You, Lieutenant Riff said tapping a fingertip against my forehead, are completely certifiable. Do you know that? I started to protest but she stopped me short with a raised palm. And owning a gun does not make you James-freaking-Bond. But... But my Aunt Fanny! she said. What the hell are you going to do next? Stop cutting hair and become a private investigator? Hmmm, I said and stroked my chin with a thumb and forefinger. Think anyone would hire me? Actually, the last thing Max Snow ever thought he'd find himself doing was the P.I. boogaloo, but when the co-owner of his salon dies in a suspicious house fire the authorities rule accidental, Max mounts a by-the-seat-of-his-pants investigation to confirm his theory of foul play. Murder to the Max is the first in a series of Max Snow adventures. The second, Mafia to the Max, finds our maestro of comb and shears resisting a ruthless Chicago crime family as they attempt to turn his salon into a laundry for dirty money. for Homeland Security, as stylist and makeup artist for a funeral home where the undertakers are terrorists, and the stiffs are stuffed with secrets.