Chapter One

I sat in the hairdresser’s chair while she held a mirror behind my head and asked if I liked the style. My hair was two inches shorter with three shades of caramel highlights. I did like it but more importantly, seeing the hairdresser’s scissors were only inches from my jugular vein and her expression mildly threatening, saying no wasn’t an option. It was a good job and I approved of the cut and color but because I was so disconcerted by her demeanor, I would have told her I liked it even if she’d given me a mullet with neon balayage.

“I love it,” I said, giving my head a good shake.

“I wish you’d let me take you back to blond,” she said with a sigh. “You looked so cute in the photos you showed me.”

“Too much maintenance,” I replied, although not completely decisively. Lily was rising from the chair next to me, shaking out her recently tamed mane of natural blond curls. With the light streaming through the salon’s plate glass windows, she looked faintly angelic. Then I glanced again at her t-shirt printed with a single word: No . I knew exactly how she felt.

I, Lexi Graves, private investigator, was getting a lot of experience at saying no.

Only this morning, I’d said no to three cases that came in. One involved diving for treasure off the coast and I was not equipped for that. Plus, the prospective client didn’t have any evidence there was a treasure beyond a really enthusiastic hunch and a stack of maps. Then I’d said no to my mother’s suggestion that I take up basket weaving with her. I had no need for any baskets and, if I did, I knew where the mall was. I didn’t need to make my own stuff. Finally, I’d said no to the blond my hairdresser so badly wanted to reintroduce to my head. When it came to saying no, I was nailing it.

“Do you love it?” asked Lily, circling a finger in the air around my hair.

“Yes,” I said. Damn! There went my “Say no” streak.

We paid, declined to buy the overpriced salon products, and headed out the doors, away from the overly bright fluorescent lights, thumping dance music, and black-clad stylists. Lily hooked her arm into mine. “I feel like a new woman,” she said. “Or, at least, one that doesn’t have any apple puree in her hair.”

“The joys of motherhood.”

“You’ll know how much of a joy it is soon,” she said, taking a pointed look at my rounded belly.

“That’s just my breakfast,” I said. “Nothing else is happening down there.”

“I’ll be the first to know, right?”

“I feel like my husband should be first to know.”

“Why? What does he have to do with it?” she asked indignantly.

“He’s crucial to the process. If it happens…”

“When,” cut in Lily.

“If, and when I find myself pregnant, I’ll tell Solomon first and you second, okay? But for now, no dice. Let’s hang out here,” I said, pointing to the café three lots away from the hair salon. Several bistro tables had been set up behind a cordon on the sidewalk, each panel punctuated with a large faux palm in a green stone vase. The nearest table had a perfect view of the salon.

We plunked into the seats and picked up the menus. I took turns glancing at the menu and then at the salon.

“I love it when you get a job with perks. I smell glorious,” said Lily, taking a whiff of the ends of her hair. “Can you investigate a manicurist, a spa, and maybe somewhere hot for a vacation?”

I held back a laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

My client had rushed into the Solomon Detective Agency only a few days before, almost in tears, certain that someone on her staff was stealing. Her data was clear. Expensive products were going missing and the takings didn’t tally with the appointments. Sometimes the till had been out by several hundred dollars. The problem was, she couldn’t imagine anyone on her staff stealing from her. Yet someone had to be.

None of the guys on our staff would blend into the hair salon - they all had short hair, curated from several decades of law enforcement and adjacent careers, with the exception of our resident tech geek, Lucas. His blond hair was a messy surfer style, a look I’d come to realize was as much by design as it was owing to a lack of brushing. So, I’d taken the case, knowing my feminine looks ensured I could enter where they couldn’t. Lily came along for an extra set of eyes, and a treat, since the salon owner had thrown in two cuts with all the extras as a way to get us in the door to observe her employees. Unfortunately, that had thrown a moral problem my way. Both Lily’s and my hair stylist had done such terrific jobs, I didn’t want either of them to be guilty. I wanted to keep going back.

That left six other stylists, the two reception desk ladies, four assistants who undertook the hair washing, sweeping, and general gophering, plus, a cleaning lady who came in after hours. Yet my client said none of them had raised any red flags during their employment. So where were her missing money and products?

“Did you get any feeling while we were in there?” asked Lily as she gazed at the menu.

“A numb left foot.”

“And that led you to think…” Lily prompted.

