CHAPTER

two

I WOKE UP GRUMPY. Maybe last night at the laundry room had been a bad dream. But I saw Josh’s business card peeking at me from the nightstand.

To top it off, Marshmallow had crept under my covers. And as his blue eyes peered into mine, I heard: “Where’s my breakfast, Owner?” I had thought the delusion would stop after a good night’s rest.

I groaned and covered my ears. Somehow I managed to feed us and get out the door.

We arrived at the store at ten on the dot. A few minutes later, a woman looking like a Bollywood star waltzed in. Except she wasn’t wearing a single piece of jewelry, not even a wedding band, and wore workout gear.

She had on black spandex pants with a leather fanny pack and a sweat-wicking top. The exercise clothes didn’t diminish her star quality, though. Long, flowing raven locks framed a slim face of high cheekbones, luscious lips, and doe eyes. A fashion designer’s model face.

“Can I help you?” I asked. Had she come in by mistake?

“Lauren recommended your place because you did such a great job with Sterling.”

Then I noticed the leash trailing from her hand. At her feet sat a very quiet and well-behaved Chihuahua. I smiled at the dog and said, “I see you’ve brought in—”

“Ash. And my name is Indira.”

“Nice to meet you both.” I peered at the brown Chihuahua. “Wow, Ash could be Sterling’s double.”

One of Indira’s groomed eyebrows curved up. “Except she’s a girl.”

“Fraternal twins, then.” I held out my hand for the leash.

“Ash needs a bath.” Her full lips pressed into a thin line. “No need for frivolous accessories like a headband or bow.”

I nodded several times. “Got it.”

Indira peeked at her Apple Watch. “Can’t stay. I have an errand to run.”

“Sure, no problem,” I said as she finally relinquished the lead to me.

I brought Ash to the back. She was a quiet thing with an odd limp that troubled me.

I made sure to plug her ears with cotton to protect the ear canals. Then I placed her on the mat in the sink and turned the water to lukewarm. Shampooing Ash, I reveled in the foamy suds as I massaged her body. When I rinsed her off, she stayed stoic. She didn’t even look tempted to try and shake off her fur.

Even when I moved her to the finishing area and turned on the high-velocity dryer, she didn’t balk. A lot of dogs would’ve been startled by the sound.

As I returned to the front with a groomed Ash, the bell above the door jingled. Indira showed up, reaching for Ash’s leash. She inspected her dog from head to toe, even sniffing at Ash’s body. Thank goodness I’d used a “classic fresh” scent.

Indira gave me a brief nod before heading over to the cash register.

“Biscuit?” I said, pushing the half-full glass jar on the counter forward. I remembered Lauren’s buying spree.

Indira looked at the price tag. “Not for two dollars a pop.”

“They’re homemade.”

She shook her head. Before she opened her bag, she paused. “And don’t forget to give me the grand opening discount.”

All right, lady. Like you can’t afford it. I gestured to her bag. “Love your fanny pack.”

She unzipped it with a hard tug. “It’s a fitness fashion pack.”

“Oh, I see. Hands-free. Quite useful for athletes.” I rang her up and gave her the total.

She checked the prices against the ones listed on the nearby board and seemed to calculate the sum in her head. Then she forked over her gold credit card.

“Indira Patel,” it read. Underneath her name: “Indira’s Designs.”

“What kind of company do you own?” I asked.

She tapped her leather fanny pack. “Luxury bags for the woman on the go.”

“Very fashion forward.” I stuck the card into the machine.

As we waited for the chip to process, she said, “I can expense all sorts of things, even this grooming, because Ash is the company mascot.”

“She’s a lovely dog.” I gave her the receipt. “Where’d you get her?”

“From a breeder I found in the classifieds.”

“What city?” Imagine if I could make a networking connection. I might expand my customer base.

Indira waved her slender hand around. “Somewhere in the Valley. Funny thing is the breeder had two first names.”

“Could it be Russ Nolan?” I asked. The same breeder Lauren had used?

She shrugged. “I can’t recall.”

Sterling had been lethargic, and now Ash was limping. It didn’t seem like it could be a coincidence. I frowned and said, “I wanted to tell you before, Indira—Ash has an odd limp. I think you should go to the vet pronto.”

