"So, I may have a touch of cirrhosis and a clogged artery, but that's artificial..." Coco pointed her coffee stirrer accusingly at my cup. "Like the top half of a Kardashian. It's faux."

"Who doesn't love faux? Faux fur... faux finishes... Vietnamese Pho..."

"You can't distract me with bad puns, dude. Faux Pete's sake, it causes cancer."

"I appreash the concern, but I Googled the findings after your last outburst. Faux the record, that's a totally bogus claim from the '70s." I calmly laid out my case like Julianna Margulies on The Good Wife-my mother's fave show, which I am forced to watch with her every time I go home. "They fed lab rats twenty-five hundred packets of Sweet'N Low a day. Twenty-five hundred packets!" I shuddered as a pain shot through my back molars-a rat saccharine sympathy pain.

"Ouch," winced Coco. "Where was PETA then?"

"Right? And still the FDA or EPA, or whatevs agency, couldn't connect the dots from any kind of cancer in humans to my party in a packet. No warning label, no hard facts. So after bitch-slapping saccharine for like forty years, they finally threw up their hands, uttered a giant NEVER MIND heard 'round the world, and we all got the memo. Well, everyone except for you."

"All right, fine, then party on."

I threw a packet at her. "You're so busy all up in my biz, I didn't even get to tell you-I found Mr. WTF's dog!!!"

We discussed the hunt whenever Malcolm was not hovering nearby, and worked straight through lunch. At 2:15 I stood up for the first time, and went into the bathroom to check my email. Sure enough-GOLD.

Hi, Maggi!

Thanks for your kind words about my labor of love. I can't remember exactly where I took that picture, but it looks like it's either North Hollywood Dog Park or Laurel Canyon Dog Park (addresses on my website!). As I go to both quite often with my kids (all four!=)) I'll keep my eye out for your cousin's dog, and if I spot him or her, I'll drop you an email so you and Princess can surprise them both! What a neat idea!!

Sincerely, Sandi I texted Coco from my toilet seat perch.

Heard back from dog park ladi. You gonna come with me after work?

Only to make sure you don't get offed.

OK, it didn't even occur to me that if/WHEN I found the right park, I might actually see or find Mr. WTF! Could it be that easy? Doubtful. He said on the tape clues in locations and on websites. Lots of s's.

He was not about to make this ssssimple.

Chapter 9.

DAY 2-AFTERNOON.

I was so grateful that Coco was helping me (despite her reasons), that when she said we should divide and conquer, I agreed. She headed out to the park in North Hollywood, and after I walked ten blocks back to where my scooter, Lola, was hidden, I rode to Laurel Canyon.

Going to a dog park alone felt like I was cheating on Boo and Toupee. Believe me, if I could find a basket big enough for the scooter, they'd be with me always. Or a sidecar would be cool, but then they would have to wear goggles, or Doggles, and that would be totally humiliating for them.

Dog parks in L.A. are almost as hot a pickup spot as bars. Guys might as well just walk up and sniff your ass. There was no sign of Mr. WTF, or the dog with the polka-dot tongue. All in all, Laurel Canyon was pretty much like every other dog park I've been to. Same clumps of grass, dirt, gopher holes, stinky garbage cans with flies hovering over them, and one dog cuter than the next running around yipping and chasing dirt-encrusted tennis balls. Except one thing stood out. A GREEN BENCH. WITH A TRASH CAN BEHIND IT. It had to be the one from the video!!!! My palms started sweating. Either from the excitement of my discovery, or from anticipating what I knew I had to do next.

I am a shy person by nature. When I'm around people I'm comfortable with, I can be the life of the party. But put me in a room (or park) full of strangers and it's altogether a diff story-I'm pretty much mute. But I couldn't give in to insecurities now. I had no choice but to muster up my anti-shy courage and make a move.

"Excuse me," I said as I walked up to each stranger. "Have you seen this dog around here?" I showed them the pic from Sandi's gallery on my phone. Out of eleven people I got four nos, five don't really knows, and two yeses! Pretty awesome average. Except what came after each of the two yeses were just more nos. No, I don't know who the dog belongs to. No, there's not a certain time I always see it. No, no, do not know.

I sat down at a picnic table and started to text Coco about the green bench. And then something caught my eye. Was it there for me? Was it the clue I was supposed to find? For all I knew, even if I was at the right park, the clue could be hidden under a pile of dog shit.