“That I should do more exercise,” I said. “And maybe buy a new pair of shoes.”

Lily’s face fell. “I hoped it was intuition and your numb foot would lead you to a loose floorboard where the cash and contraband shampoo would be stashed.”

“It would have to be a very large floorboard to store two thousand bucks worth of shampoo, conditioner, hairspray and the rest. Plus, the floor is tile,” I added. I’d spent considerable time looking around the salon after hours, trying to imagine where someone might have squirreled away the contraband. Yet there seemed to be no hiding spots. The walls held mirrors with sliding shelves that contained the stylists’ gear. There was a tiny cloakroom with open square shelving for purses and bags. And a small restroom was available for clients’ use.

My client had mentioned a small break room and separate restroom for the staff but they didn’t conceal any hidey-holes either. The small, square room had little more than a unit of cabinets on one side, making a kitchen with a microwave and sink, while the other side seemed to be open lockers for hanging coats and stashing bags. As a client, I’d barely gotten more than a glimpse of the break room when the door had been left ajar. There was no way customers were getting in there.

We ordered slices of cake and overpriced fresh juice blends, keeping our gaze on the salon as we waited.

“I get stealing the money. Money can be spent anywhere,” said Lily, after the waitress told us she’d be back in a couple minutes. “But I don’t get the product thefts.”

“Whoever it is must be selling them,” I said, “but I’ve checked the online auction sites as well as the preloved apps and I can’t find any of the products there. They could be selling them by word of mouth or at a market or even shipping them out of state. Did you know the smallest bottle of shampoo is thirty bucks alone?”

“Worth it. Smell my hair,” said Lily.

“I won’t. I’m too busy smelling my own.” I inhaled the gentle floral notes. I smelled delicious.

As we waited, two clients left the salon, and three more entered.

“Do we have to watch them for the rest of the day?” asked Lily. “If so, we’re going to need more cake.”

“Watching is all I have left. I’ve conducted background checks on all the employees and nothing stands out. They’ve all worked there over a year. None of them have had a sudden influx of unexplainable income or made any suspiciously large purchases or begun leading extravagant lifestyles. All I can do is watch.”

“You sound like a perv.”

“Or a PI.”

“I’m glad we ordered vegetables,” said Lily. “I feel healthier already.”

“It’s carrot cake,” I said, craning my head to see another waitress approach ours. Snatches of their conversation drifted towards me and I frowned.

“What’s the difference?” asked Lily, distracting me.

“Several cups of sugar and a half inch of frosting,” I said, smiling at the generous portion of cake when the waitress quickly returned and set down our plates and tall glasses.

“Real, grated carrot,” said Lily, pointing to the menu. “Grown in a field. In dirt!”

“Where else are you supposed to grow a carrot?” I wondered.

Lily shrugged. “I own a bar. I’m not a farmer. It’s a carrot. Vegetables are good for us, and with these fruit juices, we’re nailing healthy. Mine has kale in it. That’s two vegetables in one healthy snack.”

“Would you feed this to Poppy?” I asked, breaking off a chunk of cake as soon as the waitress departed.

“I wouldn’t need to. Her face would be in it before I could even offer her a tiny, little fork.”

While we ate our treats, no one else entered the salon. Gradually, it emptied out and my client appeared, turning the sign on the front door to “Closed.”

“The salon’s closing,” I said.

We waited for the employees to filter out, singly or in pairs, saying their goodbyes as they headed off to their lives outside work. I knew what they all did from book clubs to clubbing, and exactly what times. If I weren’t me, I’d find my knowledge of strangers creepy. Thankfully, they would never know.

“What happens now? Why aren’t their bags being searched?”

“The owner doesn’t want anyone to feel accused if there’s possibly another reason to explain the thefts. She feels it will damage the trust in the salon.” I paused as the salon become dark, and Marie, my client, stepped out and turned the key in the locks. She gave the door a push, confirming her locks were working, then headed to her car.

“It’s hard to keep employees if they think you think they’re a thief,” said Lily. “But we can’t sit here all night. I have to get to work. What’re you going to do?”

“Sit here all night.” I sighed as I forked another piece of carrot cake into my mouth. Surveillance wasn’t at the top of my list of enjoyable ways to spend my evenings but an irregular job sometimes called for irregular hours. I’d undertaken plenty of hours of observation and I had a system in place. Make sure I used the restroom promptly before ensconcing myself in my car, ensure the camera was fully charged and there was space on the memory card, and, most importantly, make sure I had plenty of snacks. Lately, I’d added playing an audiobook to my roster; anything to keep the boredom at bay while I surveyed my target.

