Deadly Dye and a Soy Chai: a Danger Cove Hair Salon Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 5) Read Online Free PDF

happen, not now. I had to try to resuscitate Margaret. The problem was that I didn't have the faintest idea how. "Do you know CPR?"
    Lucy shook her head and held up her hand to silence me. "W-we need a-an ambulance at 627 Fletcher Way," she stammered into the receiver. "Th-there's been a-an accident with an elderly client."
    By now the room was beginning to tilt, so I did the 5-2-5 breathing exercise I'd been taught to ease my anxiety. I inhaled for five counts, held my breath for two, exhaled for five.
    "Hang on." Lucy pulled the phone from her face. "What are Margaret's symptoms?"
    "Can't you see that she's blue?" I yelled at the top of my air-filled lungs. "People who turn blue aren't breathing, right?"
    So much for that calming technique.
    Lucy listened to the 9-1-1 operator, and then her mouth contracted in horror. "Oh, no," she wailed. "I-I can't touch her. She looks…d-d-dead."
    Okay, so Lucy wasn't good in a crisis either. It was time to pull myself together. After all, I was the owner of the salon, and a client's life depended on me. "What are they telling you to do?"
    "Lay her flat and do mouth-to-mouth."
    I slipped off my jean jacket. "Grab Margaret's feet and help me lower her to the floor."
    Lucy laid her phone on the floor. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip as we struggled to lift Margaret from the chair and place her on the floor.
    "Talk about dead weight," I muttered. I realized the magnitude of what I'd said only after I saw Lucy's stricken face. "I didn't mean it that way," I soothed as I put my jacket beneath Margaret's head. "She's going to be fine."
    Lucy swallowed. "What do we do now?"
    "Whatever the 9-1-1 operator tells us," I replied with a calmness I didn't feel. "You listen to the instructions and repeat them to me. Understand?"
    She nodded and put the phone to her ear. "She's on the floor. We're ready for the next step."
    The salon bell buzzed as the door burst open.
    "What?" Gia spread her arms wide. "So now we're making Sleeping Beauty a pallet on the floor?"
    "Shh!" I hissed. "Lucy's talking to 9-1-1. Something's wrong with Margaret."
    Since silence wasn't a skill Gia practiced, she scurried over in her stilettos, removed her supersized sunglasses, and squinted at Margaret. "Holy freakin' cannoli. If she were a guy, she could join the Blue Man Group."
    I shot her a look of death. "Can you please cut the jokes and help us? This is serious."
    "Who's joking?" Gia exclaimed. "The woman looks like Nanny Smurf. What'd she do? Drink her hair dye?"
    "Of course not!" I snapped, although I had my doubts, given Margaret's blue hue. "She stopped breathing."
    "Then why are yous just sittin' there?" she exclaimed in New Jerseyese. "Start chest compressions!"
    I gasped. " You know CPR?"
    Gia fell to her knees and ripped the cape from Margaret. "I worked as a barista in Atlantic City, remember?"
    "So?"
    "Do you know how many hipsters OD on artisanal coffee?" she asked as she began pumping Margaret's chest.
    I made a mental note to monitor the coffee intake of my customers, especially those wearing hats, scarves, and skinny jeans. Then I remembered that soy chai latte. Was it possible that the small amount of caffeine in the tea had stopped Margaret's heart?
    "CPR is underway," Lucy said into the receiver. Then, seemingly without thinking, she ended the call and clutched the phone to her chest.
    As Gia alternated between pumps and breaths, I examined Margaret. She had a bluish tint to her lips and skin, like she'd been stained by blue ink—or blue dye. Even her yellowed fingernails had turned a pale shade of blue, which made my stomach lurch. The rinse Lucy had used was designed to take the yellow out of gray hair. So, was Gia right? Had Margaret somehow ingested the dye?
    The sound of sirens and the ringing phone shook me from my thoughts. "Lucy, that's probably 9-1-1 calling you back."
    She jumped and pressed Answer. "Hello?"
    I watched her carefully. She was kind of fragile, and I was worried that this