Four-Patch of Trouble (29 page)

"Okay." He gave an opportunist smile. "Then how about dinner?"

I felt my face flush. "I…I'd rather pay you for your time." I shoved three twenties into his hand. "That should cover it."

He looked from the money to me. "For now."

I nodded and then did a double take when I processed what he'd said. But before I could respond, Tucker flashed the peace sign out the driver's window and sped away.

"Can you believe that Zac guy?" I asked as I stared after the truck.

Amy punched me in the arm—again. "He was hitting on you."

"
You're
hitting on me," I corrected. "What's up with you today?"

"Someone has to knock some sense into you." She put her hand on her hip. "Zac Taylor is one of the most sought-after guys in town. You owe it to those of us who'll never get a date with him to go for it."

I crossed my arms. "I told you. I'm not interested in dating right now."

She looked me straight in the eyes. "It's because of whatever happened between you and that guy back in Fredericksburg, isn't it?"

"That has nothing to do with it," I fibbed, wishing I'd never alluded to the unfortunate incident. "You know that between the hair salon and my class, I've got more on my plate than I can handle."

"That reminds me," Amy said as she reached into her messenger bag. "Here's that textbook you wanted."

"Thanks." I took the accounting tome, and the sheer weight of it served as a reminder of the burden of school. "If I don't make a C or better on that quiz in the morning, I'll have to drop the course."

"You can do it." Amy straddled her bike in her blue pencil skirt. "Are we still on for Girls' Night tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." I frowned at the textbook. "Pass or fail, I'm going to need to get my drink on. This has been a hard week, and the statue strip tease just now didn't help."

She wrinkled her forehead. "Is everything okay?"

I shrugged. "Business has been especially bad. I can count the number of clients that Lucy, Gia, and I've had on two hands."

"Well, you've only been in town for a few months. The customers will come."

"Yeah." I stared at the pink-and-orange plaid pattern on my shirt. "I'm sure they will."

Amy looked at her watch. "My lunch hour's almost up. I'd better get back to the library."

"'K. See you tomorrow night." I watched Amy ride away and wondered whether the customers really would come. In the four months that I'd been in Danger Cove, I'd gotten a real education, and it had nothing to do with my degree. The people of the town were nice but wary of me and my salon. And now that I knew why, I couldn't say that I blamed them. As much as I'd wanted to escape small-town Texas, I might have stayed put if I'd known the truth about Uncle Vinnie and this building.

*   *   *

I stared at the bank balance on my laptop screen. That couldn't be right, could it? The clock was showing the correct time, two thirty p.m., so my computer was working properly. I blinked in case something was clouding my vision. Nope, still the same number. I tried closing my weak eye, but it was no use. Any way I looked at it, I had three months of money before my inheritance from Uncle Vinnie ran out. I sighed and rested my head on the back of the wooden chair.

"I hear I missed quite a show today," my step-cousin, Gia Di Mitri, said from the doorway of the salon break room.

I turned my head to glare at her but winced instead. I didn't know which was more blinding—the afternoon sun shining through the bay window or Gia's bright blue stretch top, pink cheetah print tights, and neon yellow stilettos. "Who told you that?"

"Woman Mouth," she replied, translating Donna Bocca's name from Italian. "I was shopping at Lily's Lingerie when she came in for her shift. She told everyone in the store that the statue gave Zac Taylor a lap dance." She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of lemon soda. "Which is pretty funny if you think about it."

"Yeah. Hilarious." Despite my sarcasm, I
could
see the humor. It was a tragic comedy.

Gia popped the tab on the can and flopped into a chair. "Just remember, Cass, there's no such thing as bad publicity."

"No?" I spread my arms to emphasize the emptiness of the salon.

Lucy O'Connell rushed into the room, her curly red tendrils flying. "Sorry I'm late," she said as she took a seat at the table. "Since we didn't have any clients, I babysat for Mallory Winchester while she ran an errand, but it took longer than she expected." She bit her lip. "She said it was because she had to stop by here to see your porno yard sale with her own two eyes."

"Yard sale?" Now I took offense to that but not to the "porno" part. I was hardly the type to sell the girls—and by that I mean "the merchandise"—on the front lawn.

Gia's shiny lips straightened into a flat line. "Yeah, I'll bet she wanted to see it—every square inch."

