Hard Rain Falling by Don Carpenter Read Free Book Online Page A

wall-to-wall carpeting in most of the downstairs, and one very large, extremely beautiful blue Persian carpet in the living room, its border ornate designs in white, maroon, gold, and blue. The boys stood in the middle of this carpet, looking around themselves at the most splendid home they had ever seen outside the movies. Jack noticed that most of the windows in the house had the thick double-draperies that could be used in blackouts, and so he pulled them and turned the lights on. There was a large fireplace, and over it a mantel adorned with small delicate glass figurines of animals; and above that there was a picture—an oil painting—of an attractive, pleasant-looking woman in a white dress with a blue sash. The picture had its own little light above it, which went on with the wall lights when Jack flicked the switch. (The switch bothered him; it made no sound, no
click
, but the lights went on anyway.)
    “My God,” Jack said.
    “What’d I tell you?” Denny said proudly. “Aint it a mansion? We ate lunch up in his room. He’s got a room all to himself up there, with his own desk, and all kinds of crap all over the walls. He must be a lonely fucker, er why would he come down to the poolhall?”
    For a while they forgot all about their purpose in breaking into the house, and explored.
    “Holy cats,” Jack said. “Did you see this
shower?
One sprayer up on top,
four
on the sides. Man, they must stand in there and just plain go out of their minds. An the control aint two handles, it’s one that goes from cold to hot.”
    The master bedroom was on the main floor and in the center was a large double bed, with gilt posts and a white headboard. All the furniture in the bedroom matched and there were sets of pictures on the wall. On the bed was a coverlet of gold satin, and Jack could not resist throwing himself onto the bed. “Man!” was all he could say. He lay on his back and looked up at the crystal light fixture in the ceiling.
    Denny began at last to go through the drawers in the high bureau. “This guy must have fifty pairs of socks,” he commented. In one top drawer he found cuff links, an old worn gold ring (which Denny pocketed), and assorted trinkets, but no cash. Jack got up and helped him, going through the woman’s vanity table. Then both of them examined the suits in the man’s closet, finding only ticket stubs and a few pennies.
    “Where’s that bar?” Jack wanted to know. “Maybe there’s some booze. I could use a drink.”
    “It’s in the basement. Let’s go.”
    The party room had a red tile floor, a fireplace (
another
one! Jack thought with amazement), brightly colored cushions on metal furniture, and a polished wood bar at one end, with three leatherette-capped stools. Jack sat at the bar and Denny went around behind. There were several bottles of liquor visible on the backbar, and Denny discovered a small refrigerator, which proved to be about half-full of bottled beer. Denny held up one of the glistening bottles and said, “Lookie. West Coast brand. What fuggin cheapskates. What’ll it be?”
    “A boilermaker, my good man.”
    “Lessee,” said Denny, examining the bottles on the backbar; “do you want Scotch, bourbon, rye, or maybe gin?”
    Jack giggled. “Make it Scotch and rye. I ain’t never had either.”
    Denny took two pilsner glasses, put them on the bar, half filled them with a mixture of whiskies, and then added beer from one of the bottles, which he then tipped up and drained. He and Jack tapped their glasses together and drank.
    “Whew. Jesus H. Christ!” Denny said after a moment.
    Jack grinned at him expectantly. “Let’s have some more.”
    “You know, this has been a hell of a night, man. We get laid, race all around hell in a Caddie, an here we are drinkin expensive booze. Do you reckon this is how the rich folks live?”
    “If we only had some money,” Jack said. “I wonder where they keep the spare cash.”
    “Have a nother drink, baby.”
    “I