“She’ll be fine. The breeder said that’s normal. Besides, vet bills add up.” Indira looked at her Apple Watch. “I have to go. My meter’s almost out of time.”

Though parking did cost an arm and a leg in this area, her comment sounded more like an excuse. I needed to say something to save the conversation and keep her as a customer. “Glad you came by. And say hi to Lauren for me.” I put my palms together. “Namaste.”

Her lip curled like she’d tasted durian, the rotten-smelling spiked fruit.

“Er, aren’t you yoga sisters?” I fiddled with the buttons on the cash register. “I thought Lauren mentioned something.”

“We’re yoga parent-mates. Our dogs are in the same Mommy-and-me class.”

She tossed her lustrous hair and exited the store, pulling Ash along.

Watching the Chihuahua leave, I shook my head. Something was wrong with the dogs I’d groomed over the past two days, and I intended to find out what.

I googled Russ Nolan and found an address in the San Fernando Valley. The Valley was close to the mountain ranges of Southern California, north of the urban skyscrapers that made up the downtown L.A. skyline. People lived in the Valley because it offered affordable housing and greater acreage—at the unfortunate expense of hotter weather.

If I left now, I could avoid the dreaded five o’clock rush hour. Because another play on the name for the 405 was “four or five” hours to get anywhere using it.

As I drove, Marshmallow batted at the bars on his crate. “Where are we going?” he kept asking.

I hummed something to tune out the voice. My mind needed to remain clear for the task at hand.

Although I’d imagined a rural plot of land fit for a farm, complete with open spaces for puppies to run wild, I instead found Russ Nolan’s neighborhood near the freeway exit. The residential street held a number of old-style bungalow houses clustered together. All the homes looked worn-out, with their cobwebbed porches and weed-filled lawns. One towered above the rest due to an additional but lopsided second floor.

Russ Nolan’s dilapidated house sat in the tall home’s shadow. His residence looked worse than the rest of them combined. It had cracked siding and peeling paint, and the front yard seemed more dustbin than grass.

I couldn’t imagine Lauren setting foot in the house. Then again, her assistant had done the deed. Indira, though, might have gone in . . . if it meant a bargain to be had.

“Okay,” I told Marshmallow. “I can’t leave you in the car, so I’m taking you along. But you better behave.” No more speaking, I hoped. I crossed my fingers.

He peered up at me with wide baby blue eyes.

I carried Marshmallow over to the front porch and placed him down on the splintering wooden boards. The bell didn’t work, so I had to bang hard against the door.

A few pieces of brown paint flaked off after I knocked.

From inside, a deep voice boomed, “Hold on.”

A few seconds later, and I heard the dead bolt slide. The door opened partway, and a man with shoulder-length red locks and a stubble beard looked out at me. His hair appeared purposefully messy, and his biker jacket and ripped jeans screamed grunge.

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Nolan, I presume?”

He nodded but didn’t open the door any wider.

“I have a few questions about your dogs.”

He squinted his hazel eyes at me. At least, I thought that was their color. Under the shadow of his bushy eyebrows, I couldn’t quite tell. “You here about the ad? For a teacup Chi? Less than three pounds, even as an adult.”

I stammered. “Healthy Chihuahuas grow up to be four to six pounds.”

Russ closed the door an inch. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

That’s when Marshmallow streaked into the house. Startled, Russ lost hold of the front door, and it flew wide open.

Worried about the damage Marshmallow might do, I scooted inside. Marshmallow kept on going, so I chased him. While running, I noticed the house smelled horrible. It needed a good airing and a vat of vinegar, if not kerosene and flames.

The front door closed behind me, and I heard Russ say, “I ain’t prepared for company.”

Marshmallow dashed to the end of a shabby living room and scratched against an opaque sliding door that divided a hidden back area. His imaginary voice piped up. “There are dogs trapped inside.”

I managed to grab him and started to leave, but he slipped out of my arms. He pawed at the door again.

“Wait a minute,” Russ said as his lumbering steps caught up.

My curiosity won out, and I slid open the door. Both Marshmallow and I froze at the scene before us.

Thick blankets covered the entirety of the walls, making a soundproof space. A foul stench arose from the cramped area. The enclosed back room was filled with Chihuahuas. I lost count after twenty.

