Mimi Lee Gets a Clue

by Jennifer J. Chow

  “Wait. What are you talking about?” I knew the answers lay close to me, right there in the filing cabinet. I couldn’t resist and reached for it.

  The volunteer didn’t stop me. He sat there dazed, wringing his hands, while I yanked on the drawers.

  Not much security after all. The cabinet was unlocked. Rifling through the folders, I found one marked “Russ Nolan.” Not caring if it got me in trouble, I took out the most recent papers and read through them, flipping past an official-looking complaint with a scrawled signature and on to the dog-breeding records.

  The documents listed a batch of puppies registered to Russ Nolan, but the name of the sire was crossed out. I brought the papers up to the light and could make out the typed print beneath the slashes of ink: “Bogart.”

  I let out a low whistle. “So Magnus Cooper did partner with him.”

  The volunteer shook his head hard. “No, he didn’t. Russ paid me to insert the sire on record.” He looked at me with pleading eyes, with a droopy face as sad as a hound dog’s. “But I didn’t put in Bogart’s name myself. Russ typed it. That makes me actually innocent of doctoring the papers, right?”

  “Sorry. I’m not a lawyer.” I pointed to Bogart’s name on the sheet. “Did Magnus know about this?”

  “That’s why it’s crossed out. I wasn’t here when Magnus stormed the office. Thank goodness, because I heard he’s massive.” The volunteer started trembling again and almost fell off his stool. “He could probably crush my skull with his bare hands.”

  I returned everything back to the file cabinet. After promising the volunteer I would keep him out of the murder investigation, I left.

  But the young man’s comment left me with a disturbing image. Magnus did look strong enough to smash a skull . . . and I knew that Russ Nolan had died from head trauma.

  Magnus also seemed to have a huge motive. After all, Russ Nolan had faked Bogart’s name in a public record, threatening Magnus’s once-stellar reputation.

  CHAPTER

  fourteen

  I FOUND MYSELF TRAVELING to Magnus Cooper’s house once more. He seemed to be a top suspect, and I might be able to find some evidence at his house.

  Though it wasn’t typical business hours, I figured he’d be in. The man did live upstairs.

  I even took Marshmallow. That way Josh couldn’t complain I’d gone alone if he ever found out. I could just picture him with a cute worry line creasing his forehead. Though Josh had deemed Magnus as possibly dangerous, I felt confident going in with my feisty feline.

  When I arrived, though, Marshmallow shrank back. “Is this really a good idea?”

  “Come on. Are you a chicken or a cat?” I said.

  “Better a live chicken than a dead cat.”

  Sometimes I wondered how I’d gotten roped into partnering with my pet. Cats made for lousy backups.

  Grumbling at Marshmallow, I decided to leave him on the porch below the swaying poodle sign as lookout. “If I don’t come out in ten minutes, go over to Shirl’s. Jump on her phone’s buttons and dial 9-1-1.”

  “Isn’t Shirl’s house a long way to walk?”

  I frowned. “It’s two streets over that way.”

  “Maybe I could stay here and yowl for help.”

  I sighed and made sure I could easily reach my cell phone just in case. Then I rang the doorbell.

  To my surprise, Zel, the assistant from the other day, opened it.

  I startled. “Oh, hello. You work weekends, too?”

  She offered me a tight smile. “Room and board comes with the job.”

  Oh-kay. I knew housing in L.A. was expensive, but did someone really need to take on a sketchy position—one that involved living with a man decades older?

  After a beat, I asked, “Um, is Mr. Cooper around?”

  She nodded and stepped back into the foyer with the staircase. Then she pivoted her head up toward the second floor and shouted, “Magnus, you have company.”

  Loud clomping sounded from upstairs. When Magnus spotted me standing in the doorway, he hesitated on the steps. A dark cloud settled on his face, but he trudged along and met me at the bottom.

  “Mimi,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  Maybe I should have started with something enticing to reel him in. Let him know that I already knew his secret and sympathized with him. “It’s a shame that Russ Nolan cheated you by changing the rec—” I cut a quick glance at Zel and paused. Would he want his affairs spelled out in front of staff?

