Mimi Lee Gets a Clue

by Jennifer J. Chow

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nicola said, while Shirl grunted.

  Taking their responses as assent, the policewoman left.

  Neither Nicola nor Shirl spotted Marshmallow or me in our hiding spot. Besides, they seemed quite preoccupied with glaring at each other.

  Despite her previous assurance to the cop, Nicola started speaking to Shirl in a screeching tone. “How dare you steal the bracelet.” She marched toward Shirl, who stood unwavering on her front porch.

  Shirl began rapping her newspaper tube against her hand like a nightstick. “Don’t mess with me, missy.”

  “I’m not trying to,” Nicola said. “Give me the bracelet, and I’ll leave you alone. I won’t even report the theft.”

  Shirl frowned, the worry lines on her face creasing even more. “You lost the jewelry, so finders keepers. Besides, I need a bracelet.”

  “It fell off my wrist by accident. The clasp was loose.”

  Shirl shrugged. “You should take better care of your stuff.”

  Nicola shrank before her and clasped her hands together. “Please give it back.”

  Shirl rolled up the sleeve of her sweater. The gold bracelet glittered on her arm. “I don’t think so. It’s quite pretty. Plus, I’m an animal lover, so the bone pendant fits me.”

  Marshmallow commented, “A cat’s claw would have looked better.”

  At that point, Nicola tried to grab the bracelet, but Shirl dodged her. The older lady still had quick reflexes.

  “Why do you even want it?” Shirl asked. “You don’t need a trinket from that slimy Russ Nolan. Do you know he didn’t waste a minute after you left that night? He had another woman come by soon after.”

  Nicola staggered like she’d been slapped. “That’s a lie.”

  “Believe it or not, but I’m telling you what I saw.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t a present from Russ.” Nicola took a deep breath. “I might get into big trouble for losing it . . . because the bracelet belongs to my boss.”

  Shirl eyed Nicola’s formal suit with distaste. “Then I’m sure your boss will have an expensive insurance policy to cover the loss.” She slammed the door in Nicola’s face.

  Nicola remained on the porch, her hands clenched at her sides. A minute later, I heard the loud blare of TV from within the house.

  I walked over and placed an arm on Nicola’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  She turned to me and blinked. “Mimi? Why are you here?”

  “Oh, I was nearby . . . completing some mobile grooming work.”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth. “What? Was I so loud that you could hear me down the street?”

  “No. Marshmallow and I just happened to be strolling around the neighborhood after I finished my job. Let me walk you back to your car. You can’t hang around here much longer.”

  Nicola’s face crumpled. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  I looked around the street. “What kind of car do you drive, anyway?”

  She moved with leaden steps away from Shirl’s house. “I took an Uber. My clunker broke down a week ago, and I can’t afford a new one.”

  “Well, where do you need to go? I can take you there.” I doubted Nicola would be fine if left alone. Her face looked drained of color, and she seemed ready to collapse in a heap on the sidewalk.

  “I already called in sick today. Thought I could sort this matter out quickly. I figured the neighbor would be more understanding.”

  Ha. If only she knew how Shirl had sold me out to Detective Brown.

  “We could go grab a cup of coffee,” I said. “I’ll make the time.”

  She closed her eyes. “Just take me home.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you safely to your place, then.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Nicola lived in a cramped apartment on the second floor of a sprawling complex. When I climbed the staircase, it creaked beneath my feet. Rust flaked off every time I touched the tottering handrail. Beside me, Marshmallow complained about the lack of elevators.

  Inside Nicola’s one-bedroom apartment, I felt claustrophobic. It seemed more like a studio that someone had sectioned into two lopsided parts by throwing up a random wall.

  However, she’d decorated the space with strings of twinkling lights in an attempt to create a cheerier atmosphere. It didn’t work.

  In the main room, Nicola had jammed an upholstered armchair into one corner. She curled up in it, and Marshmallow positioned himself under her feet like a furry footrest.

  I stood before her while she moaned. “What was I thinking?” she said. “I wasted my time going there.”

