A Death-Drop to Die For: A Jeannie Tannenbaum Mystery

By Jacqueline Freimor

In “A Death-Drop to Die For,” private eye Jeannie Tannenbaum discovers that murder is a real drag.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wildside Press
• Release date: Sep 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781479466634

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COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

A DEATH-DROP TO DIE FOR, by Jacqueline Freimor

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline Freimor.

Original publication by Wildside Press, LLC.

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A DEATH-DROP TO DIE FOR,

by Jacqueline Freimor

Oh, honey, Michael said, peering at the brassy streaks in my hair, what have you done to yourself?

I know, I said, grateful he’d agreed to see me after hours, with no customers around to witness my shame. And look at the back. I turned. Even though it was dark in the reception area, it was well lighted where we were standing near the hairdressing stations, and I knew Michael could see every hideous strand of my home dye job. Cringing, I swiveled back to face him.

Michael clutched imaginary pearls. "Oh Mylanta! This is even worse than you said. But why did you turn to Miss Clairol instead of Miss Thing? Are you breaking up with me?"

I shook my head vigorously. Of course not. Husbands may come and go, but hairdressers are forever. It was true. I was no longer married, but I’d stayed with Michael for fifteen years as he’d moved from one salon to another, from town to town in suburban New York and now to his own sleek, uber-chic space in New York City. I shrugged. It’s just that...

I was at an uncharacteristic loss for words. Why hadn’t I called him? He was my hairdresser, yes, but he was also my friend, a friend I’d laughed with, and cried with, and—on more than one occasion—sworn off men with. We’d seen each other through marriages bad (mine) and good (his), as well as career obstacles (many), but we were both doing well now, with me running my own private investigation business and Michael running his own salon. And the salon was only one component of what was lately becoming Michael’s brand. He had a gazillion YouTube channel subscribers, who made his makeover tutorials go viral, and he’d recently signed on as a stylist for the ultra-exclusive wigmaker Rémy, and he... oh. I was beginning to see what my problem was.

It’s just that you’re so busy, I blurted. I didn’t want to, you know, bother you.

Michael placed his hands on his hips and goggled at me. Jeannie, he said. "Gurrrl."

"You’re a social media influencer,"