"Oh, Mallory wouldn't have any interest in those statues," Lucy said. "She's into Pennsylvania Dutch art."

Gia rolled her eyes.

"Let's just start the meeting," I interjected. As upset as I was about Mallory's take on the event, I had to brush it off—just like I'd brushed off the news that the Victorian home I lived and worked in had a hundred-year history as a brothel for local lumberjacks. "Now," I began, glancing at my notes, "the plan is still to grow The Clip and Sip to fill the three empty salon chairs and hire a receptionist, despite the lack of customers."

Lucy cleared her throat. "Yeah, about that…"

I looked up.

"Um, if business doesn't pick up soon…"

"Yeah?" Gia prodded, tapping the silver-glittered tips of her French manicured nails on the table.

Lucy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Well, I'll have to find another job."

My heart sank. I couldn't lose Lucy. I'd had to lure Gia from New Jersey with the promise of free room and board after Lucy was the only hairstylist in Danger Cove who'd answered my ad. "I understand."

"I'm sorry," Lucy said, big blue eyes welling with tears. "It's just that I won't ever be able to save enough money to marry Sven."

Sven Mattsun was a Swedish exchange student from Stockholm whom Lucy had fallen head over heels for two years ago during their senior year at Danger Cove High
School. Ever since he'd returned home last year, Lucy had been scrimping and saving to pay for her to move to Sweden and their wedding.

Gia snorted. "What do you really know about the Swedish Fish, anyway?"

"Gia!" I scolded. "Sven's not a piece of candy."

"Too bad for Lucy," she said, examining a lock of her hair for split ends.

Lucy's chin trembled. "I know that I love him, no matter what you think."

Gia tossed the lock of hair to the side and shook her head.

"I met Sven when he came for a visit, and he's very nice," I said in a soothing tone for Lucy's benefit. Then I turned to Gia. "He's way better than those brainless bodybuilder types you go for. They can barely carry on a conversation."

She flipped her silky black hair over her shoulder. "Who needs to talk?"

I smirked. "Men aren't just for sex, you know."

"Who said anything about sex? I just meant that men aren't exactly known for their conversational skills."

She had me there. "Give it a little more time, Lucy. I have some ideas to bring in more business."

"Really?" Her eyes widened. "Like what?"

"For starters, The Clip and Sip now serves alcohol." I handed each of them a copy of the new drink menu. "Every customer gets either a free glass of wine or one of my homemade liqueurs."

Lucy's face brightened. "This is awesome. It'll feel more like a spa experience."

Gia took a sip of soda as she perused the drink list. "And a little Texas moonshine might help to alleviate the bitter taste in people's mouths about the building's past."

I shot her a look. "Peach liqueur hardly qualifies as moonshine. Anyway, Gia, you'll also offer a complimentary manicure to our customers."
She dropped the menu. "How will I get paid?"

"I'll have to cover your commission during the promotion." I couldn't afford it, but it was the least I could do. Even though my Aunt Carla had married Gia's father, Frank, ten years before when we were both sixteen, my Uncle Vinnie hadn't left Gia so much as a mention in his will. Apparently, he hadn't been as into family as my dad, Domenic. But now that I thought about it, ever since my dad had divorced my mom last year and moved back to his native New Jersey, he didn't seem too interested in family, either.

Gia patted me on the back. "Thanks, Cass."

"Also," I began, "since we're so close to Seattle, we're going to offer coffee drinks. I bought a professional-grade espresso machine by Nuova Simonelli."

"Those are like twelve grand!" Gia exclaimed. "I knew your Uncle Vinnie was loaded."

"He wasn't. I bought the machine on credit." My stomach turned as I admitted that last part. "Anyway, I'm glad you're excited about the machine, because you're going to make the drinks."

"I'm going to make cawffee too?" she squawked, her New Jersey accent rearing its colorful head. "Why do all of your new promotions involve me?"

"Because you have skills that Lucy and I don't," I replied. "Plus, your makeup services haven't exactly taken off."

Her eyes narrowed. "It's not my fault that the nature-loving ladies of Danger Cove don't appreciate the smoky eye."

