CHAPTER

seventeen

THE OWNER OF the co-washed puppy came back, her hair looking even more like a lion’s mane than before, and thanked me for a job well done. After that, we had several regular shampoo appointments.

When we finished the last one, I noticed Alice rolling up her sleeves. The material of her shirt had gotten soaked. Touching the damp fabric, I asked, “What type of fabric is this?”

“Silk blend.”

I covered my mouth with my hand. “You can’t wear stuff like that while grooming pets.”

She shrugged. “This is the kind of clothes I usually wear to work.”

I made her sit in the front room near the cash register, even though the space looked crammed with two people sitting behind the counter. The time seemed to drag by as we experienced an odd lull in business.

Nicola’s glazed eyes stared without emotion at the Benji movie playing in a loop in the waiting area.

I clapped my hands to get her attention. “Good news, Nicola. Feel free to take the rest of the day off.” Half the day had passed by already. How many more jobs would we get that required three people on the premises? As it turned out, none.

About fifteen minutes before closing, I urged my sister to go home. Most people wouldn’t take their pet in for a shampoo without the adequate time to get it finished, and I could handle simple tasks like nail trimming without assistance. Besides, I’d managed to run the shop on my own before.

I waved goodbye to Alice and sat in the deep silence.

A paw tapped my ankle and brought me out of my reverie. “Now spill about the case,” Marshmallow said. “Because curiosity never killed this cat.”

He’d already heard about the fondue night, so I summarized everything else that had happened so far. First, I talked about the school visit with a standoffish Principal Lewis. Then I described Helen’s classroom with its school-themed décor and my interesting chat with the janitor. I ended with a description of the parking lot scene, where I repeated Jessie’s vanity license plate phrase, and Alice’s reminder that her fellow teacher had enjoyed her reign as prom queen.

Marshmallow’s whiskers twitched. “Priceless. You have to get a copy of that photo.”

I pulled out my phone. “Will I even be able to find it?”

“Everything’s on the Web, sweetheart.” He flicked his tail. “Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do right now.”

I took the bait. After several searches using various combinations of her name, the town she’d grown up in, and “prom queen,” I got a list of results. Picking one at random, I tapped the link to an archived yearbook, while Marshmallow jumped on the counter and peered over my shoulder.

A version of a younger Jessie showed up, in a black taffeta dress with a shiny bodice.

“There’s got to be, like, twenty pounds of sequins on the top of that gown,” Marshmallow said. He started chuckling and almost rolled off the counter.

I stopped his freefall by blocking it with my outstretched arm.

“Let’s see another picture.”

I went back to the search results and scrolled down.

“Hold on.” Marshmallow extended a claw at the phone. “What’s that blog entry?”

I read the headline: “‘Scandal at local high school.’”

We read the post together, which detailed how Jessie had been pitted against an auburn beauty for the prom queen title. Her rival had been president of the class that year and captain of the cheerleading team. Despite receiving more votes, the other girl ended up going home right before getting crowned. Jessie had graciously taken over queen duties for the night.

Marshmallow and I looked at each other. “What do you think happened?” I asked.

He didn’t have time to answer before the front door swung open. A customer so late in the day? I checked on who had entered. It was someone who might be able to answer my nagging questions.

Detective Brown wore his typical sport coat ensemble when he marched into Hollywoof with a straight back. His squared shoulders relaxed as he caught sight of a dozing Nimbus, though. A small blip of a smile crossed his face and then vanished when he caught me looking.

The detective turned his attention to me. “Mimi, I have an update for you.”

My fingers twitched. When had the man ever brought me good news?

“An initial examination tested remnants of the ginger chews, and they turned out harmless. I left a message with your sister saying that she can go back to work—for the time being.”

I almost sank down in the middle of the floor with relief, right on top of one of the golden stars that lined Hollywoof’s Bark of Fame. Instead, I leaned against the front desk for support. “Thank goodness. Was there anything odd found during the autopsy?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sure sign he didn’t want to tell me the exact details.

Something strange had been discovered about Helen then. Was there a toxic substance in her system? Or perhaps she had been pregnant at the time of her death. “Was it hCG?”

He gave me a blank look.

“Human chorionic gonadotropin. It’s a chemical produced during pregnancy.”

Detective Brown choked. “No, they didn’t find any hCG.”

“Huh.” I peppered him with questions. “Is the case closed? Did Helen die of natural causes, then?”

“No and no. Everyone at that school is still on my suspects list. Plus, your sister had more motive than the rest since Alice got the pink slip threat last year instead of Helen Reed. There must have been ill will.” His lips clamped shut, and he moved closer to the sleeping Nimbus. He’d talked too much but caught himself.

I followed the detective as he crouched down and examined the kitten. “How is she doing?”

“Nimbus is great.” At the sound of her name, the kitty’s eyes popped open. She focused on the man above her—and actually cooed.

“I didn’t know cats could make that sound,” Detective Brown said, his eyes lighting up.

“Well, she must like you.”

From his spot, Marshmallow said, “For the life of me, I can’t understand why.”

Nimbus nudged the detective’s leg. I swear I could hear a soft whisper from her: “Brown.”

She’d memorized the detective’s name. He must have treated her well and made quite an impression on her.

Detective Brown bent down and stroked the kitten’s back. I suppose, who better than a cop to protect Nimbus? I chose my next words very carefully. “There might be someone dangerous at Roosevelt Elementary, Detective.”

“Hmm. What’s that?” He seemed to be lost in petting Nimbus.

“I saw a stranger in a weird jacket loitering near the campus.”

Detective Brown stopped stroking the cat, straightened back up, and turned businesslike. I could almost see the sinister image I’d planted in his head.

A stalker in a coat near an elementary school? Any cop worth his salt would take that threat seriously. The stranger could harm the kids—or only as I knew, two beloved cats.

“I’ll get somebody to check out the situation,” Detective Brown said.

With any luck, the police would snatch the mad scientist—and perhaps Helen’s murderer as well. After all, Nimbus had spotted the man nearby on the day of the crime.