I texted the pic to Coco. She hit me back immediately.

NO WAY!!!!!!! Look what I found here!!!

At least he covered more than one base! How considerate.

I looked up the site on my phone-it was just some apartment building in Venice. Could Mr. WTF live there? Did he leave another clue there? What else could it be? I texted Coco back, then her me. She didn't see anything obvious, either.

Have to go home. Blake said he'd actually go out to dinner tonight. You come with us. After we can go to Venice apt if need to.

No you guys should have romantic date alive.

Alone.

Lol ain't gonna happen. Come with. I'm paying. Xxxx Coco knew exactly how to get me. Going out to dinner would mean some food that was actually hot and not out of a bag, like my meals of Funyuns and Keebler's E.L. Fudge cookies. (The elf on the box is cute, and even sexier as the shape of the cookie! And so what, I have a thing for elves and leprechauns. Is that so wrong? Maybe if I were a few inches taller I wouldn't!) Perhaps some food that belonged to an actual food group would ignite a temporary superbrain that would be just what we needed to get closer to cracking the case.

Chapter 10.

DAY 2-NIGHT.

Why do couples feel entitled to parade around holding hands in public? It's like dangling pastries in front of a diabetic. I love sitting outside at any of the restaurants or cafes in our hood-until I have to watch the spectacle of happy lovers.

Coco chose Umami Burger just blocks from our apartments (she and Blake live about ten streets away from me on Micheltorena). And I couldn't have been more delighted about her restaurant choice as I sank my teeth into an Earth Burger (mushroom and edamame patty, white soy aioli, truffled ricotta, cipollini onions, lettuce, slow-roasted tomato-I mean, come on!). It felt like finding someone on Facebook that you went to elementary school with-"Sure, I totally remember you, Real Food. We used to be so close. I always liked you. I'm sorry that I haven't kept in touch. It's complicated." I'd have to leave out the reason-I'm flat broke-because who from your past really needs to know that?

"So Coco told me about this dude and the hunt," Blake said, as he sipped his beer.

"And... what do you think?" I asked.

"Sounds bogus to me. There's gotta be another reason someone would go to all that trouble. I definitely think it's nefarious."

I wiped my hands on my skirt, then excused myself and went to the bathroom. Not only to look up NEFARIOUS...

ne-far-i-ous (n-fr-s) Adjective Evil; wicked; sinful; immoral ...but I couldn't take another NAYSAYER. (BAM! Look that one up, dude!) When I returned to our table, I changed the subject. OK, probs wasn't the best choice of topics, but it def put the spotlight elsewhere.

"I saw Jason last night."

"No fucking way," Coco spouted, almost doing a spit take with her Grape Crush soda.

"Cool," Blake said. "How's he doing?"

"OK, I guess. I just saw him for like five minutes," I said, shaving off half the amount of time I really spent with Jason.

"Are you kidding me? Why???????" Coco asked so emphatically, I'm sure there were at least seven question marks following.

"He kept begging me, and I just felt that if I'm really gonna find Mr. WTF, and be with him, I have to let go of Jason first."

"Why don't you just cut him some slack?" Blake asked, popping sweet potato fries in his mouth one after the other, rapid-fire. He continued talking with his mouth full. "It's not like you were married or anything. You're both young, you're supposed to be fucking around. And he's apologized, right?"

"Oh yeah. That he's definitely done. You're not gonna believe this..."

I pulled my laptop out of my backpack, flipped it open, and showed Coco and Blake IFckedUp.com.

They both looked through it, clicking away.

"Wow. That's some hard-core apology," Blake said.

"It's pretty fucking brill," I said. "I still can't believe it. No one's ever done anything that amazing for me."

"Wait, check out this post." Coco couldn't help but be drawn in as she read.

"'Dear 5C (now I know it's Lizzie), while I could blame it on the fire alarm-because who wasn't totally freaked out at 5:07 a.m.?-I have no excuse for not even grabbing a pillow or at least a (long) sock to throw over my junk. I just panicked, ran into the hallway, tripped over Mrs. Renfrew's Chihuahua, and then landed bottoms up on you. To your credit you looked away, even as certain parts of me accidentally got entangled in your bathrobe (you have to admit it has a lot of pockets for a robe). Anyways, I'm really sorry and would like make it up to you with dinner or at least a drink. I promise to cover up. Your neighbor, Luke.' That's crazy!!" Coco squealed.

