Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“What are you doing here?” Lena snapped.
“Calm down,” came her husband’s voice.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Lena screamed. “The shipment is late.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, set it down on the styling desk, and hit Record.
“Take it easy,” her husband said.
“It’s never late!” Lena cried. “Something must have happened. Did you hear anything?”
“I haven’t talked to them.”
“Well, get them on the phone!”
“And say what? That we messed up?”
“That wasn’t me.”
“They’re not going to care.”
“Get on the phone with them and find out why the shipment is late!” Lena burst out of the office, pushing her husband toward the door.
At the same time, they both glanced over to see me, Ava, and my customer staring at them. Lena growled, whirling to storm back into her office. Her husband straightened his shirt, nodded somewhat politely at us, and turned in the opposite direction. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Ava looked at me with raised eyebrows. What the hell was going on?
I stopped the recording on my phone and slipped it back into my pocket. What were they talking about? What shipment? The conversation had seemed way too dramatic to be centered around hair care products.
“What was that all about?” the customer asked.
I shook my head. “She’s been off all day.”
“Maybe we should talk to Katrina?” Ava suggested. “She’s gonna want to know that Lena is chasing customers away.”
“Let’s hold off on that right now,” I said. For some reason, I didn’t trust Katrina either. If the manager was chest-deep in the drug trade, then how could the owner be innocent? What if we tipped off Katrina and that interfered with Jason’s case? Worse, what if they decided we knew too much and sent their ex-convict driver to settle the score. Suddenly, I was happy to be living with Singer’s Ridge’s newest police detective. At least I would be guaranteed safety within my own home.
Ava and I were cleaning our stations when Lena erupted from the back office again. She was carrying her purse and didn’t even acknowledge us as she tore through the salon and out into the afternoon. Ava and I were left blissfully alone, no customers, no irate boss.
“What the hell?” Ava gaped as soon as the coast was clear.
I shook my head, too stunned to process it.
“Have you ever seen her acting like that before?”
I shook my head again. Lena had always been short-tempered, but I had never seen her go off the deep end like that. “Something must be really wrong.”
“What were they talking about?” Ava puzzled. “A shipment? A shipment of what?”
I thought about the four sacks of money that I had helped transfer to an unmarked van. Four sacks every week added up to hundreds of sacks each year. How much money was in each one of those bags? Where had the money come from, and where was it going? How did the drugs fit in?
“Don’t say anything to Katrina,” I cautioned my friend. “I’m going to talk to Jason tonight. He’ll tell us what to do.”
Ava nodded. “I almost thought she was going to stab her customer with the scissors.”
I exhaled a shocked breath. “Me too.”
At home that night, I waited eagerly to hear Jason’s truck in the driveway. I made a chicken pot pie. There was a lot of work that went into it—simmering the chicken, chopping vegetables, cutting butter into flour to make the crust. But I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t focus on my book either; besides, the only TV in the cabin was in Jason’s bedroom. I needed something to keep myself occupied. By the time I got the pie in the oven, it was seven-thirty, and there was nothing left for me to do but sit down and wait.
Jason got home at nine. I nearly pounced on him as he dropped his keys, ringing my arms around his neck. We kissed lightly, just like a wife welcoming her husband home. His eyes softened to half-moons, and his mouth curled into a smile.
“Well, hello,” he said.
“Hello.” I dropped the hug and stepped back, suddenly awkward. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Something smells good.” He looked over my shoulder to find the pie cooling on the kitchen island.
“Help yourself,” I said, circling the couch to give him room.
He went to the kitchen, found a plate, and helped himself to a slice. “What’s up?”
I inhaled, prepared to begin my sordid story. “Lena was in a big mood today. Lena’s the manager. The one with me in the pictures you took.”
He nsodded, his mouth full.
“She was so freaking angry, she even got into a fight with a customer and almost threatened her.” I watched as his eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing. “Later, her husband came into the salon, and they had an argument about a shipment.” I pulled out my phone. “I recorded it.”