Free Spring Rain by Gayle Roper Page B

garage, but he couldn’t just ask about Johnny’s kid. Too obvious. So he listened carefully to everything Clooney said because you never knew what might be important. If he had learned anything during his time in the can, it was that knowing your marks was the secret to success.
    He just wished someone had told him that before.
    After several days of talking with Clooney as he dug those stupid little holes in the sand and collected all kinds of worthless junk, he knew more about the whole neighborhood than he wanted to.
    The stuff he’d learned sort of surprised him. He’d always thought that people who lived in pretty houses had pretty lives, unless, of course, you were Mafia. Then you killed each other all the time. But no. Rich guys were as bad off as he was. The guy inthat big house a block over, the one with all the glass, beat his wife, just like his own old man used to beat Ma. At least Ma used to slug back, which is more than the rich lady did. She just drank until she passed out.
    He hadn’t believed Clooney at first. He did now though. He went and checked their trash last night, and it was full of booze bottles. He peered in the windows, amazed that people forgot that windows weren’t just for looking out of. And there was wifey passed out on the sofa with her mouth open and a spilled glass hanging from her hand. An empty bottle sat on the carpet beside her. She had a beautiful shiner and a bruise on her arm where the guy must’ve grabbed her and twisted. He knew that that really hurt.
    He’d sat in the swing on their deck for a long time thinking about what a waste it was to have all that money and be no better off than his pathetic family. When he got the treasure from Leigh-Leigh, he wasn’t going to beat on women or drink himself into a stupor. Well, maybe once in a while for fun, but not always. No way.
    He looked up at the window of the Wharton house again, and he saw them all gathered around the bed. If he was the sick guy and everybody stared at him like that, he’d get the willies.
    With a shudder he turned to the garage. Johnny used to make fun of Leigh-Leigh for living in a garage. Johnny was wrong though. This place was sort of cute. He laughed a little because he used to think that she lived in a garage like where you took your car to be fixed. No matter how hard he tried, he could never figure out where the bedrooms would be.
    But this place was nice, and there was plenty of room for the bedrooms even if they were little. And standing on that itsy-bitsy deck outside her bedroom, you could see all the way to Atlantic City. He liked that. When he had the treasure, he was going to become a high roller and stay in the casinos over there. He smiled at the picture of himself with gorgeous women hanging all over him as he gambled and won. Always in his pictures he won. Always the women loved him.
    He reached for Leigh-Leigh’s front door. It was time to begin.

Six
    S HE WAS SO DOGGONE kind to Ted, Clay thought as he put the empty pie plates in the dishwasher. Feeding him. Making certain he’d taken his medicine. Putting on surgical gloves to protect herself. Smoothing cream on the sores on his mouth. Helping him rinse the sores inside his mouth. She didn’t seem put off at all by his appearance, and frankly, Clay’d seen healthier skeletons last Halloween.
    He watched out of the corner of his eye as she tied a red plastic bag shut and put it in a separate container on the porch. Ted’s contagious waste.
    She came back into the kitchen and leaned against the closed door. She sighed and drew a hand wearily across her forehead. His mother entered the room, and immediately Leigh straightened and went to her.
    “I think he’ll sleep through the night.” Leigh put an arm around her. “He’s very tired.”
    Mom nodded. “I don’t know how many more days he’ll be able to even manage sitting on the deck.”
    “I was wondering that myself.” She grabbed a dirty pie dish and walked it to the