A daring holiday heist at the local history museum sends hairstylist Marla Vail on her most tangled case yet.When salon owner Marla Vail agrees to speak at the local history museum’s gala opening for a new exhibit, she expects applause—not a catastrophe. But shortly after she takes the stage, a thief steals the featured diamond-studded hairbrush, leaving behind an empty display case and a badly injured security guard.
Marla’s friend, museum curator Becky Forest, begs for her help in recovering the prized heirloom before the mayor uses this scandal as an excuse to cut their funding. To make matters worse, the antique hairbrush comes with a curse, and suddenly bad luck is spreading through town faster than a botched dye job. As Hanukkah festivities begin, Marla would rather be lighting candles than chasing clues, but with Becky’s job at stake, she takes on the case.
Her trail leads to a knot of suspects including the hairbrush’s owner, his greedy cousin, shifty museum staff, and a reclusive collector of mystical antiquities. Instead of enjoying menorah lights and latkes, Marla discovers murder, lies, and larceny. She’ll need sharp wits and a holiday miracle to save the museum and to keep the truth from being brushed aside.
Retracing her steps, she realized she’d missed a turnoff from the kitchen. It led to a storage area for fine bone china and glassware, a dumbwaiter for delivering food to the second floor, and a wine cellar down a short flight of steps. She could smell the barrel-aged wine even from here.
Wait, what? Florida homes didn’t have basements. In her mind’s eye, she regarded the house from the outside. It had been built on a slope, presumably allowing for a lower level.
The owner must have stashed his bootlegger liquor there. In that case, the cellar might have a tunnel leading away from the house. And this inner door would have been disguised to hide its true purpose during a raid.
For that matter, where was the vault hidden? Upstairs in the master suite?
A brilliant thought hit, and she smacked her head. If she or Dalton had thought of it earlier, they could have obtained a blueprint of the place. Too late now, but that would have made things a lot easier. Now she just had her own intuition to guide her.
She peered down the stairs to the dark cellar but didn’t hear any voices coming from that direction. Quietly, she shut the door. Dread pressed upon her shoulders as she realized she’d have to go upstairs. This hadn’t been in her game plan. If she were wise, she’d wait outside until Dalton could get there. Or she could grab a defensive weapon just in case Sierra was in trouble and continue to search for her.
Dalton had once given her pepper spray for her purse, but she was afraid she’d end up breathing in the fumes herself if she used it. Nor had she wanted to learn how to use a knife or a gun like he’d suggested. Her wits would have to suffice, and so far, they’d served her well.
A solid bookend from the library might serve her purpose. She reentered that room and scanned the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined the walls. As she listened to a clock ticking in the background, she heard those faint voices again.
She glanced around for a bookend and spotted a heavy flashlight on one shelf. She lifted the bulky tool and turned on the beam, scouring the shelves. If the house did have hidden passages, this would be a good location for one.
She hesitated when something struck her as peculiar about that panel in the middle. As she splayed her beam back and forth, she noticed it seemed wider than the other sections. Moving closer, she pressed her fingers around the edges, but nothing happened. Then she tilted each book on the shelves one by one.
Would the titles make a difference? She squinted at them, trying to read the faded print. They looked like stories from classic literature.
She’d read some of these titles in school, but none of them struck her as fitting the action-adventure genre. Instinct told her she was onto something, especially when she heard voices murmuring again.
Wait a minute. You have a literature professor in the family. Text Reed for a clue.
She hastily composed her query and sent it off, hoping he was near his phone. Remembering to put hers on silent mode, she paced back and forth while waiting for a response.
A few moments later, she suppressed a whoop of triumph. Reed had responded with just the info she needed.
Oh, man. She could really use a directory to the library. Shivering in the air-conditioning, she went back to studying the book titles and examined the ones nearest the panel that appeared a tad too wide. There! King Solomon’s Mines.
“Reed, you’re a genius.” She tilted the book outward. Immediately, a click sounded, followed by a rumbling noise.
Hairstylist Marla Shore untangles a knot of secrets when she’s suspected of poisoning her client’s coffee creamer in this debut case.
Nancy J. Cohen writes the Bad Hair Day Mysteries featuring South Florida hairstylist Marla Vail. Titles in this series have been named Best Cozy Mystery by Suspense Magazine, won the Readers’ Favorite Book Awards and the RONE Award, placed first in the Chanticleer International Book Awards and third in the Arizona Literary Awards. Her nonfiction titles, Writing the Cozy Mystery and A Bad Hair Day Cookbook, have won the FAPA President’s Book Award, the Royal Palm Literary Award, and IAN Book of the Year. When not busy writing, Nancy enjoys reading, fine dining, cruising, and visiting Disney World.
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Thanks so much for hosting me here!
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