Mallowtown is the most colorful of cities, but beneath the green, yellow and blue lies a dark underbelly. It’s called the Pink, and it’s the worst of the worst. Pink mallows, filled with the same marshmallow goodness as the rest of us, and are the most devious creatures around. You can’t trust anyone in the Pink.
How do I know? I’m yellow. My name is Philippa Marlowmellow. I own Mallowtown Investigations. I am a private chick. The only one who dares work in the Pink. I solved the most notorious case in Mallowtown history. Let me tell you what happened.
It was late. All businesses in Mallowtown-proper had closed for the evening, but in the Pink, they were just getting started. I was in my office finishing paperwork on an adultery case, when I heard my door open. I slowly opened my desk drawer, pulled out my gun, and placed it in my lap.
A female voice called, “Ms. Marlowmellow?”
I hid the gun under my wing and waddled into the waiting area. “May I help you?”
There stood a pink bunny dressed in a plain pink dress with a pink apron. Her nose and ears were twitching. “Please, you must find my daughter.” Little sugar tears glistened as they ran down her face.
“Please. Come into my office.” I motioned for her to sit. “What happened?”
“My daughter…well, we had a fight.” The tears flowed like syrup. “Now she’s gone.” The mother wailed.
I did my best to console her and get the rest of the story. Her daughter wanted to be a dancer, and her mother had told her pink bunnies were not dancers, they decorated the top of cupcakes. It was a family tradition. She cried until I finally agreed to take her case, against my better judgment. My mallow senses were tingling.
“Do you have a picture?”
Her mother reached into her apron pocket, took out the picture and handed it to me. The girl was a pretty bunny, neon pink with just enough shading to look delectable. She would have been lovely on top of a cupcake. Her name was Jenny.
“I’ll contact you as soon as I know something,” I said.
Momma Bunny nodded and dabbed her eyes with her apron. She gave me one last look of desperation and walked out the door.
I went back to my office and studied the picture. It seemed normal enough. Jenny stood outside a white house, smiling. She looked happy, but something was off about her smile. Was she being a normal teenage girl? Was she pouting because she didn’t get something she wanted? Was she being abused by her parents? What was her story? I didn’t have much to go on.
I scanned the picture and sent it to some informants to see if they knew anything. I couldn’t do anything else until morning. I closed up the office. Tomorrow would be day one of pounding the pavement.