Page 71 of Dead Men Tell No Shells

“An accessible drawer.”

“Ricky.”

“What? I’m not displaying it in the front window. I’m being discreet.” He followed us into the dining room, carrying the green beans. “Besides, I’ve removed the part about possible hair-related motives. Tammy said that was making the whole thing look unprofessional.”

“It was making it look ridiculous,” Tammy said, setting down the gravy boat.

“Those aren't mutually exclusive.”

I laughed despite myself, grateful for the familiar rhythm of their bickering. The past week had made it difficult to think about much beyond Harvey Sinclair’s death, the unanswered questions surrounding it, and the way Josiah’s return had turned every ordinary interaction into something I had to think about twice. It was good to sit at a table with people who knew me well enough not to expect me to explain every silence.

We settled into our usual places, and for a few minutes, conversation revolved around the food. Tammy wanted to know whether I’d made any progress on my manuscript, while Ricky complained that his latest client had brought in a photograph of a hairstyle that would require either three extra hands or a small miracle. I told him that if he ever found a miracle that could make his suspect board useful, I hoped he’d share it with the rest of us.

Then, while Tammy was passing the rolls, Ricky paused with his hand halfway across the table. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Something happened at the salon yesterday that might actually be relevant to Harvey.”

Tammy stopped reaching for the butter, and I set down my fork. “Something about the board?” I asked.

“No. This was after you two left.” Ricky glanced between us, looking pleased with himself for once without appearing to be about to claim credit for solving the murder. “I had a Saturday appointment come in, and while I was working, I heard someone mention Shelby.”

“Shelby who?” Tammy asked.

“That's the thing. The only Shelby I know is my boss's sister. She died a few years ago, so it might have been someone else entirely. But I distinctly heard, ‘I never did understand what Shelby saw in Harvey Sinclair.’ Then there was something about how you never knew what went on behind closed doors.” Ricky shrugged, his expression turning thoughtful. “I got distracted when my client asked me a question, and by the time I could pay attention again, they'd moved on to something else.”

I looked at Tammy, who was frowning as she considered the remark. The name meant nothing to me, and Ricky's uncertainty didn't give us much to work with. If the speaker had been talking about his boss's sister, the comment might have been relevant to Harvey. But Ricky didn't know that was the Shelby they'd meant, and neither did we.

“Do you know who said it?” I asked.

Ricky winced. “No.”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

“Not well enough to identify the person. I was working, Max. I can't exactly turn around and stare at everyone who says something interesting while I'm holding scissors near somebody's ear.”

“That would be a good way to lose customers,” Tammy said.

“Exactly. I have standards.”

“You also have an appointment book,” she pointed out. “You could have checked who was in the chair.”

Ricky looked offended. “I was busy doing my job.”

“You mean you didn't think of it until later.”

“I thought of it after later. Which is still thinking of it.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying not to smile. “So someone mentioned a Shelby in connection with Harvey, but we don't know whether they meant your boss's sister, who said it, or what they actually knew.”

“That's what I said,” Ricky replied. “I’m not claiming I solved anything. I’m just telling you what I heard.”

For once, he sounded entirely serious. Ricky loved gossip, and he enjoyed being the first to hear something new, but he wasn't careless about the things that mattered to his friends. He knew Harvey was dead and that Josiah was trying to establish what had happened and why. If Ricky thought this was worth mentioning, I had to take it seriously enough to pass along, even if it turned out to be nothing.

“Do you remember whether the person said anything else?” I asked. “Anything specific about Shelby or Harvey?”

Ricky shook his head. “No. Just that remark, and something about not knowing what went on behind closed doors. I wish I’d paid more attention, but I can’t pretend I heard more than I did.”

“Then that's all we have,” Tammy said. “We shouldn't make up the rest.”

“I'm not making up anything,” Ricky protested. “For people who keep telling me my board isn't evidence, you're both acting as if I need a lecture on the difference between gossip and facts.”