“Make sure you check in with me. I want to know if anything happens,” said Lily, “If it’s my stylist, I’ll be devastated. My curls have never looked better.” She pulled one and it corkscrewed back into place.

“I feel the same about mine. She’s a genius with scissors.”

Lily insisted on paying for the cake since I’d scored her the free hair appointment; then she walked me to my car before leaving for her shift at the bar she owned. I hopped in and drove the whole block down the street, parking in one of the newly empty spaces opposite the salon.

By the time Solomon rang a half hour later, I was already tired of staring through the empty windows.

“What’s the score?” he asked.

“Nil to me,” I said. “I have no idea who could be committing these thefts.”

“Someone will turn up. Do you want company?”

“No, I’m good. Nothing’s happening. I’ll stay until midnight and if still nothing happens, I’ll come home. I’m thinking our next step should be a couple of discreet cameras in the salon.”

“Good plan. If I’m not home when you get there, I’m still out on the mall job with Delgardo. We’re working out the weak spots in their night security. Don’t wait up.”

We disconnected and I shuffled in the seat, trying to get comfortable. An hour later, and a couple of chapters into a funny audiobook, I noticed movement. A man in jeans and a t-shirt, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, dawdled to a stop. I reached for my camera as the man covered his eyes and leaned in to peer through the windows. I snapped a couple of shots, my shoulders dropping as the man turned and continued walking.

A tap on the passenger door made me jump. On the sidewalk, Maddox grinned and signaled to unlock the door. I leaned over and popped the handle before he hopped in.

“On a job?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Yes, and nothing.”

“Fill me in.”

I gave him the lowdown, indicating the salon. “There’s only one entrance,” I said, “So if someone’s coming in after hours, it’s through there.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure. I walked around the building yesterday. There’s a rear door but the city is making repairs to the drains and it’s currently inaccessible.”

“Ooh, a mystery. Can’t wait to hear how this one goes down. I’m hoping it’ll involve a helicopter, a ring of fire, and maybe a giraffe.”

I could only gape at his suggestions. Maddox shrugged. “It doesn’t seem impossible for you,” he said with a shrug.

“I’m not sure where you think I’d get a giraffe from.”

“I’m not sure why you seem to think getting a helicopter is a more viable option. You concern me sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Only when I’m awake. Sleep is bliss.” Maddox considered that, then added, “Until you turn up anyway.”

“Stop dreaming about me.”

“They’re more like nightmares.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

Maddox reached for his phone. “I need to look up that word.”

“You’re distracting me.” I returned my attention to the salon. Nothing was happening so in reality, he was distracting me from a whole load of zilch. “Why are you here anyway?” I asked.

“I was going to grab something to eat on my way home and I saw you and thought you’d be more fun than fried chicken.”

“Thanks. I’ll print that on my business cards.”

“You should. It’ll drumstick up some customer. Ha ha.”

“Your chicken jokes need work.”

“It’s true. I can’t clucking argue with that.”

“Do you have any interesting cases?” I asked, desperately hopeful. Anything to stop the puns.

“One that is a longstanding headache. I might need to go to Europe soon to pursue a lead on a jewel heist. Several, in fact.”

“So sorry to hear that. How awful for you. Europe. Sexy jewel heists. All on the FBI’s dime.” I shook my head in mock sadness, and made a mental note to ask Solomon if he ever planned to take the agency international. A Paris office would be terrific. Maybe Milan.

Maddox merely grinned. “There’s no way the MPD would have ever sent me to Europe, and the case is way beyond their purview, so I’m very happy with the way my career is going. Unfortunately, catching my thief is the headache part. She’s slipperier than an eel.”

“She?”

“Plenty of female criminals around,” he said. “You constantly surprise me by not being one. Anyway, I’ve lost her for now but she’ll pop up again. Maybe when…”

“Hold on,” I said, catching movement in the salon. Not by the doors where I expected, but from the ceiling. Someone was entering the salon from a direction I’d never considered.

I pointed and Maddox leaned in. “Would you look at that,” I said, as we watched the figure wriggle, dangle in the air, then drop to a crouch on the floor. “Yours might be in the wind but I think we can catch this thief.”