  Marshmallow wiggled out from under her legs and climbed into her lap. Nicola started petting his soft fur, and it seemed to help her. “I didn’t get back the bracelet like I’d planned on.”

  “Yeah, Shirl is one tough cookie.”

  Nicola’s mouth dropped open, and she placed Marshmallow on the floor. “Oh no. Where are my manners? I’m a horrible hostess.”

  She went to the tiny alcove she called a kitchen and rummaged through her cabinets.

  “I don’t need anything, Nicola. Really. Come back and relax.”

  “I’ll find something for you. Have a seat while I look.”

  Besides the breakfast counter near the kitchen with two wobbly-looking wooden stools, the only furniture in the apartment appeared to be the armchair Nicola had vacated. I perched on its armrest in case she wanted to return and reclaim her seat.

  Nicola managed to find a bag of cookies and arranged some on a plate for me. She bustled over and said, “Go ahead and eat.”

  Out of politeness, I took one. The cookie tasted odd. How long had she kept that bag in the pantry?

  She saw my tentative chewing. “I forgot to tell you. They’re gluten-free.” Her eyes misted.

  “Are you okay, Nicola?”

  She took a cookie and stared at it. “Russ was sensitive to gluten, too. Besides the stargazing, we had allergies in common.”

  “You miss him, huh?”

  She placed her uneaten cookie back on the plate. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even know him that long. And the fact that he had another woman over . . .”

  “Shirl could’ve been saying that to get a rise out of you.”

  Marshmallow blinked at me. “Do you really believe that?”

  I shrugged.

  “You know Shirl better than me,” Nicola said, leaning in close. The plate of cookies threatened to fall on my lap. “You could talk her into giving the bracelet back.”

  “Er . . .” I didn’t really want to go against Shirl again. Last time hadn’t turned out so well.

  Nicola’s lip quivered. “What if Mrs. Dalton thinks I stole it? I was only borrowing it, but she wouldn’t understand. She’d probably fire me on the spot.”

  Being in Los Angeles, the lifestyle of the rich and famous seemed so close you could touch it, and Nicola had. The temptation to want more could be intense—not that I’d ever pretended to exude wealth.

  But I knew what it was like to struggle and be at the bottom of the totem pole. I’d done my fair share of demeaning pet duties for sure. The worst was when I was a designated pooper scooper. I hadn’t even been allowed to walk the dog. Instead, I had followed the owner around with a plastic bag.

  “Please,” Nicola said. “I need Mrs. Dalton on my side. She has the ear of her husband, and she can be my way into the movie industry.”

  “Say what?”

  “The assistant job is a temporary gig. Once I get Mr. Dalton’s attention, then I can land a juicy role.”

  I could almost see the stars glittering in her eyes. Did I really want to be the one to destroy her naive dream?

  And who knew—maybe her ploy could work. After all, I’d gotten a big break after
I’d rescued Gelato. This was Hollywood, where happy endings were crafted.

  I sighed. “Okay, I’ll do my best to get it back.” Of course, I didn’t have a clue about how I would do so, but I tacked retrieving the bracelet onto my growing list of difficulties. It would pair well with getting Detective Brown off my case and redeeming Josh in my family’s eyes.

  CHAPTER

  twenty-three

  AT HOLLYWOOF, MY only tasks for the remainder of the day involved two easy paw-trimming appointments with customers who’d picked up my card at Indira’s pool party. Still, after experiencing Nicola and Shirl’s catfight in the morning, I felt exhausted when closing time came.

  While driving home in the evening, I wondered what edible items I might zap in the microwave for a quick dinner. Or maybe I could pop open a can. Couldn’t Marshmallow and I just share some sardines?

  Imagine my surprise when I saw a bouquet of roses resting on my doormat. Luscious red blossoms burst above clear cellophane wrapping. A note lay tucked between the bright fragrant petals:

  Mimi,

  You’re invited for dinner tonight. Come by when you get home.

  Josh

  P.S. Sorry about the messy lawyer handwriting.

