Deadly Dye and a Soy Chai: a Danger Cove Hair Salon Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 5) by Traci Andrighetti, Elizabeth Ashby Page B
Authors: Traci Andrighetti, Elizabeth Ashby
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its cover," I muttered as I began flipping through the pages of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone .
I must have gone through at least a hundred books when the grandfather clock struck nine and I practically jumped from my skin. I hadn't found anything—not a letter, a picture, or even a note scribbled in a margin. I was starting to think that this whole escapade had been futile, but I resolved to finish going through the books before I gave up.
I reached for Mother Goose Tales just as Puss in Boots sashayed down the stairs.
"That bedroom is like a hospital room," Gia began, stopping to lean over the railing, "and the bathroom is practically a pharmacy. You should see the pills in there, Cass. And I'm not kidding when I say that she could stock the laxatives aisle at Walgreens."
I put my hand on my hip. "Did you look in all the boxes and prescription bottles?"
"Every one."
"What about the top of the closet and under the bed?"
"I searched the whole upstairs, even her underwear drawer, and I'm not sure I'll ever live it down." She shook her head. "It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'granny panties.'"
At least there was no lingerie . "Why don't you go start on the kitchen?"
"Sure." She stepped into the entryway and stopped dead in her tracks.
The back door was making a creaking sound.
Gia and I froze and exchanged a look. Someone was in the kitchen.
We ran to the dining room on the other side of the stairs. Gia hid beside a china cabinet, and I knelt behind the wide wooden base of the round table.
I looked back to make sure that Gia was out of sight. I couldn't see her, but her tail was sticking out. That darn cat!
The footsteps became louder as the intruder walked from the kitchen to the living room. Then the person stopped in the area of the bookshelf. Next I heard the unmistakable sound of flipping pages and books hitting the hardwood floor.
Maybe I'd been on the right track after all.
I didn't need to look to know that Bertha was the intruder, but I did need to see anything that she might find.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and, at the speed of a snail, leaned to one side to peer around the pedestal base of the table.
And I almost fell over.
The intruder was Clyde Willard from Dr. Windom's office!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Stifling a scream, I ducked back behind the pedestal. Fear surged through my body like liquid ice. Clyde had narrow, shifty eyes, and his face had a weathered look to it—the kind that attested to a hard life and an even harder disposition. I was scared of Bertha, but I was terrified of Clyde, even though he did have one arm in a sling.
Even in the darkness, Clyde looked rough. He had an angry scowl on his face, and with every book he pulled from the shelf, his anger seemed to grow. He growled and grunted like a wild animal as he tore through pages and hurled books across the room.
The madder Clyde got, the more afraid I became. My breath was coming in bursts, a sign that a panic attack was looming, and the thudding sounds of the flying books weren't helping me any.
Leaning my forehead on the cold, wooden pedestal, I tried to calm myself. I couldn't fall apart, because Gia was depending on me. And despite the Catwoman getup she was wearing, she definitely didn't have nine lives.
The glare of a flashlight lit up the living room, and the house fell eerily silent.
Had Clyde found what he'd come for?
Logic dictated that I stay as still as a statue, but curiosity killed the cat—or the cat's sidekick, as it were. I had to know what he was looking at, and as I peeked around the pedestal, I hoped like heck that it wasn't me.
Clyde's head was bent over a book. The light from his flashlight illuminated his forearm, exposing purplish-brown spots, probably from the accident at the Pirate's Hook Marine Services.
I was trying to make out details of the cover when he threw the book in the direction of the kitchen.
"Where is it, Leona?" he yelled.
Leona? For a moment, I wondered
I must have gone through at least a hundred books when the grandfather clock struck nine and I practically jumped from my skin. I hadn't found anything—not a letter, a picture, or even a note scribbled in a margin. I was starting to think that this whole escapade had been futile, but I resolved to finish going through the books before I gave up.
I reached for Mother Goose Tales just as Puss in Boots sashayed down the stairs.
"That bedroom is like a hospital room," Gia began, stopping to lean over the railing, "and the bathroom is practically a pharmacy. You should see the pills in there, Cass. And I'm not kidding when I say that she could stock the laxatives aisle at Walgreens."
I put my hand on my hip. "Did you look in all the boxes and prescription bottles?"
"Every one."
"What about the top of the closet and under the bed?"
"I searched the whole upstairs, even her underwear drawer, and I'm not sure I'll ever live it down." She shook her head. "It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'granny panties.'"
At least there was no lingerie . "Why don't you go start on the kitchen?"
"Sure." She stepped into the entryway and stopped dead in her tracks.
The back door was making a creaking sound.
Gia and I froze and exchanged a look. Someone was in the kitchen.
We ran to the dining room on the other side of the stairs. Gia hid beside a china cabinet, and I knelt behind the wide wooden base of the round table.
I looked back to make sure that Gia was out of sight. I couldn't see her, but her tail was sticking out. That darn cat!
The footsteps became louder as the intruder walked from the kitchen to the living room. Then the person stopped in the area of the bookshelf. Next I heard the unmistakable sound of flipping pages and books hitting the hardwood floor.
Maybe I'd been on the right track after all.
I didn't need to look to know that Bertha was the intruder, but I did need to see anything that she might find.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and, at the speed of a snail, leaned to one side to peer around the pedestal base of the table.
And I almost fell over.
The intruder was Clyde Willard from Dr. Windom's office!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Stifling a scream, I ducked back behind the pedestal. Fear surged through my body like liquid ice. Clyde had narrow, shifty eyes, and his face had a weathered look to it—the kind that attested to a hard life and an even harder disposition. I was scared of Bertha, but I was terrified of Clyde, even though he did have one arm in a sling.
Even in the darkness, Clyde looked rough. He had an angry scowl on his face, and with every book he pulled from the shelf, his anger seemed to grow. He growled and grunted like a wild animal as he tore through pages and hurled books across the room.
The madder Clyde got, the more afraid I became. My breath was coming in bursts, a sign that a panic attack was looming, and the thudding sounds of the flying books weren't helping me any.
Leaning my forehead on the cold, wooden pedestal, I tried to calm myself. I couldn't fall apart, because Gia was depending on me. And despite the Catwoman getup she was wearing, she definitely didn't have nine lives.
The glare of a flashlight lit up the living room, and the house fell eerily silent.
Had Clyde found what he'd come for?
Logic dictated that I stay as still as a statue, but curiosity killed the cat—or the cat's sidekick, as it were. I had to know what he was looking at, and as I peeked around the pedestal, I hoped like heck that it wasn't me.
Clyde's head was bent over a book. The light from his flashlight illuminated his forearm, exposing purplish-brown spots, probably from the accident at the Pirate's Hook Marine Services.
I was trying to make out details of the cover when he threw the book in the direction of the kitchen.
"Where is it, Leona?" he yelled.
Leona? For a moment, I wondered
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