Page 79 of Dead Men Tell No Shells

Joann's voice caught on the last word. She paused, swallowing before she went on, but when she spoke again, she was louder still.

“He took our money and used it to make himself richer. He kept the profits and left us with nothing. Shelby was heartbroken when he dumped her. She kept trying to understand what she'd done wrong, and I had to sit there and watch her blame herself for trusting the man who'd deceived her.”

I remained silent. She wasn't answering questions, because I hadn't asked any. She was talking because something in her had finally broken loose, and I wasn't going to encourage her or try to stop her unless I needed to protect her or someone else.

She lifted her eyes to mine, and I saw years of anger and grief in them.

“I knew what he'd done. I knew he'd lied to her, and I knew he'd used her. But I didn't tell her everything. She was already hurting so badly that I couldn't bear to make it worse. I thought I was protecting her by keeping quiet.”

She pressed her lips together, but the words seemed to be coming faster now.

“Then she died, and I couldn't tell her anything. After that, I kept quiet because I didn't want the whole town talking about her as though she'd been nothing but a man's mistress. Very few people knew about the affair. I thought it was better to let her be remembered for the person she'd been, not for the way Harvey had treated her.”

Her voice had risen enough that I could hear people moving outside the office. I turned my head slightly and saw the customer who'd been holding her phone near the doorway lower it. She glanced at the screen, then at Joann, before taking a seat in the waiting area again. She might have thought the most startling part of the confession was over.

She was mistaken.

Joann rubbed a hand over her face, her breathing uneven.

“When Harvey gave me the check, he said he was repaying the money he'd taken from Shelby. He made it out to me, but he treated it as though I were merely the person who could pass it along or settle something on her behalf. He didn't acknowledge that the money had belonged to both of us.”

Her voice hardened, carrying beyond the office.

“Fifteen thousand dollars. He called it repayment, with interest, as if that made it fair. It was nowhere near what our share of the profits should have been. And no amount of money could give Shelby back the years she'd spent believing she'd been the problem, or undo what he'd done to her.”

I could hear the customers in the main salon falling quiet. Joann either didn't notice or no longer cared. Her voice was higher and louder than it had been when she'd first spoken, and every sentence seemed to release another that had been waiting behind it.

She looked at me again.

“He said he wrote the check to me for Shelby. As if she was the only one he'd cheated. That money belonged to both of us. We'd saved it together, and he knew that. He knew she'd never have handed it over if he hadn't made her believe every sweet word he told her.”

She looked toward the office door. Beyond it, someone murmured a question, followed by a sudden hush. The customers who weren't beneath the dryers had little chance of missing what she was saying now. Even those who hadn't heard her first admission were listening. The two women beneath the dryers might have missed most of it, but I had little doubt someone would fill them in as soon as they could get up.

“I opened this place because I wanted him to see me,” she continued. “I wanted him to remember what he'd done. Shelby had been gone for years as we'd both moved to Baltimore, and everyone else had moved on. Harvey could walk around town as though he'd never hurt anyone, as though all his money and his position made him untouchable. I couldn't stand the thought of him getting away with it completely.”

She drew a breath, and her voice climbed again, sharper now, carrying through the doorway and into the salon.

“So when she died, and I got the insurance and a small loan, I came here. I opened this salon where he would have to see me. Every day, if he wanted to go anywhere in town, there I was. I wanted him to remember. I wanted him to know that someone still knew what he'd done, even if everyone else had forgotten.”

That was when I heard movement approaching from the front of the salon and a deep male voice greeting the ladies. Deputy Collins had arrived. I stepped toward the doorway to meet him, keeping Joann in front of me with her hands cuffed behind her back. Her voice followed me as I moved, higher and louder than before, spilling into the salon where everyone seemed to have stopped whatever they were doing.

“I wanted him to remember Shelby! I wanted him to remember what he'd done to both of us! He took our money, he lied to her, dumped her like she was trash, and then he carried on as though none of it had ever happened!”

Collins took in the scene beyond the doorway, then looked at me. I kept my voice low as I explained that Joann was under arrest, that I'd advised her of her rights, and that she'd made spontaneous statements before and after the arrest. I told him not to question her during transport and to document anything further she volunteered without prompting.

Collins nodded. I moved aside to let him take charge of the transport arrangements, keeping Joann in front of me as he approached. She was still talking, her voice cracking as she repeated parts of what she'd already said. The customers moved aside to let them pass. No one tried to stop them, although several people watched with wide eyes. The woman with the phone had put it down, but she was listening just as intently as everyone else.

I stayed behind long enough to make sure the situation in the salon was under control. The customers had every right to be shaken by what they'd just heard, but I needed to keep the scene orderly and establish who had witnessed the confession.

“I'm going to need the names and contact information of anyone who heard what happened in the office,” I told the customers nearest the doorway. “If anyone recorded any part of the conversation, please preserve the original recording and don't edit or delete it. I'll need to arrange to obtain a copy.”

The woman who'd been holding her phone lowered it again, looking slightly embarrassed.

“I recorded some of it,” she said. “I wasn't trying to interfere. I heard her say she hadn't meant to kill him, and I thought - well, I didn't know what to think.”

“You did the right thing by letting me know. I'll take your details, and someone will follow up with you about the recording.”

I collected the information from her and the other customers who had been close enough to hear Joann's confession. I noted where each person had been standing and what they said they'd heard, keeping their individual accounts separate. I also made a record of which details each person had heard directly from Joann and which they might have picked up from the others afterward.