
Nobody else seemed fazed by the air in the room. I took a tentative breath in. No stench of excrement this time around. The soundproofing blankets had also been taken down, and the walls had been quick-coated with an uneven layer of white paint. I could smell lingering paint fumes. The lack of windows also made me feel like I was stuck in a panic room.
Marshmallow explored the rectangular space from corner to corner. His nose twitched. “Do you smell that, Mimi?”
“The paint,” I said, fanning my face to get some air moving.
“And a hint of something else,” Marshmallow said. “A scent that wasn’t here when we came during our first visit.”
I took a whiff. The paint fumes gave me a niggle of a headache, but I could sense another odor underneath the varnish. It seemed familiar, something akin to aromatherapy, but I couldn’t quite place it.
But then Josh put his arm around my shoulder and steered me away. “You’re looking queasy,” he said.
I took a few gulps in the more open living room. “Thanks.”
Kevin spoke up. “Maybe you need some fresh air.” He led us to the backyard.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at that area the last time I’d come. Stepping through the glass patio door, I didn’t see much greenery outside. A small concrete patio and a rectangular patch of dirt made up the “yard.” Dried-up leaves scattered across the back area, but they didn’t belong to any tree. Maybe they’d come from the nearby thirsty-looking hedge of bushes or had blown in on a breeze.
I peered at the patch of soil again. It looked disturbed. Instead of a smooth surface, I found little mounds of dirt everywhere, no doubt made during doggie playtime.
Smack in the middle of the backyard, I noticed four small circles ground deep into the earth. Their spacing created a connect-the-dots square shape. “What are those?” I asked.
Kevin gave a slight shudder. “That’s where the prior renter would come to sit and relax at night. The circles are from the legs of the chair pressing into the ground.”
“Where’s the chair now?” I asked.
Kevin dusted off his hands with a grimace. “I threw that thing away this morning. It’s in the bin ready for the garbage truck to collect.”
“Did you throw the rest of his stuff away, too?” If Kevin hadn’t been a true stickler in getting the house ready to rent, I might be able to snag a few clues unnoticed by the cops.
Kevin gave me a sharp look. “How do you k
now the previous tenant was a man?”
“What? Oh, um, by the poor condition of the yard. A woman would have preferred a garden, put in some flowers.” A stretch. I myself had a notorious black thumb. Plants were not my thing.
Josh spoke up, using a soothing tone. “I think my girlfriend wants to know whether this place comes with any extras.”
Nice save. His suave lawyer manner might manage to cover the slip of my tongue.
Kevin grunted. “What you see is what you get.”
“Should we tour the bedrooms now?” I asked. The place where Russ Nolan had slept could be telling.
Kevin gave a sharp shake of his head. “I’m sorry. The bedrooms are sealed. Doing popcorn ceiling removal. This tour’s done now.”
Had I rattled him too much by knowing the gender of Russ Nolan? Josh and I went back to the patio door, but Marshmallow dawdled behind us. “What’s Kevin doing staying in the yard?” he whispered to me.
Maybe he was waiting for us to head in first, but I peered over my shoulder to do a quick check. Kevin seemed rooted in the backyard. He stared down at the patch of ground where the chair had been and made a quick sign of the cross. Before he could catch me spying on him, I swiveled my head and focused on going inside.
We walked toward the front door as a somber group. While Josh made a few comments about different things in the house, like the LED light fixtures and the grounded electrical sockets, I barely kept up the pretense by nodding along. Kevin trailed after us, silent during Josh’s entire commentary.
On the front porch, Kevin told us he could offer a deal on the rental price. When he revealed the amount, Marshmallow’s fur bristled. “What? For that piece of junk?”
“That’s a special price for you fine folks. A steal for this location,” Kevin said.
Josh looked at me and scratched his chin. “We’ll have to think on it. If we do want to pursue this further, we’ll contact you through the website link.”
“Yes, and thanks for the tour,” I said. Maybe some politeness could calm Kevin’s nerves and smooth over my awkward behavior during the tour.
Kevin cleared his throat and spat a gooey mess down on the splintered porch boards. He retreated back inside the house. Through the closed but flimsy front door, I could hear him mutter, “Waste of time. More interested in the renter than the rental.”
I waited until his steps faded away before I spoke up. “Guess I’m never going to win an Oscar for best actress.”
“No kidding,” Josh said. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But I like that about you. I find honesty attractive in a woman.”
A strong heat flushed across my entire body. “Really?”
“Please, no PDA,” Marshmallow said, creeping off the porch. “I might cough up an actual hairball this time.”
Glaring at Marshmallow, I said, “My cat’s trying to make a run for it.”
Passing by Kevin’s pickup to return to the car, I looked at the trash cans on the curbside. Might they still be full?
The side gate of Shirl’s house swung open. She pushed out her own trash bin and placed it at the curb. “Oh, fancy seeing you again,” she said.
She wore another sweatshirt and lounge pants combo. Her top featured the close-up face of a grumpy cat.
Marshmallow strutted by and purred at her.
“How’s my favorite kitty? Too bad I can’t shake your paw right now.” She gestured at the trash bin. “My hands are occupied.”
I interrupted their lovefest. “It’s good to see you again, Shirl. This is my boyfriend, Josh.”
The word “boyfriend” had slipped out like a precious pearl from my tongue.
Josh’s dimple appeared. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said.
