Selling My Books on the Streets of brooklyn 6/7 - Rain

Rain-out Theater presents an excerpt from Vic Fortezza’s unpublished, near 200,000 word rock n roll epic, Rising Star. Each chapter begins with a quote from a song. The artist will be revealed below. 50 lashes with a wet .45 for those who fail to recognize it.
42         "...This is the mystery of the quotient/Upon us all a little rain must fall...."*

   Tears were streaming from Laura's eyes as she hung up the phone. She was confused, unsure of herself. She was roused by the playful gasps of her son, who began whimpering as he noted her distress. The dog barked angrily.
   Traffic was heavy this sunny, mid-April afternoon. Convertibles had taken to the road. Teenagers were laughing, smiling, idling at corners. Laura drove as fast as she could. She hit a snag at the Verrazano Bridge. Little Sal cried the entire way.
   "Shut up, shut up," said Laura, which simply frightened the child into more wails.
   She prayed her mother in law was home and cursed herself for not having called before she'd left. She dreaded the thought of leaving the baby with his great grandparents, who were too old to care for him properly. She would not ask Teresa to mind him.
   To her relief, Mrs. DeSalvo was home. She quickly explained the situation and left, ignoring her son's wails. She found a police car and ambulance before the building. She parked behind them. There was a crowd at the entrance. She lowered her head as she passed, wondering what course her mother had chosen: sleeping pills, razor, gas?
   Teresa was waiting in the hall. They went up the stairs together.
   "What is it? What happened? What'd she do to 'erself?"
   Teresa shrugged. "She musta fell. My mother sent me down to borrow some sugar an' I...."
   There was a dark, heavy set man of medium height on the landing. He broke from the conversation he was having with a uniformed officer, raised an eyebrow as he noted Laura's pregnancy.
   "Miss Camara?"
   "Mrs. DeSalvo," she said nervously, nodding.
   "I'm the one who spoke to you on the phone. Your mother had a terrible accident. She fell against the coffee table. It broke and she was impaled on a chunk of glass. She bled to death. I'm sorry. There's no easy way to say these things. We need somebody to identify the body. If you want, we'll get somebody else."
   Her face paled. "She has nobody else."
   She was certain no one in her mother's family would come forward. She wanted no part of them, anyway. She prayed the body wasn't her mother's. If it wasn‘t, wouldn't Teresa have told them? She hoped her mother had allowed a friend to use the apartment, as in the past.
   "Let me warn you ahead of time -- it's very bloody."
   She followed the detective into the apartment that'd been her home for many years. It had assumed a carnival atmosphere, as the investigating team was doing its work. The shards, which varied in size, were stained with blood. There was a large red pool on the blue rug. The blanket beside it formed a mound. Nearby there was a half-filled bottle of scotch. Trembling, Laura braced herself. The detective nodded and a uniformed officer pulled the blanket back so that only the face, which lay in profile, eyes closed, showed.
   "Is this your mother, Mrs. DeSalvo?"
   Eyes wide, Laura nodded, then reeled and fell to the floor.
Led Zeppelin, The Rain Song.
   At least the car is being washed by the deluge.

Vic's 4th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/bszwlxh

Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3