Page 2 of Gem Warfare

“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 moreentered.

“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 thesign 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.”

---