Blake clicked around some more. "Mags, did you read the ABOUT section?"

"No, what's it say?"

He read aloud. "'I started this site because, well, I fcked up. I didn't mean to cheat, I just got too drunk. When I woke up the next morning, I didn't even know where I was. Mags, I've apologized every way I know how that you'd give a shit about. None have worked. So how about this-IN PUBLIC. And I want you to see how many other people fck up all the time and are asking others to forgive them. You might just see that what I did wasn't so bad after all. I'm starting an apology revolution in your name, Mags. Beats the fck out of flowers. Jason.'"

"What?!?! He didn't even show me that!" I was blown away. "Acch... what do I do with that? How can I not forgive him now?"

Before Coco and Blake could reply, a really cute guy with angular features walked up to the long line of people waiting for tables at the host's podium.

Coco called out, "Mark!"

"Oh, hey Coco."

"What are you doing so far from Koreatown?"

"I had a meeting at the gallery."

"Oh, that's right," Coco replied, wiping her mouth on her napkin. "Did Madelyn OK the lighting plan?"

"Yep, all good."

"I want you to meet my friend Mags, and this is Blake."

"Her husband," Blake added as he extended his hand to shake Mark's.

"Nice to meet you guys. Well, the line's too long and I have to get back, so I'm outta here. Later." Mark headed east on Sunset.

"So that's the guy you've been hanging out with," Blake stated more than asked.

"Yeah. And I've been thinking about hooking Mags up with him." She turned to me. "So, do you think he's cute?"

"Sure, whatevs."

"Then you'll come with me to his show at the gallery on Monday night. No more Jason. And no more Mr. Could Possibly Be a Seventy-Five-Year-Old Granny."

"Well, either I go to Jason right now and tell him I forgive him and take him back, or go to the Villa Seaside Apartments. Alone..." I looked at my phone "...at 10:00 at night. Don't worry, if I get killed at least I'll serve as a cautionary tale and hopefully save a life or two."

"You're a piece of work," Coco sniped. "Besides, you haven't even checked out the website yet. Sleuthy, NOT! Maybe the clues are there, not at the building, and you can stay alive for one more night." She pushed my laptop back to me and pulled out her phone, holding it so she and Blake could look. We all went to: www.VillaSeasideApartments.com "OK, what do we know from this?" Coco asked. "Let's make a list."

"I will," I excitedly volunteered. I might have even raised my hand.

What We Know from the Site By Mags, Coco, and Blake 1). It's an apartment, "Located on the famous Venice boardwalk, just blocks away from the Venice Canals, Santa Monica Pier, Third Street Promenade, and countless other shops and restaurants."

2). It's brick and is four stories high. (Note to self: It actually sort of looks like my apartment! Weird. Maybe our buildings will fall in love?!) 3). It's pet friendly-could be important if the dog with the polka-dot tongue lives there.

4). They've got no vacancies.

5). They put Neighborhood "HANG OUT" as two words instead of hangout. Or is it two words? Will have to put that on another list-Things to Check to See if Spelled Properly. Coco and Blake want it on record that they don't feel this belongs on our list.

6). We don't know shit.

"Wait." Blake perked up. "What stands out on the site? It's pretty cheesy, especially, like, the animated wagging dog..."

"Very Sandi Stern," I added. "I'm sure she'd love to have that on DogParksLA!"

"But then there's this cool mention about beatniks. And did you notice Jack Kerouac is the only thing that's a different color in that part?"

"Wasn't he one of those writers in that movie with Harry Potter?" I asked.

Coco gave me an exasperated look. "What are you even talking about?"

"That beatnik movie. The guy who played Harry Potter was in it, only in this movie he was totally naked and waaaaay hairy. HAIRY Potter."

Coco laughed, but Blake kept us on track. "So let's look up Jack Kerouac and see what we find."

We set out on our own searches and spouted what we came across: "Wrote generation-defining novel On the Road," "Pioneer of the beatniks..."

"OK, this is way cool." Coco read: "'Before writing On the Road, Kerouac cut sheets of paper into long strips, wide enough for a typewriter, and taped them together into a 120-foot long roll. This allowed him to type continuously without the interruption of reloading paper.'"

"Fuck, that's dedication," Blake mumbled.

"Hold on!" I shouted excitedly. "We saw Jack Kerouac was in bold, but we didn't bother clicking on it. Try it!"