The smoky eye was the unofficial state look of New Jersey. But the combination of purple, blue, and even green eye shadow with smudged eyeliner would be more appropriately named "the sickly eye." "No, but it is your fault that you don't apply makeup that's suited to the client."

"But the whole point of makeup is to look made up, not…" She wrinkled her mouth. "…
natural
."

"The
whole point
is to make the client happy," I snapped. "Now, I've put an ad about our new services in the
Cove Chronicle
that will start running today. In the meantime, I need the two of you to spread the word, especially you, Lucy. Tell all of your girlfriends and their moms."

She nodded. "I'm sorry to bring this up, but…"

Gia exhaled loudly. "For crying out loud—just spit it out."

"Is there any update on getting the ceiling fixed?"

Gia and I exchanged a look.

"I know it's a sensitive subject," Lucy continued, "and I wouldn't normally bring it up, but it's starting to sag. And since it's right above my chair…"

I shifted in my seat. "Well, I'll have to get police permission for a plumber to go into Uncle Vinnie's room. I can stop by the station today."

"Thanks, Cassidi."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

Gia turned to me and cocked a well-plucked brow. "Is that it?"

I looked at my meeting agenda. "That's all I have."

"No, I mean, is that all you have planned to bring in new clients? Because, if you ask me, we need something bigger."

Of course, I hadn't asked Gia, but I knew from experience that she was going to tell me exactly what she thought. "What do you have in mind?"

"Egypt." Her face beamed brighter than her outfit.

I blinked. "I'm not following you."

Gia stood up and started to pace. "Think Cleopatra, the most regal and seductive queen of all time."

"O-kay," I said.

"We want to make women feel like her. You know, spread out all sexy on a gold chaise lounge."

I was pretty sure that the chaise lounge was a modern French invention, but whatever.

"So, picture this," Gia continued, motioning like a movie director, "we give the clients blowouts. But instead of the smoky eye we do the Cleopatra eye. And the whole time they're in the chair tanned bodybuilders are fanning them with those big feather-duster things and feeding them with their hands."

I stared at Gia openmouthed, and Lucy went pale.

"You do realize, don't you, that using sex to sell the salon is exactly what I
don't
want to do?" I paused for effect. "For obvious reasons."

"Gawd!" Gia threw her head back in frustration. "Sex sells, Cassidi. It sold when this place was a brothel, and it sold when your Uncle Vinnie ran his hair salon here. That's why his business was so successful."

"Yes." I met her gaze straight on. "But that's also what got him murdered."

CHAPTER TWO

Gia was the first to speak. "You don't know that Vinnie's death had anything to do with sex."

"Oh, no?" I arched a brow. "Then how do you explain the black fishnet stocking around his neck? The one with the red sequin heart appliqué?"

"Don't forget the black silk ribbon," Lucy added with a nod.

"That doesn't prove he was with a woman," Gia said with a shooing motion. "Maybe a jealous husband strangled him."

I crossed my arms. "Still sex-related."

Gia flipped her hair. "Well, even if it was, he was living the life. You know, that whole 'wine, women, and song' thing that old people always talk about. And he told my step-mom that business was so good, he already had enough money to retire."

"Maybe he was trying to impress Aunt Carla," I said. Because the amount he'd left me was only enough to keep afloat for about six months.

The salon bell sounded.

"That must be Margaret Appleby," Lucy said, rising to her feet.

Gia grimaced. "You mean, Miss Marple."

"Lower your voice," I whispered.

Lucy grabbed the new drink menu. "I'll take this out to her."

I turned to Gia. "Margaret has been coming here since Uncle Vinnie owned the salon. Please be polite to her."

"Fine," she huffed. "But, blue hair aside, that woman is straight out of an Agatha Christie movie."

"Novel," I corrected. "And she's one of the sweetest ladies I've ever met."

"I agree, but it totally creeps me out when she takes a nap under the hair dryer. She looks like she's dead."

"Give her a break, will you? She's eighty years old."

 "I know." Gia gave me a pointed look. "But I get that bad feeling every time she comes in."

I sighed. Ever since Gia had predicted that my relationship with my ex, Shane Austin, would end badly—a fact that the entire town of Fredericksburg had also foreseen—she thought that she had psychic powers. "I don't care if you get a stabbing feeling—you're going to greet her with a smile. Because if I go under, you go under.
Capish?
"