  I picked up the bundle of roses and buried my face in them. Their lush smell made me feel super cherished.

  Marshmallow tapped the bottom edge of the apartment door with his paw. “Whenever you’re done daydreaming . . .”

  I unlocked it and let him inside. As I searched for a flower vase, I hummed.

  Huh. It didn’t look like I had any proper floral containers, so I made do with an empty gallon-size can of soy sauce I’d gotten from the bulk store.

  I filled up a bowl of food for Marshmallow and said, “You’re on your own tonight. I’ve got a hot date.”

  “Make it back before your curfew,” Marshmallow mumbled.

  I patted him on his head. “Don’t be jealous.” Then I bolted into my room to change into a nicer pair of jeans and a ruffled top.

  My heart beat fast as I headed over to unit number one and rapped on the door. Josh opened up after several knocks. He’d dressed down from the fancy attire he’d worn for the charity event, but he still looked casual cute.

  He wore a slouchy flannel shirt so soft I wanted to snuggle up against it. I breathed in his usual delicious scent of pine and earthy goodness.

  His apartment looked dimmer than I remembered. On second glance, I realized he’d turned off all the lights. In their stead, he’d scattered lit candles.

  On the fish-shaped dining table, he’d set up a silver candelabra. Tall white candlesticks dripped layers of wax down their sides.

  I turned to Josh. “How long have you been waiting for me to arrive?”

  “All my life,” he quipped, giving me a lopsided grin.

  “Oh, is that what’s for dinner?”

  He gave me a blank look.

  “Cheese?” I laughed at my own joke. “But seriously, isn’t dinner cold by now?”

  “I thought of that.” With a gentle touch on my back, Josh maneuvered me over to the humuhumunukunukuapua`a table, set for two.

  I fiddled with the fancy cloth napkin and tested the weight of the heavy porcelain plate before me while Josh brought over the food. “Poke and Spam musubi,” he said. “Already cold.”

  I oohed over the dishes. The poke featured fresh ahi tuna, gleaming tender and pink. The Spam musubi was tucked into tight rolls. Though I didn’t prefer eating processed meat, I liked the savory combo of roasted seaweed, rice, and Spam.

  After a few bites, Josh ran his hand through his hair. “I do need to share a bit of news with you first. Then the rest of the night can be about us.”

  I nodded for him to continue. Besides, my mouth was too full of Spam to speak.

  “I went to the courthouse and looked at the records.”

  Swallowing, I said, “What did you discover?”

  “I didn’t get to the fine details, but here’s a quick summary: Tammy sued Russ Nolan, claiming he’d sold her a defective animal. She even got her vet to sign something certifying the puppy’s poor medical condition.”

  I picked up another roll of musubi. “What was the name of the vet?”

  “Dr. Exi.”

  “Huh.” I bit into the seaweed and swallowed. “Thanks for tracking down that info for me.”

  He smiled, the flickering candlelight making his face appear to glow even brighter with happiness. “I love helping you.”

  Really? I felt my own joyous flame rise up inside me.

  Over dinner, we continued to chat about the small and big issues in our lives. I talked about Hollywoof and my family—whom he still needed to win over because of his Family Game Night absence. He spoke about his upcoming court dates, the thankless job of filing paperwork, and the absurdities of office politics. I didn’t mind listening. I liked him sharing about his daily struggles and triumphs.

  When the hour grew late and my eyes started drooping, he walked me back to my apartment. In the soft moonlight, he gave me a sweet kiss on the lips, and I floated like my very own shining star in the sky. Luminescent, I crawled into bed.

  * * *

  • • •

  When morning came, I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted to linger in sweet dreamland. Or at least relive last night’s tender moments.

  But then I started having trouble breathing. Was I having a heart attack? Twenty-five seemed too young to have a major cardiac problem without any prior symptoms.

  I checked my heartbeat—and felt fur instead. My eyes flew open. “Marshmallow! I told you not to sleep on my bed.”

