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)
I logged off my computer. I didn’t think Cheryl or the chief would be so intrusive as to look at my screen after I was gone, but I didn’t want to take any chances. If I was wrong about the hair salon, it could mean bad things for their business. I needed some corroboration before bringing the lead to the chief’s desk.
While walking about five blocks to the salon, and all I could think about was Lindsey. I had stolen her cabin out from under her, and now I was about to accuse her boss of running an illegal drug and money-laundering operation. I would have to be extra delicate when asking her questions.
It was six o’clock. When I reached the salon, I could see Lindsey through the window, sweeping the floor. I tried the door, but it was locked. She looked up from her chores and smiled. She smiled at me, and for some reason, that sent a wave of guilt crashing into my stomach.
She came to the door, unlocking it to let me in.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” she replied.
All the way over here, I could have been forming a plan for what I would say, but I had been too busy thinking about her and the cabin. I had signed all the papers yesterday, and the home was officially mine. That made her officially my tenant and out of bounds for any romantic affair. Still, the tiny wisps of hair that escaped her ponytail framed her face with an innocent charm that I found irresistible. Her mouth was a temptation against creamy skin, and I fought the urge to plant a kiss on those plump red lips.
“Do you need a ride home?” I asked, seizing on the first excuse that came to mind.
She shook her head, turning away from me. “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. And it’s not your ‘home’ yet.”
“Actually, I signed the papers yesterday. The cabin’s all mine.” That came out less tactful than I had planned.
She turned back, her eyes narrowed, that familiar death stare sizzling the air between us. Her fingers choked the broom handle, and I flinched, wondering if I was going to have to dodge a missile.
“You still have a few days to yourself.” I tried to smooth over her anxiety. “I’m not moving in until the weekend.”
She retreated to the salon floor to continue sweeping. I watched her backside as the broad strokes of the broom caused her to flex and unflex. She caught me staring and stopped what she was doing. This time she seemed more disappointed than angry.
“What are you still doing here?” she asked.
“How many people work here?” I blurted out.
“Six,” she said.
That was four more than I had seen. “Does that include the owner?”
“No,” she said. “Seven including the owner.”
“I’ve only ever seen you and Ava here.”
She sighed. Clearly, I was interfering with her closing routing and causing her to run late. “Two of the girls are part-time.”
“What do the other three people do?” I asked.
“There’s the owner, a manager, and an assistant manager,” she said.
“What do they do?” I wondered.
“Why do you want to know?” she snapped.
“I’m just wondering if you are adequately supported,” I lied.
“Really?” She sneered. “It’s not enough that you’re moving into my home, now you want to stick your nose into my place of business too?”
“It’s not like that…” I said.
“Then what’s it like?” she demanded.
This whole conversation suddenly reminded me of Angie, my soon-to-be ex-wife. Except, this was different. Lindsey was challenging yet rational. The combination was refreshing. Angie would have been throwing things by now, crying, begging, cursing. Not for the first time, I wondered what had happened to her. Where had she gone, and what was she doing with her life?
She had my brand-new Ford Bronco, most of my money, and four, almost five months of freedom. Had she ensnared another man? I was pretty sure she had. Before me, there had been a string of boyfriends, all too smart to be lured into marriage. Likely she had settled down with the next unlucky bastard and was sharing my fortune with him. It all had nothing to do with Lindsey, but I’d lost my stomach for dealing with women.
Did I really want to move back in with another woman? Sure, Lindsey was beautiful and resourceful and intelligent. And sure, she seemed to have a more rational head on her shoulders than Angie had, but hadn’t I taken enough abuse in the past ten years to last a lifetime?
“I’m sorry I asked,” I told Lindsey abruptly.
“Fine,” she snapped.
I turned without another word and stalked to the door. A set of bells chimed as I breezed through, out into the twilight. I marched all the way back to the police station, trying to squash recollections of my former wife. It wouldn’t help to bring all my baggage with me to my new life. Already, I had learned that one of the three conditions to suspect money laundering was true. There were staff members attached to the hair salon that appeared to serve no purpose. It wasn’t a big enough business to demand an owner, a manager, and an assistant manager. Ava and Lindsey seemed to run the place perfectly well on their own when they were working. And who these other two stylists were, I didn’t know. More than likely, if my suspicions were correct, they were friends of criminal partners who needed a cover to receive illegal payments.