Page 1 of Gem Warfare

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 therewasa 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, andwhenI 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 Agencyonly 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 andcontraband shampoo would be stashed.”

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