  “Sorry, not sorry,” he said as I sat up, rubbing my chest.

  “Thought I was having a heart attack back there. I panicked about needing to see a doctor.”

  My words echoed something Josh had told me the night before. I realized how I could further the goal of clearing my name, but I might need to twist Marshmallow’s paw to do so.

  I left Marshmallow dozing on my bed while I snuck out to the living room and made a quick phone call. Due to a cancellation, I managed to snag an appointment with Dr. Exi, Tammy’s vet.

  At the vet’s office, I surveyed the jungle-themed waiting room. The receptionist sat behind a curved desk with strategically placed stuffed wild animals. After only a short wait, we were directed to an examination room.

  The small space housed a sink, a computer station, and a centralized table. Photos of pet patients were pinned to large corkboards hung on the walls. Dr. Exi appeared to take on all sorts of animals: dogs, cats, lizards, frogs, and more.

  I placed Marshmallow down on the table in the middle of the room.

  “Tell me why we’re here again,” he said.

  “I need info from Dr. Exi. He’s the vet who gave evidence to support Tammy’s lawsuit.”

  “And I’m the guinea pig?”

  “No, you’re the extremely helpful cat. Who, truth be told, does need a checkup.”

  “I get it. I’m the decoy.”

  The door clicked open, and we both focused our attention on the man entering. Dr. Exi wore powder blue scrubs and gave us a sharp grin. He possessed straightened Hollywood teeth, but I almost expected a pair of fangs to jut from his gums. His sallow skin and dark, inky hair made me think of Transylvania. Maybe that’s why I got an opening so easily: Pets—or their owners—were scared of him.

  The veterinarian introduced himself and extended his hand to me.

  I grasped it, relieved to find that his body temperature seemed normal. “Mimi Lee,” I said. “Exi’s a unique surname.”

  “I get that a lot.” His voice droned, like he’d explained it a million times before. “The immigration officers couldn’t understand my grandfather’s accent, so now I’m stuck with Exi.”

  “Come to think of it, I
’ve heard your name mentioned by one of my grooming customers. Tammy? She owns a cute Chihuahua named Kale.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Yes, the PTA president. She practically controls Armstrong Academy, my son’s school.” No love lost between Dr. Exi and Tammy, then.

  Moving over to the table, Dr. Exi said, “And who do we have here?”

  “My wonderful cat, Marshmallow. My sister gave him to me. She picked him up from a rescue shelter.”

  “A fine specimen,” Dr. Exi said.

  Marshmallow purred at the praise.

  “Maybe a tad heavy, though?” I placed my hand against my heart in remembrance of his weight.

  Marshmallow stiffened on the table. “Hey, that’s all fur.”

  “Let’s see,” Dr. Exi said, placing Marshmallow on a scale.

  Marshmallow glanced at the numbers. “That’s normal, right?”

  Dr. Exi rubbed his pointy chin. “A little heavier than I’d like. He’s not called Marshmallow because of his food choices, right?”

  Marshmallow glared at me. “I hate that name.”

  “He eats healthy cat food,” I said.

  The vet placed Marshmallow back on the table and examined my cat’s eyes and ears. As he jotted down notes, I tried to steer the conversation back to Tammy. “So, while I was grooming poor Kale, I noticed something wrong with her legs . . .”

  Dr. Exi shook his head. “Unfortunately, a genetic condition. It was so bad I prescribed some ketamine injections.”

  Dr. Exi then whipped out a thermometer and approached Marshmallow’s rear.

  Uh-oh.

  Marshmallow hissed and gave me a death glare. “This exam is now officially a pain in the butt.”

  “Normal temp,” Dr. Exi said. “Your cat’s as fit as a fiddle besides the weight. You can pick up some information about balanced diets outside. We have brochures stocked in the waiting area.”

  I cuddled Marshmallow. “You were a superstar.”

  “Hope all that prodding was worth it,” he grumbled, shifting his bottom on the table.

  Dr. Exi scratched his head. “One thing I was wondering. Has your cat been microchipped?”