Rainy Day by John J. Day (great books of all time TXT) 📕

had hung a sign in the basement which read, NOAH LIVES HERE WHEN NOT SAILING. A few large drops of rain began to fall in an irregular pattern and he watched as the occasional drop of rain hit the dead boys face.

Moving closer to the body he began to softly whistle a tune. One of those tunes that everyone recognizes but can never quite identify by title. One of the young patrolman looked at him and asked, “Hey Detective…What’s that song ?”

He smiled his sad, half smile at the Policemen and answered, “ Theme from Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid. You know…..Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head.”

The coppers burst into laughter. Mission accomplished. These young guys would work this crime scene exactly as he would tell them to. They would stand in the rain with him waiting until their job was finished. They would, all together, be Rainy Day People. They would think he was tough and cold, never imagining how much these murders had begun to trouble him. Never knowing how he wanted touch the boys shoulder, shake him lightly and wake him. Tell him everything’s going to be alright. He can go home now.

He thought of his own life, this neighborhood. The friends he had lost to the streets. The friends who didn’t come home from a war. The girl from the neighborhood he had so loved and lost. The difference between him and the boy lying alongside the curb were a couple of lucky breaks. By random chance, taking one fork in the road instead of the other. He took no pleasure in working these cases. There wasn’t much to do.

In a week or so, some kid would get nailed selling dope. Or some other kid would get caught using. Maybe some penny ante thief or junkie would get pinched for shoplifting. Any one of them would be willing to play let’s make a deal. Let me off and I’ll tell you who killed Lil Tony or Hitman or Big G or any one of a dozen or more young boys that had been killed in the last month.

Sooner or later, someone would tell on the one who did this murder on a rainy night.

The heavy drops of rain came and went. Moments of calm in the storm allowed everyone to do their job. He looked at the boys face as the Evidence Tech. took photo’s and the and the droplets of waters that rolled slowly from the kid’s face.

Yet another song crept into his mind. Brook Benton signing A Rainy Night In Georgia. A heart wrenching line went something like, “It’s rainin’ all over the world.” And indeed it certainly seemed that way this night. In the Detectives world at least.

In a few minutes this unfortunate, unlucky boy would be put into a body bag and soon be forgotten. Forgotten and uncared about as all the young boys who die are forgotten. Boys who die in neighborhoods with names like Pilsen, Logan Square or Lawndale. Like the boys who have died in places with names like Viet Nam, Iraq or Afghanistan.

Forgotten, except by guys like the Detective.

As he began walking back to his vehicle, the Detective stopped on the corner and looked at the church. He stared down the boulevard for a moment and thought about getting home tonight and in private, in a small dark room filled with old books and good music he could have a few glasses of good Scotch. But what music to listen to tonight ?

The drops of rain weaved their way from sky to earth and crashed against the pavement with cracking noises and he thought, “Maybe Bring On The Rain or an old favorite like the Jimmie Hendrix classic, Rainy Day, Dream Away.”


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Publication Date: 10-13-2009

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