Silver Threads

by Bette Lee Crosby

  Eddie had little choice but to humor her. “Okay, but let’s make it quick.”

  Alisha didn’t know the meaning of quick, and when he complained for the third time she said if he didn’t pipe down he could go by himself. After hearing about the microfiche and viewing machine procedure Eddie was reluctant to go it alone, so for the better part of an hour he waited. He tapped his foot and gave an impatient huff every so often; Alisha didn’t pay one bit of attention to either.

  When they finally got to Denny’s the lunch crowd had already settled in, and they had to wait twenty minutes before getting a table. With Alisha having three cups of coffee and a second order of pancakes, they didn’t get to the Clarksburg Library until almost three o’clock. By then Eddie was as edgy as a scalded cat.

  “Let’s get what we came for and get out of here,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You don’t just get it!” she said with an air of annoyance. “We have to have an exact date or search ’til we come across something.”

  Again Eddie gave an exasperated huff. “I thought you said this was easy.”

  “It would be easy if you’d get off my back.”

  She walked over to the desk and asked the librarian to point the way to the Clarksburg Tribune microfiche section.

  “Are you searching for something prior to nineteen-eighty?” the librarian asked.

  “No, more like four or five months ago.”

  “The microfiche files only go up to nineteen-eighty,” the librarian replied. “You can use the online newspaper source for anything more recent than that.”

  “Shit,” Eddie grumbled.

  The librarian glared across at him then turned back to talking with Alisha as if he weren’t there.

  “If you have a library card, you can use any of the computers at the center console.”

  Of course Alisha didn’t have a library card, and it took another twenty minutes for her to fill out the forms and obtain one. The whole time Eddie stood there huffing and puffing like an overheated steam engine.

  It was after four by the time Alisha sat down at the computer and began searching. She typed in “Clarksburg robbery and murder.”

  Five results came back. The first was a listing of crime statistics for Clarke County. It listed everything from bicycle thefts to murder, but it was nothing more than a list of month-by-month numbers. The second was a newspaper article saying that robberies in Clarke County were up by 9 percent over the preceding year. The third article described a father and son murder that took place in 2009.

  The fourth article with the headline “Innocent Bystander Killed” told about the attempted robbery of Dunninger’s Drugstore. Two faces flashed on the screen. Eddie recognized his brother even though his name was not mentioned in the article. Sitting side by side with Alisha he read a little over two paragraphs about what happened that day, but in the middle of a sentence it stopped and a window popped up saying for the full context of the article the viewer would need to log in with their subscription number. Beneath the message were two boxes. The first was to log in, the second was to subscribe.

  “I don’t have a subscription,” Alisha said.

  “Get one,” Eddie replied.

  “No. It’s forty-eight bucks. I don’t even read this dumb-ass newspaper.”

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  She just sat there, looking at the screen and doing nothing.

  “Get it,” he said. “Forty-eight bucks is nothing compared to the money Tom’s got set aside.”

  She turned and looked him square in the eye. “How can I be sure there even is any money? For all I know this could be—”

  “There’s money,” Eddie said, “big money, and if you ain’t willing to help…”

  He left the remainder of that thought hanging in the air, a carrot for her to chase.

  “If I put this on my credit card, you gonna pay me back today?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just hurry it up.”

  After she subscribed to the newspaper she didn’t want nine more articles came up, eight about the robbery and one about Albert Dunninger’s sudden death. Eddie was in the process of reading through them when the librarian breezed by and said the library would be closing in ten minutes.

  “Quick, print everything,” he told Alisha.

  “That’s another nine bucks!”

  Eddie smacked his hand to his forehead.

  “I don’t know what Tom saw in a dumb dame like you. I’m talking about big money, and you’re yanking my chain over nine measly bucks. I already said I’d pay you back.”

  Alisha gave a disgruntled snort and hit Print.

  Less than five minutes later they picked up the printed pages at the front desk, paid for them and left the library. As Eddie pulled away from the parking lot, Alisha read the printed pages aloud. The first story told about the events of the day, called Tom an as-yet-unidentified gunman and referred to the incident as a bungled robbery.

  Bungled? Tom? Not likely. Now more than ever Eddie was certain there was something more. Something still unsaid. A hidden truth to the events of that day.

  On the drive back to the motel he listened as Alisha read through page after page of articles retelling the same story. One article included an interview with Albert Dunninger, the pharmacist who’d shot Tom. It quoted Dunninger as saying, “I’m no hero. If it wasn’t for Jennifer Bishop distracting the gunman I might be dead, and he would have walked away with whatever was in the register.”

  That thought got stuck in Eddie’s head, and he couldn’t shake it loose.

  Tom always preached no violence, so why would he start shooting? The woman must have threatened him. That had to be it. She was the cause of what happened. If not for her Tom would be alive.

  He was deep in his own thoughts and barely listening when Alisha read how according to the police report, Tom shot first and Dunninger fired after the gunman shot Jennifer Bishop.

  After she’d read through each of the articles Alisha said, “I don’t see how you’re gonna find any money from this crap. There’s nothing much here.”

