The Case of the Missing Prada Mini | Teen Ink

The Case of the Missing Prada Mini

January 16, 2009
By Anonymous

“Oh my God! No way!” Tiffany shrieked into the receiver. “They finally opened it? I was beginning to think they were just faking the whole thing!”

“No, it’s open, and I’m hearing that it’s amazing! We have to go!” said her friend, Melanie, from the other end of the line.

“Totally. How about four o’clock today?”

“Sounds good to me. See you then. Kisses.”


She hung up the receiver, and flopped down on the bed. She twirled her curled blonde hair. Yes! That new Prada store has finally opened! I desperately need a new Prada Mini. Mine’s from last season’s catalogue…

“Come on Tiff, Tyler?” asked Melanie with a disgusted tone as she combed through her straight brown hair with her fingers.
The girls were at the mall, heading towards the new Prada store.

“Yeah, why not? He’s adorable, sweet, and super nice,” replied Tiffany as if it were obvious.

“But he’s so immature and—oh my god,” she stopped suddenly.

Tiffany stared at her with a confused look, and traced her friend’s eyes to the origin of her shock. There was a huge commotion at the Prada store. Police officers and security guards were surrounding the store. That meant that Tiffany’s police uncle was there. He was really expressive, and definitely did not want to be seen in public with.

“No way. This is not happening,” Tiffany said to Melanie, but she made no eye contact. She stared blankly at the situation.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Melanie said sympathetically.

“No it’s okay. I won’t let him get in the way of my new Prada Mini,” replied Tiffany bravely. She took a step forward, but instantly regretted it. Her uncle seemed to have built-in radar because he looked directly at her when she took the step.

“Oh, Tiffany, come over here, and give your Uncle Dave a hug,” he called to her. The other police men chuckled, and had amused faces. The crowd turned their heads to stare at her.

She pretended to look away, but it was useless because he began walking towards her.

At that exact moment, there was a loud bang that seemed to come from within the store. It sounded like something fell. All the police men, including Tiffany’s Uncle Dave raced into the store.

“Saved by the bang, yes!” said Tiffany enthusiastically. She began to turn away, but was stopped by a hand.

“Ma’am we’re going to have to ask you to remain on the premises,” said a gruff-looking-body-guard-like man. He had his hands on Tiffany and Melanie, and was gently urging them closer to the Prada store. Eventually, they became part of the crowd, and peeked into the store. The place looked like a tornado hit—the handbags were scattered everywhere, pairs of the same shoes were impossible to find, and many of the racks had been knocked over. On the floor by the fallen racks was a man who was obviously in pain. He was holding his leg and wincing. The police had surrounded him, and a doctor had showed.

“He’s broken his leg and a few ribs. We need to transport him immediately,” said the doctor with a stern voice.

“Hold on, we need some answers first,” argued the chief police.

“I don’t know how much longer he can keep conscious, so make it fast,” replied the doctor.

“Where is the pearl?” the chief asked the man.

“So…so proud of Minnie…proud of Minnie.” he said with a thick British accent. Then he went unconscious.

“Men, he’s out cold. Search the store. If you find anything report back to me. Guards, nobody in, nobody out, got it?” the chief ordered. “And call the agency; I want to know who this Minnie is.”
The doctor called in his team, and they moved the man onto a stretcher. He was out of the mall, and into a waiting ambulance.

When the store was searched, and nothing was found, the police walked around with frustrated strides. Tiffany and Melanie went up to Dave.

“What happened?” asked Melanie.

“An old lady reported a crime that she claimed to have witnessed by the 5th Avenue jewelry store. Turns out a precious pearl had been purloined. We suspected this man because he was running from the store, so we chased him here. Looks like he got himself in a knot, and tripped over a rack. Asked him about the pearl, but he just said something about Winnie. And that brings us here, without a sing clue,” explained Tiffany’s uncle.

“Minnie,” corrected Tiffany.

“Uh, yeah, Minnie.” he said as he checked his notes. He composed himself and spoke again. “See Tiff, your Uncle Dave’s pretty cool. You pay close attention, and when you grow up you could be a big shot police officer like me one day.”

The girls looked at each other, and had a laughing fit.

“What’s so funny? Oh, I see, your uncle’s still got the humor going on to. You know that’s why your aunt married me. Where was it that we met again? Oh yeah, it was in New York City and I was just about to—”
“Was there anything in his pockets?” interrupted Tiffany.
“Yeah, some keys, a cigarette, and a Coach wallet without any ID in it.”
“Okay, um, what was it that he said again?” asked Tiffany.

“Oh, let me check,” he flipped through his notes until he found it. “He said ‘So…so proud of Minnie.’, and then he collapsed.”

“Proud of Minnie…hmmm…has anyone found out anything about this Minnie yet?” Melanie asked.

