Deadly Dye and a Soy Chai: a Danger Cove Hair Salon Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 5) by Traci Andrighetti, Elizabeth Ashby

Barbicide it takes to kill someone?"
    Amy pushed up her glasses. "According to the study, fifty milliliters, which is a little over an ounce and a half."
    "That's about the amount that was missing from Lucy's jar," I noted. "Maybe a little less."
    "So now what?" Gia asked, snapping her eye patch into place.
    "I'm not sure," I said. "But when we go into the tavern, keep your eyes—well, your eye, Gia—and ears open. Practically everyone in town is going to be there, and you can bet they'll be talking about what happened to Margaret Appleby."
    Gia pulled her makeup case from her orange Moschino bag, dusted herself with bronzer, and then doused herself in Prada Candy perfume.
    Amy started coughing and clutched at her throat.
    "Seriously, Gia," I began, "can you conduct your chemical warfare outside the car?"
    "Of course not." She tamped down her lip stickers. "I can't reveal my weapons to the enemy."
    Tears streamed down Amy's cheeks as she pinched her nostrils shut. "I can keep my ears open, Cass, but I'm not sure about my eyes. Or my nose."
    I grimaced and climbed out of the car. There was no way I was going to catch a killer with these two as my sidekicks.
    Amy scrambled from the backseat, puffed her sleeves, and then hoofed it up the hill like a mountain goat. Gia and I, thanks to our high heels, legged it like camels that had taken a wrong turn out of the desert.
    "Why do they call this place the Smugglers' Tavern, anyway?" Gia asked.
    "I know," Amy said, trotting back down the hill to join us. "They named it after the smugglers who brought banned English goods and supplies here in the 1800s. The caves they used to store their loot are right below this cliff."
    I sniffed. "What a town. Founded by prostitutes, pirates, and smugglers."
    Gia nodded. "Just like Atlantic City."
    I flashed a wry smile. "What did they smuggle, anyway?"
    "Tea, clothes, medicine." Amy raised her finger in the air. "Oh, and during Prohibition, they smuggled moonshine."
    "I could use a shot of that now to get me up this road," Gia said.
    "But we're practically there," Amy said, pointing to a rustic red brick building up ahead. "Amazing view, isn't it?"
    Beyond the tavern lay Danger Cove. The lighthouse was lit, illuminating the dark clouds forming around the gray moon and the black water swirling below.
    I shuddered and pulled my pink pashmina scarf around my shoulders. The view seemed more ominous than amazing. "Let's go inside."
    Gia pranced up the walkway and opened the door. "We have a reserved table, right?"
    "In the name of The Clip and Sip," I replied as I scanned the wood-paneled room. "The confirmation I got from the Save the Lighthouse Committee said it would be in the seating area to the right of the bar toward the back."
    "What?" Gia exclaimed. "Why not just put us in the garden outside?"
    "I'm sure they weren't trying to hide us," I replied as we headed for the rear of the tavern. Although I had my doubts about that.
    To the left of the bar, I spotted an elderly woman sitting at the table reserved for the lighthouse committee. I grabbed Amy by the arm. "Isn't that the mystery writer, Elizabeth Ashby?"
    "In the flesh."
    "I heard that she was kind of reclusive. What do you suppose she's doing with the committee members?"
    "She donated part of the proceeds of her last book, Murder at the Lighthouse , to the committee. I'm sure they twisted her arm to get her to sit with them. Speaking of which…" She looked down.
    "Oh. Sorry." I released my grip on her bicep and continued toward the back of the tavern. "I don't see an empty table anywhere."
    "I think there's a booth behind that big anchor they have on display," Amy said, pointing to a secluded corner. "Maybe that's it?"
    My heart sank. Gia was right. They had deliberately placed us out of sight at a table that was probably popular with couples seeking privacy but not with business owners wanting visibility.
    Amy rushed ahead and slid into the booth. She gave the vinyl seat a pat. "It sure