  “I’ll find it,” Eddie said. “I just gotta study them stories a bit more.”

  “Fine. You can study them tonight, ’cause I gotta go home and get dressed for work.”

  “Work?”

  “Yeah, I gotta work for a living. You know, just in case this big payday you’re promising don’t come through.”

  “What time you get done?”

  “The bar don’t close ’til one, so maybe one-thirty, two.”

  Eddie turned into the motel parking, circled around to the back and pulled up next to Alisha’s Pontiac. “How about you come back here later tonight?”

  She slid him a sideways look and scrunched her nose. “No, thanks. This place is a dump.” She popped the car door open then looked back and grinned. “But you can come by my place if you want.”

  When Eddie gave an eager nod, she rattled off the address and told him the key was under the mat.

  “Maybe by the time I get home, you’ll have figured out where that big payday is hiding.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Eddie replied.

  Once he was back in the room, Eddie took the articles and started going through them word by word. For nearly two hours he sat there reading the same eight pages over and over again. He tried to picture the events of that day, but the image of it just wouldn’t come. He had bits and pieces of information, but nothing fit. As he studied each word, looking for another meaning, a truth he’d missed the time before, Eddie felt a great weight settle in his heart.

  For three years he’d sat in that prison cell, and the thing he’d held on to was the thought of him and Tom being together again. That was how it was supposed to be. Twins, each one a half of the other, only now one half was gone. Eddie felt the ache of it the way one feels the phantom pain of a missing leg or arm. Losing Tom was an injustice far greater than Cassidy’s betrayal.

  After a long while Eddie decided the truth of what ha
ppened couldn’t be found in these papers. The truth was back there in the store where Tom was killed.

  He folded the printed pages, slid them into his back pocket and headed out to his car. It was only eight-thirty; Dunninger’s Drugstore would still be open.

  When Eddie parked in back of the store he could already feel the pull of Tom trying to tell him something. He was almost certain of it. He pushed through the front door then stood there for several moments letting the feel of the place settle in.

  Peter McIntyre was behind the counter.

  “Can I help you with something?” he called out.

  The sound of a voice interrupted Eddie’s thoughts and startled him. After a few moments he remembered the pounding in his head and said, “Tylenol. I need a bottle of Tylenol.”

  “Aisle two,” Peter called back. “Want me to get it for you?”

  Eddie shook his head. “I’m okay.”

  He walked slowly down the first aisle and across to the next. Here he could feel Tom. He could picture him dead, lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Now it was more than just words; it was the actual ripping away of one twin from the other. He listened for Tom’s voice knowing that in time it would come to him.

  He plucked a bottle of Tylenol from the shelf and walked to the back counter.

  Peter’s days of working behind the counter were long and monotonous. He welcomed the diversion of talking to customers. He smiled and asked if Eddie was new in town.

  “Just visiting,” Eddie replied then in turn he asked if Peter was a Dunninger.

  Peter shook his head. “No relation. I bought the store from his lawyer. Mister Dunninger died shortly after that terrible incident they had in here.”

  “Incident?” Eddie replied as if he’d never heard of it.

  Happy to have someone to chat with, Peter retold the story as he’d heard it.

  “Two people were killed, the gunman and a woman from the neighborhood.”

  “From the neighborhood?”

  Peter nodded. “Jennifer Bishop. Her husband was in here a few months ago. Luckily, him and their little girl are getting along okay.”

  It didn’t take much to keep Peter talking, and before Eddie left he knew that Drew was a successful salesman for a printing firm, had a good-sized house over on Greenhaven Drive and an eight-year-old daughter. He also knew Tom wanted revenge.

  Eddie had heard his brother’s voice—not clearly, but clearly enough to know he had to do something.

  The Dog

  Despite his misgivings about adding something else that could conceivably be another disruption to his workday, Drew agreed to get a dog. He told Brooke that on Saturday they would go to the Clarke County Animal Shelter and find a puppy that needed a home.

  Brooke’s eyes lit up. “Like Buddy.”

  “Well, not exactly like Buddy, because Buddy’s real name was Rocky and he had a home.”

  Without acknowledging that fact Brooke started listing the things they would need: toys, a food bowl, a leash, a collar.

  “Buddy won’t need a bed,” she said. “He can sleep with me.”

  In the beginning Drew hoped that by putting it off until Saturday there might be a chance Brooke would forget about the dog and move on to something else, but she didn’t. She talked about it from morning until night. Several times a day she would peer into the kitchen and listen long enough to know he was not on a phone call. Then she’d come charging into the room with another new thought or question.

  On Wednesday it was a desperate need to go to the library and get a book on dog training.

  “Can’t you wait until you actually have the dog?” Drew asked.

  “No,” she insisted. “I need it now!”

  Marta, who’d breezed in with a tuna casserole, heard the request and volunteered to take Brooke.

  Knowing how skittish his daughter had become about going anywhere with anyone but him, Drew looked over to her and asked, “Do you want Marta to take you?”

  Without any hesitation, she nodded.