  “Don’t worry, she’s family.” He gestured toward his imposing desk. “You might as well come inside and have a seat.”

  Zel gave me a sheepish grin as she let me in. “I really am related to him. Magnus is my uncle.” That explained the casual way she’d called him to come down the stairs.

  I sat down while Zel traveled to the kitchen and busied herself with wiping down the sleek countertops.

  Magnus sat before me at his desk, cracking his massive knuckles. “You know about ADM.”

  “Yes, the records for Russ Nolan’s dogs wrongly pointed to Bogart as the sire.”

  “He muddied my name.” Magnus stopped cracking his knuckles and clenched his hands into fists.

  “How did you find out about those records?” I asked.

  He banged a heavy fist against his desk. “A fellow breeder told me at a dog show, right after Bogart won. This envious colleague let me know Bogart wasn’t so special, having mated with the likes of Russ Nolan’s female dam.”

  Deciding to get on Magnus’s good side, I shook my head. “What a mean guy to question your reputation.”

  He clenched his hands even harder, making the veins on his arm pop up. “It’s blasphemy. Basically, he attacked the quality of my pups. Like I’d breed weak puppies with leg defects—”

  “What?” I tugged at my ear. “Did you say something about the puppies and their legs? How do you know about that?”

  Magnus stared at a space to the right of my head for several moments. Then he settled his gaze back on me. “Russ Nolan inbred his dogs instead of keeping them genetically diverse. That makes it easy for them to get health conditions like patella luxation.”

  “What exactly is that?” I leaned toward Magnus. Was that why all the Chihuahuas connected to Russ Nolan dragged their legs?

  “It’s when their kneecaps go out of position.”

  I tapped my chin. Should I ask him more? I hoped I’d gotten enough on his good side for him to feel unthreatened. “Tell me how you know about those puppies. It’s not like you met them face-to-face, since Bogart didn’t sire them . . .”

  But then it hit me. The aromatherapy-like scent that Marshmallow had detected in the vacated puppy room at Russ Nolan’s home. A familiar smell I’d also sniffed here inside Magnus’s warehouse. The herbal whiff of lavender.

  I blurted out my revelation. “You were there, at the house that night.” I backed my chair away and peeked into the kitchen. To my relief, I saw Zel still scrubbing away. At least there would be a witness if something bad happened to me.

  Magnus pierced me with his gaze.

  My throat closed up, and I squeaked out my next words. “The lavender. I smelled it in the enclosed room at Russ Nolan’s house. And I know you use it in your kennel to calm down the dogs.”

  Magnus ran his large hand over his hair, making it stand on end. “Okay, I admit it. I had to do something. Those dogs were being mistreated, in danger.”

  I nodded, remembering the sick sight. “All those puppies jammed together into one room, and the smell—” I pinched my nose.

  “You, as an animal lover, should understand. I had to get them out of there.”

  It made sense. Magnus had the know-how to rescue the dogs. And the space.

  Worried about those poor pooches, I had to ask. “Where are they now?” I hadn’t seen any sign of
the puppies the last time I’d come.

  “Of course I didn’t show you when I gave you the tour. They were, naturally, in the nursery. Best to keep the babies in a cozy space. I want to find owners for them soon, though. Can’t afford to house the puppies forever.”

  “I don’t understand. How did you get past Russ Nolan? I assume he wouldn’t just hand the dogs over to you.”

  Magnus stretched his forbidding arms and placed them behind his head. “I could have easily persuaded him. When I went over, that lazy bum had fallen asleep in his chair in the yard.”

  “You saw him sitting outside?” Shirl had mentioned that Russ Nolan conked out in the backyard every night.

  “I peeked over there. Moved those dogs as quick as I could. That deep sleeper didn’t move a muscle.”

  Interesting. Russ Nolan had slept like the dead—unless he had actually already died.

