“It does. Better to come back and get more if you’re not going to use it right away,” he advised. “Next aisle over there’s hardware for hanging pictures. You should find what you’re looking for next to the electrical section.”
Maggie nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to be Bob Silva, would you?”
The man smiled. “At your service. Why do you ask?”
“Gussie said you owned the store, and were very helpful. She said to ask for you if I couldn’t find what I was looking for.”
Flattery never failed. Bob Silva beamed. “Pleased she said that. I try to meet the needs of the people of Winslow. It’s a challenge, you know, to run a small business these days, when you’re competing with all those big-box stores. Customer service is what separates us from those places.” The man was practically preening. “And you are?”
“Maggie Summer. Here for the wedding.”
“This next Saturday, isn’t it? Nice Gussie and Jim are finally tying the knot. They’re good folks.”
Maggie looked past the man toward the front of the store. Hanging from the ceiling were sports uniform shirts printed with WINSLOW HARDWARE and player numbers. She took a chance.
“She also told me you do a lot for the community. You work with young people in town. Your store supports some of the teams?” She pointed at the shirts.
“We do. It’s a community thing. I sponsor a Little League team, and a bowling team. And I donate money for uniforms for one of the kids’ baseball teams.” His smile was fading. “Done it for years. Builds good will.”
“I’m sorry. She also told me your son died recently. I’ve reminded you, haven’t I? How stupid of me. He played baseball, didn’t he?”
Silva nodded. “He wasn’t a great player, but he was getting better. He was working at it. A lot of kids need time to mature, you know.”
“It must be hard for you.”
“It’s been a rotten year,” Silva acknowledged. “No one who hasn’t lost a kid can know what it’s like. Do you have children, Ms. Summer?”
“Not yet.”
“They’ll tear your heart out,” said Silva. “They’ll fill your heart and make it feel as big as the moon, then they’ll break it into little pieces. But my Tony, he was a good boy. Never got in any trouble. Worked hard. No genius at the books, you understand, but got pretty decent grades. And was getting better at sports. He had asthma so it was harder for him than it was for some of the other boys. He had to train a little more. Boys, they mature at different times.”
“You sound as though you know a lot about sports, Mr. Silva.”
“I was pretty good myself, when I was younger. Made all-state as a first baseman. Even got the attention of some scouts. Thought I might even make it to the majors. Then I busted my leg in a stupid car crash. My left leg was never the same. None of the teams were interested in me after that.”
“You must have been very disappointed.”
“Oh, yeah. Still think about what might have been. But that was a long time ago. I’d hoped Tony would’ve had the chance I never had. But someone gave him a few little pills, and—bang! His life is over. And no one’s on the hook for it, neither. Burns me up, I can tell you!”
Bob Silva’s face was getting redder.
“They never found out how he got the drugs?”
“The police wimped out, if you ask me. I gave ’em my ideas, and the boys on Tony’s team told ’em what they knew. Police never followed up. No one was ever arrested. Ike Irons said he was doin’ what he could. He knew Tony; even trusted him to baby-sit his own kids, for Christ’s sake! And even with that, no one did one day of time for my boy’s death. Not one day.”
“Tony baby-sat for Chief Irons?”
“A couple of times. That same spring. He and his wife, Annie, like to go out for a nice dinner. They’d put their kids to bed and Tony’d go over and do his homework at their place, so there’d be someone in the house, you know? In case one of the kids woke up. We only lived a couple of houses away. Ike would never have asked him to sit if he hadn’t trusted Tony; if he hadn’t thought he was a good kid, would he?”
“I wouldn’t think so. So you never had any proof of where Tony got the drugs?”
“Not exactly proof. But I had a feeling. A gut thing, you know? There was this guy in town used to hang around when the kids were playing baseball. No one knew him too well. Everyone else was just regular. The same folks been here for years. It couldn’t be any of them. So I figured, it was this new guy. What was he in Winslow for, anyway? He didn’t seem to have, you know, a purpose to be here.”
“So did you talk to him?”
“Oh, yeah. I talked to him. ’Course, he said he had nothing to do with it. Said he had a kid of his own. He wouldn’t hurt any kid.” Bob shook his head. “I didn’t believe him. I’d had a few drinks. I popped him a couple. I probably shouldn’t of. But I’ve been so damn frustrated about this! Wouldn’t you be?” Bob Silva’s eyes glazed over with tears. “I heard the guy’s dead now, so I’ll never know if it was him. What if one day your kid came home and just swallowed a handful of heavy-duty pills. Wouldn’t you want to know where they came from?”
Maggie reached out and touched his arm. “Yes. I’d want to know, too. Thank you for telling me. I’ll get those picture hangers now.” She went to the next aisle, leaving Bob Silva a little privacy, and his memories.
Maggie wasn’t convinced. Had Bob Silva killed Dan Jeffrey? Jeffrey’s death left Silva with too many unanswered questions.
After dinner that night Gussie smiled and announced, “You’ll never guess. I’ve decided to do something for the wedding that Lily suggested.”
Jim actually put down the snifter of brandy he’d been savoring. “Did she call again? I thought we had everything worked out about the guests.”
“No, this is something else entirely.” Gussie looked at them both. “I’ve been thinking. I know this is Lily’s first wedding as a mother of the groom. I’ll admit, she’s reminded me of it often enough. But maybe I’ve been underestimating how important that was. So, I’ve decided to wear the family veil Lily sent. It is beautiful.”
“Gussie, are you sure?” Jim asked. “I want you to do what’s right for you. Not just something for my mother.”
She put up her hand to stop him. “I want to. I’ll have to fold it, because I don’t want it to get caught in the wheels of the scooter. We sent the dress back, but I kept the veil to give to Lily myself so it wouldn’t be damaged. Last night I tried it on. And I think it’ll work. I can pin it to the top of my hair so it’ll be secure. And the soft cream of the old lace will look lovely with my yellow dress. So the veil will be my ‘something old,’ from your family, and the dress will be ‘something new.’” She turned to Maggie. “Do you have something I could borrow?”
Maggie smiled. “You’re ahead of me! I was going to give it to you, but if you need it to be borrowed…” She reached into her canvas tote and pulled out a small crimson silk bag and handed it to Gussie.
Jim leaned over. “What is it? I thought I was in charge of jewelry for the big day.”
“It’s not jewelry,” said Maggie.
Gussie opened the bag and emptied it onto the table. “Oh, I don’t believe it! You’re wonderful, Maggie. And I do want it to be borrowed. Because then you can have it back to use at your wedding someday, too!”
“Okay, ladies. Explain what’s so special about that coin,” said Jim.
Gussie handed it to him. “The full saying is ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence for your shoe.’ It’s a sixpence, Jim. They aren’t minted any longer, so in a lot of ways they’re antiques. Brides put them in their shoes during the wedding ceremony for good luck.”
He looked over the coin and handed it back to Gussie. “That’s a new one to me. Won’t it be uncomfortable?”