  As he watched her trot off hand in hand with Marta, Drew thought maybe getting the dog wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  ~ ~ ~

  The sky was just starting to turn light when Drew felt her small hand push against his shoulder.

  “Daddy, it’s Saturday.”

  “Already?” He peeked at the bedside clock. “It’s not seven o’clock yet. The shelter doesn’t open until nine-thirty. Go back to sleep for a little while.”

  “I’m too excited to sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  Drew swung his legs to the floor, and when his eyes were fully open he noticed the smile on Brooke’s face. This was the happiest she’d been in months, and he couldn’t help but be happy for her.

  When the Clarke County Animal Shelter attendant arrived, Brooke was waiting at the door.

  The silver-haired woman laughed. “You must be very anxious to adopt a pet. Dog or cat?”

  “A white puppy,” Brooke answered. “I’m going to name him Buddy.”

  The woman unlocked the door, and they followed her into the reception area.

  “I don’t think we have any white puppies right now,” she said. “How about a cute little gray schnauzer?”

  Brooke didn’t answer; she just stood there with her lower lip quivering. The woman noticed.

  “On second thought, let me check in the back. While I’m looking would you mind playing with one of the other pups? They get awfully homesick being away from their mama.”

  “Okay,” Brooke said in a small voice.

  “Wait here, I’ll get one.”

  The woman disappeared into the back and returned with a squirming ball of light tan fur. She led the father and daughter to a side room with glass windows and a bench seat.

  “You can play with her in here while I go look for that white puppy, okay?”

  “Okay,” Brooke said as she nodded. “What’s her name?”

  The woman feigned a look of sadness. “She doesn’t have one yet. She’s an orphan puppy who came in yesterday.”

  She started to leave and then turned back as if she’d had an afterthought.

  “If you want to give her a name while you’re playing, that would be very nice.”

  “Okay,” Brooke said again, but this time a smile lit her face.

  It was all Drew could do to hold back the grin playing at the corners of his mouth. In an odd way this woman reminded him of Jennifer; not in appearance, but in the clever way she turned a potential problem into a satisfying solution. He knew that by the time she returned to the room, his daughter would have given the puppy a name and her heart as well.

  As the woman turned to leave he mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  Brooke sat on the floor and the dog wriggled itself into her lap.

  “I think he likes me,” she said with a grin.

  “He’s a she,” Drew replied. “This is a girl puppy.”

  “A girl?”

  Drew nodded. “You might want to think up another name. Buddy doesn’t work so well for a girl, does it?”

  Brooke wrinkled her nose and shook her head. She hesitated a second or two then looked up with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I’m going to name her Lucy,” she said definitively.

  “Why Lucy?”

  “Because when Mama was a little girl she had a brown dog named Lucy.”

  Brooke leaned down with her face close to the dog’s snout. “Little puppy, would you like to be named Lucy?”

  The pup licked her face, and Brooke squealed with delight. “Daddy, she really, really likes her name!”

  “I think maybe she likes you playing with her,” he said.

  A good twenty minutes passed before the woman came back to the room.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” she said, “but I’ve looked all over the back room and we don’t have a white puppy right now.” Although there was obviously no need for it, she volunteered to take an order and call Brooke when one came in.<
br />
  “No, thank you,” Brooke said, sounding very grown up. “I’ve decided to take Lucy.”

  “Lucy?” the woman echoed. “So that’s what you’ve named her?”

  “Yes. And she really likes her name. When I say it she kisses me. Watch. Lucy!”

  Brooke again tilted her face to the dog and was again covered in doggie kisses.

  On the way home they stopped at the pet shop and bought a pink rhinestone collar, a pink leash and two pink bowls, plus all the other things Brooke had on her list. As they browsed through the treats aisle, she lifted Lucy into her arms and held her up to sniff the selection.

  That afternoon instead of sitting on the front steps like a lost soul, Brooke walked Lucy up and down the street. With the kitchen window open Drew could hear her issuing commands such as “heel” and “stay.” He peeked out the window and watched her tugging at the leash as the puppy scrambled from one lawn to another.

  How was it, he wondered, that he never knew Jennifer once had a dog named Lucy? He didn’t even recall her ever suggesting they get a dog. There was that one time when she’d picked up a stray in the park, but that was back when they were living in the apartment building. It was a third floor walk-up smaller than a broom closet. She’d hinted at keeping the dog but never really said she wanted to.

  A sad thought picked at Drew’s mind.

  Brooke was closer to Jennifer than I was. She would have known Jennifer wanted to keep the dog.

  He gave a sigh that was weighted with regret then returned to his laptop and finished the e-mail he’d been working on.

  An Unfair Life

  After he left the drugstore, Eddie couldn’t get Tom’s voice out of his mind. It was trying to tell him something, but what? Knowing the way Tom didn’t take any bullshit from anybody, Eddie had to believe it was something about the people responsible for his murder.

  Drew Bishop’s address wasn’t hard to find. Neither was the one for Albert Dunninger. Both were listed in the phone book. Dunninger’s house was closer to the store, so Eddie went there first.