Broom and Gloom: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 9 by Barritt Christy

Author:Barritt, Christy [Barritt, Christy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: River Heights
Published: 2014-12-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

I arrived five minutes early for my appointment and walked into a trendy-looking salon filled with workers with trendy clothes and trendy hair in a shop located in a—you guessed it—trendy-looking shopping center. A woman at the desk greeted me and immediately led me to a station in the corner and introduced me to Poppy.

Poppy had black hair that was cut into a blunt wedge. She was tall with sharp features and well-tanned skin. Her clothes were all too tight, and tattoos peeked out from every available spot—beneath her sleeves, on her midriff, up her neck.

She popped the gum in her mouth. “What can I do for you?”

She stood behind me and started picking at pieces of my hair as she stared at me in the mirror with a cool detachment.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror and realized how tired I looked and what a huge mistake it had been to forget my styling gel when I packed. “I’d like a blowout.”

She sulked. “With these curls? It’s going to take some time to straight iron these.”

“That’s why I pay someone else to do it. I have no patience to do it myself.” I flashed a smile.

“Let’s get you shampooed, then.”

I tried to be long-suffering as she washed my hair, because that was no time to strike up a conversation. I also tried to persevere as she blow-dried my hair, tugging mercilessly at my strands. That was also a terrible time to try and talk.

All of that said, I realized my time was whittling away and I should have probably chosen something simpler like just a haircut. Then I would have had plenty of time to try and get information out of her.

Finally, she put the hair dryer down and picked up the flat iron. It was just in time, too, because my hair right now looked like Bozo’s right after he stuck his finger in a light socket.

“So, Georgia usually does my hair. Did I hear she’s not here anymore?” I tried to sound casual.

She shrugged. “Yeah, she’s gone. No one really knows what happened to her.”

“She didn’t turn in her notice or anything?”

She shrugged again. “Maybe she went to another salon. It’s not usual. She probably tried to take her clients with her, which we sign a clause saying we’re not going to do. Maybe quitting without explanation was the easiest way to get around it. Of course, I guess this means she didn’t contact you.” She raised her eyebrows as if to say, “Too bad, too sad.”

I ignored the look. “Did anyone ever think it was suspicious she didn’t come back?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You know something I don’t?”

“I mean, if she went on her own, I’m totally offended that she didn’t contact me. I considered myself to be a loyal client.”

That seemed to appease her, because she shrugged. Still, she said nothing.

“I always get suspicious when people drop off the radar,” I continued. “My cousin did that once. Turned out she ran off with her boyfriend, who was a drug addict.

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