  I examined the hulking frame of Magnus once more. The man before me may very well have done the deed.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Well, I’m glad those puppies are well looked after now.”

  Magnus gave a curt nod. “Someone’s gotta look out for the defenseless.”

  I made an obvious gesture of checking my phone. “Look at the time. I better get going.”

  He let me leave without any trouble. I almost skipped over to the front door in my haste.

  On the threshold, I glanced back. Magnus sat at his desk, brooding.

  He would make a likely culprit. A giant of a man, he could have easily delivered the fatal blow to Russ Nolan. And he’d confessed to taking the pups.

  That sounded like two clear motives to me. Magnus could’ve gotten rid of Russ Nolan because the man had damaged his clean reputation. And he’d get to save the puppies, to boot.

  I exited and found Marshmallow lying on the porch. Upon seeing me, he said, “Good, you’re alive . . . because I’m starving.”

  Glad he had his priorities straight.

  We went back home, and after appeasing Marshmallow’s stomach, I decided it was time for me to make a very important phone call to clear my name. I made sure to enclose myself in the privacy of my bedroom so Marshmallow couldn’t disturb me. I’d seen him drift into a dazed food coma state. The last thing I needed was his siren cat snores disturbing my phone conversation.

  I sat down on my unkempt bed. The wrinkled comforter featuring a nature scene gave me a sense of ease as I located Detective Brown’s business card and called. I got his voice mail and left a quick message stating that I had new information about the case.

  Within five minutes, he called me back. “Mimi Lee,” he said, “are you ready to spill?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I think you should question Magnus Cooper.” I traced the delicate wings of a butterfly on my faded comforter. “He only lives a few blocks from Russ Nolan.”

  “Yes, the other breeder. I know about him.” Detective Brown’s voice sounded deeper over the phone, like a cannon booming.

  “Oh. Well, are you aware that he had a double motive to kill Russ Nolan?” I ticked them off on my fingers. “One, Russ Nolan muddied his reputation. And two, he wanted to save those puppies.”

  “Do you have actual proof of his guilt?”

  I spluttered. “Have you seen the guy’s arms? He could knock down Russ Nolan with one quick blow.”

  “Ah, but the killer didn’t use his—or her—hands on the victim,” Detective Brown said. “In fact, there were no knuckle marks on the victim’s neck.”

  “Well, Magnus could’ve used something else to hit him. A bat, maybe?”

  “You’re grasping at straws, Miss Lee. You just said he only needed to use his bare hands for the crime.”

  I spotted a frayed seam on my comforter and picked at it. “Magnus did go over that night. He took those pups—”

  Detective Brown gave an exasperated sigh. “Stop it with the dogs. Remember, I’m concerned about the humans in this investigation. And I’m pretty certain Magnus didn’t do it.”

  “How are you so sure?”

  “Because he had an alibi for the hours between eight and ten that evening, the estimated time range for Russ Nolan’s death.”

  “Who vouched for him?” I tugged on the thread, and it spiraled out.

  “His assistant.”

  “You mean his niece. She’s a relative. Of course she would cover for him.” I poked at the growing hole in my comforter and saw some stuffing pop out. “Can you really trust her word?”

  “It’s better than having a cat as an alibi.” A brief pause. “You know, what you’re doing is quite common.”

  “Making sure your investigation is thorough?”

  “No. When a suspect starts blaming somebody else, it’s a classic move. It lets us detectives know that we should take a closer look at them.”

  I gulped.

  “Thank you for making things clear, Miss Lee.” He clicked off the line.

  CHAPTER

  fifteen

  INDIRA WALKED IN through the door of Hollywoof on Monday, looking gorgeous in her workout gear and a fawn suede fanny pack. She exuded health with her glowing brown skin, but her poor dog seemed tuckered out. Indira carried Ash in her arms like the puppy was a wounded soldier.

  My voice wavered. “Are you here for grooming?” I wasn’t sure I could even touch Ash before she yelped in pain.

  Indira shook her head. “I need to help Ash feel better. Do you have any medical suggestions?”

  “You should really ask your vet.”