Shirl patted down her poofy head of hair. “What manners you have. I guess I won’t keep you from going out with your new beau, Mimi.” She snuck a glance at Marshmallow. “You know, I happened to see your cat in the neighbor’s backyard and was hoping you could show me some of his other tricks.”
Poor Shirl. She must be lonelier than she let on, asking me for company via my cat. “I can stop by tomorrow evening after work,” I said.
“I’ll be free then.”
Marshmallow rubbed up against her leg to say goodbye. After Shirl disappeared through her side gate, I marched over to Russ Nolan’s garbage bin. Pinching my nose, I lifted the lid and peeked in.
Sure enough, a camping chair lay sprawled on top. I picked it up and itemized the junk below: a tattered constellation poster, a supersize cereal box of shredded wheat, chewed-up tennis balls, and an empty wine bottle.
I dropped the chair back down, and Josh turned to me. “Find anything interesting?”
“Not that I could see.”
With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Well, if you’re done dumpster diving, we can get going.”
I nodded. Taking out the antibacterial gel from my purse, I squirted down my hand.
“Let’s grab some lunch,” Josh said. He glanced at his watch and frowned.
Without any time for a real lunch date, we had to go to the In-N-Out drive-thru. Kismet, I thought, as we ordered our hamburgers served the exact same way: animal style.
“Nice choice,” Josh said. “Extra spread with grilled onions.”
“Great minds . . .” I said. Did that mean we were compatible in other areas besides food?
“I really like spending time with you, whether it’s house-hunting or hamburgers.” Josh smiled and made his dimple flash.
After we’d parted ways, his remark lingered with me all the way until closing time. I analyzed every touch he’d given me during the house visit. And I replayed the way he’d said “girlfriend” when talking about me, like he was saying something special and true.
Because of my moony mood, I lost track of time and closed up shop later than usual. When I placed Marshmallow into his carrier in the car, I took a breath to clear my mind—I would need it to prepare myself for his reaction to my next words.
“By the way, we’re not heading home yet.” I told him about the preplanned pit stop.
“Me and a roomful of yoga dogs?” he said. “Just terrific. I hope you don’t expect me to do Gumby-like moves.”
CHAPTER
eleven
DOWNWARD DOGGIE WAS located in a bland business complex. Stolid companies flanked the yoga studio; one neighbor boasted stellar tax advice, while the other offered drop-dead rates on life insurance.
I dragged Marshmallow into the doggie gym’s lobby, where a peppy strawberry blonde greeted me. “Hello! Are you here to register for classes?”
“No, I’m auditing a yoga class, the one Lauren Dalton’s in. Pixie St. James arranged the details.”
“That’s right. Unfortunately, Lauren’s class is almost over, but you can sneak in.” The woman spotted Marshmallow and frowned. “You know the class is for dogs, right?”
“Aren’t you a little pet-ist?” Marshmallow said.
“No problem,” I told the woman. “We won’t disturb anyone. We’ll make sure to sit in the way back and watch.”
The woman directed me to the correct room. When I opened its door, I heard strains of soothing music floating in the air.
I spotted a row of folding chairs near the entrance. Indira occupied one of them. A giant duffel bag lay beneath her feet, and Ash sat on a chair beside her. The puppy rested her head against her paws.
Right after we walked in, the dogs started emitting low growls. They must have smelled Marshmallow.
Ash yipped at them. The dogs quieted down, and Marshmallow explained, “She just vouched for me.”
I shuffled over to Indira and whispered, “May I sit next to you?”
She gave a nod, and I took the unoccupied chair on her left. Then Indira placed a finger to her lips and pointed to a spandex-clad woman.
>
The teacher, I assumed. The woman wore a leotard that clung to her every curve. She said, “Now everyone lie down and stretch across your mat.”
All twenty or so women (minus one) obeyed and lay on their mats. Lauren Dalton, though, wearing a fancy leotard with crisscrossing straps, knelt. She motioned to the frowning young woman beside her, who then plopped down and pressed her face against the mat.
Most of the dogs also stretched out, though a few had to be coaxed or manually positioned. Even Kale tried as best she could while being trapped in a wheelchair. Tammy provided help by moving her paws.
“Deep breath in, and deep breath out,” the instructor continued. “Be united with your dog as you ground yourselves.”
I saw Lauren nodding and beaming down at Sterling, who had stretched across the mat.
The teacher continued to lead the group in a visualization exercise, something about a healing garden. My mind wandered. It didn’t help that Marshmallow also distracted me by providing commentary like, “Dogs are crazy. They look like fur rugs lying there.”
Finally, the teacher ended the class, but the group didn’t disperse right away. They rolled up their mats with languid movements. Maybe they felt so relaxed, they had slowed down their motions.
Meanwhile, the instructor glided over to me. She clasped her hands together and bowed. “Lauren mentioned she’d have a visitor today. I hope you enjoyed the doga class.”
I rubbed at my ear. “Did you say ‘doga’?”
“Oh yes, dog yoga. Surely you’ve heard of it. Feel free to tell any of your canine-loving friends.” The teacher did a double take on seeing Marshmallow. “Although cat-oga might prove promising as well.”
Marshmallow blinked at her. “Did you say ‘cat toga’? Cat toga or cat yoga—both sound horrible, lady.”
From beside me, Indira zipped open her duffel bag and pulled out a fanny pack.
The instructor pursed her lips and turned to my neighbor. “Indira, you know I won’t be able to let you sell your bags if Ash doesn’t get better. This is a doga class, after all, not an arts and crafts bazaar.”
Mimi Lee Gets a Clue Page 8