The little dogs started yipping like crazy, and Marshmallow responded by yowling at them. Bowls of food had been knocked over. Half-empty water dishes spilled murky trails. A few tennis balls lay scattered around, drool-soaked and defuzzed.

However, most of the stink came from dog waste piled all around the vinyl floor.

I turned to face Russ. “What kind of hellhole is this?”

He scratched at his stubble. “You caught me at a bad time.”

“I don’t believe you. This looks like it’s been going on for a while.”

“You’re trespassing,” Russ said, flexing his muscles. “Take your cat and go. Or I’ll make you leave.”

I held my hands up. “Fine, we’re going. I’ve seen enough.”

I took Marshmallow, and we retreated to the front porch. At the door, I told Russ, “You can bet I’m reporting this to animal control and the police.”

He curled his meaty hand into a fist. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I stared him in the eye. “I’d consider it my duty. You’re harming those puppies.”

He shook his fist at me.

I yelled in a voice as loud as Ma-speak. “Don’t you dare threaten me, you monster. You hurt those dogs, and I’ll hurt you!”

Russ slammed the door in my face.

A voice floated down to me from above my head and over to my left. “Cut the racket,” it said. I looked next door and saw the upstairs window slam shut from the two-story behemoth of a house.

After I got into the car, I placed the calls right away. I got the answering machine at animal control and left a message. But at the local police station, an efficient-sounding woman picked up.

“I’m concerned about the care of some dogs,” I told her.

“Yes, miss. Is this a neighborhood disturbance?”

“Litters of puppies are being mistreated. Here’s my cell in case you need it.” I gave her my number. Then I added my work line. “You can also reach me at my pet grooming business, Hollywoof.”

“Did you say litters of puppies?” She paused. “Is this regarding a pet store?”

“A breeder.” I provided Russ Nolan’s name and address.

“Okay, I have the info, but you’ll have to file an official complaint with the USDA.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I’d never reported animal abuse before. I didn’t even know the Department of Agriculture had to get involved.

“No, I’m afraid not.” She gave me the website.

I ended the call and pulled up the USDA site on my phone. Grumbling about red tape, I clicked on the section to file an animal welfare complaint. While I filled out the form, Marshmallow plopped himself on the dashboard.

After I finished typing, he meowed at me and said, “See, wasn’t my talking helpful?”

Not now. Why did I continue to dream up his voice? I took deep breaths. “This isn’t happening.”

He hissed at me and moved in close. “Face it. This is real, sister.” His nose came within inches of my own. “I just gave you proof back there, when I told you about those puppies.”

That fact hit me hard. He’d told me about the trapped dogs before I’d seen them with my own eyes. How could my mind make up something without first seeing it?

Maybe the talking was real. “But how?” I asked.

“I have a special talent,” Marshmallow said.

Wait a minute. His mouth hadn’t moved, but I’d heard his voice. If this was truly happening, did that mean . . . “Do you have cat ESP? Telepathy? Or maybe, tele-pethy?”

His whiskers twitched. “Thank heavens, no. Imagine suffering through human thoughts all day long.”

“But you can talk to me. Er, think to me.”

“Yes, the communication is one-way.” Marshmallow blinked at me. “All pets try to speak to their owners, but you don’t understand us.”

I snapped my fingers. “Right, like those cat translators . . .”

“Useless.” He purred. “You humans can’t figure it out, so I decided to take matters into my own paws.”

My fingers drummed the steering wheel. “You learned English?”

“Watched TV and picked up the language. So much simpler than cat talk. But I can’t use my mouth to make the right noises.”

“Thus the mind thing.” I licked my lips. “So, you can speak to humans?”

“Weren’t you listening? Only owners. A shame, because I wanted to thank Alice for rescuing me.” Marshmallow’s ears flattened. For a brief moment, I wondered about his personal history.

Then the sound of prolonged yipping interrupted my thoughts. I turned my attention back to Russ Nolan. I hoped it wouldn’t take too long for the authorities to rescue the dogs.

I looked at his house. In the strange haze of dusk, it seemed to change color. If Ma were here, she’d call it a bad omen. The house glowed white . . . according to Chinese superstition, the color of death.