  She kissed the top of Ash’s head. “I didn’t get one yet. The breeder assured me her shots were up to date, and everything seemed fine until she got this recent leg problem—”

  “It’s called patella luxation.” I pointed to Ash’s legs. “I think it’s genetic. All of Russ Nolan’s dogs seem to have it.”

  “It figures.” She cradled Ash closer to her chest. “And to think I supported the guy. He so reminded me of when I was struggling, so I decided to buy one of his dogs.”

  I blinked at Indira’s beautiful model face. “I didn’t know you had to struggle.”

  “I’m not like the other haughty ladies around here.” Indira headed toward the seating area and lay Ash down on a bench. “I started my business from scratch.”

  “Really?” I went over to where Indira stood. A term from my college psych class came back to me: the halo effect. The idea that attractive people succeeded without effort, were born that way. I’d assumed Indira had run in the same glitzy circle as all the other tiny dog–toting ladies.

  “Surprises a lot of people.” She stroked Ash, who gave a slight wag of her tail. “Ash got her name because of my Cinderella hopes. Actually, this dog has secured most of my customers. Ninety percent of my clients come from dog classes.”

  “Doggie yoga?”

  “Others, too.” She played with the zipper of her fanny pack. “There’s also dog dancing, pet soccer, Mommy-and-me SUPPing . . .”

  “What was that last thing with the initials?”

  “S-U-P-P. Stand-up puppy paddleboarding,” she said.

  “Seriously?” I couldn’t imagine Ash balancing on a board while Indira propelled across the water using a wooden paddle.

  “Ash swims alongside the board and jumps on when she needs a break,” Indira said. Bitterness crept into her voice. “Of course, she can’t do any of that in her current state. Russ Nolan betrayed me.”

  “That’s a strong word to use.”

  “I call it like I see it.” Ash started whimpering, and Indira stroked her fur to soothe her. “What can I do to get Ash back to normal so she can continue serving as the company mascot?”

  I looked at Ash’s bent leg and grimaced. “I’m no vet, but I think she might need surgery. Especially if she’s expected to do so many sports and high-energy activities.”

&nb
sp; “Surgery will cost a fortune.” Indira clenched her hand into a fist. “At first I was sad when my pool boy told me about it. But maybe that jerk breeder got what he deserved.”

  I flinched at her comment.

  “Don’t look so shocked,” Marshmallow said from his corner. “Do you know what I heard when I eavesdropped on her conversation after yoga? Indira walked right up to that receptionist at Downward Doggie and told her to fire the instructor. Remember, the teacher had wanted her out of class for selling goods without participating in the exercises? Talk about a dog-eat-dog world.”

  His turn of phrase made me pause. Should I really be taking suggestions from my biased cat?

  On the other hand, Indira had made an aggressive maneuver. Was that how she’d built her company up so fast—through bold moves?

  Indira snapped her fingers and jolted me from my thoughts. “I’ve got it,” she said. “I can organize a doggie playdate and combine it with a purse party. That should bring in extra money for Ash’s surgery.”

  I couldn’t quite reconcile this new vicious businesswoman side of Indira with the fellow dreamer I admired who, like me, had gone after her passion. After a slight lag, I managed to reply, “Oh, yes, great idea. And you can get some good referrals to vets and surgeons at the same time.”

  She grabbed my arm. “You should come, too. Make sure to invite some of your posh customers.”

  “Uh, I could try.” Thank goodness she didn’t know about my sorry finances and lack of customers.

  “Let me text you my address . . . once I find my cell in here. My bags are too spacious sometimes.” She unzipped her fanny pack. Only after pulling out a deck of cards, a pack of chewing gum, and a mini metal flashlight did she find her phone. She got my digits and proceeded to text me her address.

  When I clicked on the map link, I noticed she lived close to The Strand, blocks away from the beach. “Nice location. Business must be booming.”

  “It’s a rental,” she said. “But don’t tell the others.” She placed the loose items back into her fanny pack and scooped up Ash. “See you later.”