“Uh, not yet. No one’s radioed me yet,” he said while subconsciously brushing his hand on his walkie-talkie.

“Maybe he was delusional.” suggested Melanie.

“Possibly.” answered Uncle Dave.

Tiffany was skeptical. I don’t know. He sounded pretty sober. Whatever it is, I’ll find out. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is taking that bag from me.

“Aw, we didn’t get to see the Prada store. Well, technically we saw it, but we didn’t get to shop in it,” said Melanie.
The police and security guards couldn’t find anything, so the girls had finally been released, and returned to Melanie’s house. They were at Melanie’s house, preparing for their sleepover. Melanie was laying upside down on her bed reading a magazine while Tiffany sat on a bean bag chair, staring out the window.

“Hmmm…yeah,” replied Tiffany absentmindedly.

Something about the case was weird. She felt it. She felt that something was wrong—that they were going about things the wrong way. The feeling didn’t leave her—not during dinner, not during the movie, and most definitely not during her sleep. She dreamt that she was back at the Prada store searching for something. She didn’t know what she was searching for, but she continued aimlessly looking. She jolted up, and awoke all sweaty in her sleeping bag.

“Please, no, it’s too ugly…too ugly,” said Melanie in her sleep. “I won’t…no…”

Tiffany giggled. Melanie was speaking with a British accent. She must’ve been dreaming that she was Stella McCartney again. Boy, what a dreamer that girl is.

Tiffany sighed, and laid back down onto her sleeping bag. She began counting sheep, but she reached one hundred sheep before her eyelids even began to feel heavy. Her mind began to drift off, but she was still wide awake. The feeling was still there. In fact, it was even more prominent now. The answer was at the tip of her tongue—she just couldn’t get there. Eventually, she began to doze off until Melanie screamed.
“No, that’s the ugly Prada Mini!” she said with the same British accent.
“Oh my god!” whispered Tiffany.
She sat up again, and smiled triumphantly. She laid back down, and fell asleep almost immediately. She dreamt about her soon-to-be Prada Mini, and how cute she would look holding it.

The next day, Tiffany told Melanie that she had solved the case, but hadn’t told her how. She said that she would explain everything at the mall. Tiffany called her uncle, and told him to meet her at the Prada store with the chief and a few men because she had a breakthrough, and possibly solved the case.

“And here is the pearl,” said Tiffany.

“Wait, but how did you know where it was?” questioned Melanie.

“Actually, you helped me,” answered Tiffany.

Melanie shot her a confused look.

“Last night, you were talking in your sleep, and—”

“What? Not again!” interrupted Melanie. Everyone chuckled slightly, but looked at Tiffany to urge her to continue.

“Anyways, you were saying that a Prada Mini was ugly,” Tiffany continued.

Everybody gave her a confused look.

“So?” asked one of the police men. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Well, she was speaking with a British accent, and that got me thinking. That man had said ‘Proud of Minnie’, but he had a very thick British accent. I deduced that he had actually said ‘Prada Mini’,” she explained. “So I looked in this one, and here it is.”

“Great job, kiddo. I always knew you had it in you. You’re just like—” began Tiffany’s Uncle Dave.

“Hold up, I’m no detective, but that still doesn’t explain how you knew exactly which one to look in. There’s probably over a hundred in this store, but you the right one,” the chief interrupted.

“Oh, that’s easy, I just chose the cutest one,” said Tiffany.

“Yeah, that one is pretty cute,” nodded Melanie.

“And what does cuteness have to do with anything?” asked another police man.

“Well, he had a British accent, and I had a hunch that he was from London. London has the cutest totes, so I figured that he has to have some style. And he also carries Coach, so that too adds to the style factor. And if he has style, he would’ve chosen this one. Duh!” she explained.

She’d said it like she was talking to a five-year-old.

The chief just rolled his eyes, and sighed. Kids these days, appearance before utilitarianism.

An hour later, it was established that the pearl was the correct one and was returned to the store. All of the police went back to work, but Tiffany’s Uncle Dave stayed behind.

“I’m really proud of you, honey. Tiff, you did a great job. So you’re not like me, but you could be a great detective someday. I thought I’d get you something,” he said handing her a box.

She stared at him, and then began unwrapping the small box. The box was black was made of black felt. It looked like an oversized engagement ring holder. She pinched the cover with her index finger and her thumb. She pulled it open, and inside was the cutest Prada Mini. It was the same one the pearl had been stored in.

“But how did you know?” she asked, with a confused face.

“I figured yesterday you didn’t come to see the crime, you came for an ulterior motive. Plus, Melanie told me you were looking for another Prada Mini, so I got for you. You deserve anyways,” he replied smiling.

She reached up and hugged him. These two days were great. I’ll remember them forever. I’ll remember them as the day I solved a crime, and how in the beginning all I was thinking of was getting a new Prada Mini…

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