Cicero's Dead Read Free

down below his
name. “Who the hell are you?”
    “I’m a private investigator.” I flipped open
my wallet and showed him my license.
    “You working for Arnold Clipper?”
    “Never heard of him.”
    “You’re lucky.” He stepped back from the door
and motioned me inside.
    The living room was small with hardwood
floors, off-white walls that could stand a coat of paint, and brown trim. The
famous poster of Humphrey Bogart holding the shot glass was framed above his
couch.   Some boxes were stacked in
the corner and I wondered if he was in the process of moving.
    Ron noted my interest in the Bogart poster.
“Bogie was the man.”
    “You got that right.”
    I sat on the couch, and the faint but
unmistakable odor of marijuana drifted down the hall.
    “Hang on,” said Ron, “I’ll be right back.”
    He disappeared, probably to slam down another
lungful from his bong. As I waited, I glanced at the magazines on the solid oak
coffee table that filled most of the space between the door and me. The room
lacked windows and the stuffy, weed-tainted air was probably giving me a
contact high. Ron returned carrying a bong filled with dirty water, a zippo
lighter, and an ashtray. He set everything down on the coffee table, went into
the kitchen and came back out with a straight-backed chair.
    “I was just about to get high when you knocked
on the door. I assume you don’t mind?”
    “You could be smoking seaweed with a
turpentine chaser, and I wouldn’t care.”
    He grunted, sat down, lit up and sucked a huge
hit of designer weed into his lungs. Exhaling, he repeated the performance and
looked at me with satisfaction. “Wanna hit?”
    “Thanks but spliff gets me way wrecked.”
    “More for me,” he grinned. “Sorry I acted like
a jerk just now. I get like that in the morning. I work late and need my beauty
rest.”
    “Me too.”
    He chuckled. “You sure you’re an investigator,
or is this some kind’a screen test?”
    “Do you know Jade Lamont?”
    “Yeah, I know Jade Lamont,” he confirmed
bitterly. “Butterfly girl. That little cooze used to jump my bones like it was
Christmas and she was Mrs. Claus.”
    I laughed. This guy was pretty funny.
    “I was just about to fall in love with her, or
at least fall in love with her money when she dumped me like a fresh laid turd.
I still haven’t gotten over it. Makes you realize how women feel when they get
used.” A flash of sadness darkened his eyes. He shrugged it away and took
another hit.
    “She’s a beauty.”
    The THC was having its desired effect, as he
exhaled smoke propelled words. “You know those butterflies above her breasts?”
    I nodded, recalling the tattoos emblazoned
into her caramel skin.
    “Dude, that’s nothing. She’s got a red cobra
tattooed on one of her hot little ass cheeks and a green mongoose on the other.
Never seen anything like it.”
    “Wow. I’ve missed out. She was very sedate
when I met her.”
    “That’s ‘cause she wanted something other than
your dick. That girl’s gonna be a star one day, if she lives long enough. She
may be the best actor I’ve ever met.”
    “She retained me to find her brother.”
    He raised his eyebrows and suddenly looked
concerned. “Yeah? Huh. If I know Jade, she’s freaking out. They were very
close.”
    “Were?”
    “Things change. You’re aware, of course, that
he has certain proclivities?”
    “I thought there was a possibility.”
    “She didn’t tell you, did she? Ms. Lamont is
very selective when it comes to releasing classified information. She could be
a spook if she didn’t come from a crime family.”
    “I did get the impression that her father may
have been running a little weight on the side.”
    “A little?” he smirked. “I believe it’s called
Persian brown. You mix it up with lemon juice before you slam it. The high’s
supposed to be amazing, but I stay away from that shit.” He shivered, took
another hit off his bong and shook his head as he held in the