Free Cicero's Dead by Patrick H. Moore

they
sniffed us eagerly. Bobby keeps a spare key under a rock in a weed patch that
might once have been a garden. I retrieved it, unlocked the door, and we
stepped inside. Jade’s eyes swept from the big flat screen, to the unadorned
walls, to the stacks of magazines.
    “Bobby stays abreast of the news. A lot of Nam
vets are that way. Anyway, sit down and make yourself at home.”
    Jade hesitated, then sat on a tattered
southwestern blanket that was stretched across Bobby’s sofa. Sitting back, she
tugged at her skirt and crossed her legs.
    “I know this all comes as a shock, but your life
has taken a turn that no one could have predicted.”
    She sighed and sucked in her bottom lip that was
beginning to tremble. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
    “No worries, Jade.” She nodded. I shifted to face
her more directly. “This is what we know, and I don’t mean to sound harsh or
blunt.”
    “It’s okay,” she said quietly.
    “What’s become clear is that your dad wasn’t
killed in a hit-and-run. A Dr. Tarkanian, out of Glendale, signed his death
certificate -- heart attack, supposedly in his own bed. Those fake cops might
be in with Arnold Clipper, but that’s speculation. They could be working for
somebody else, or they could be working alone.”
    “Christ, what a mess.”
    “Even though Arnold’s put pressure on Ron to set
you up, it still doesn’t mean they’re connected to him.”
    “Maybe they’ve hurt Richard.” Tears were beginning
to fill her eyes.
    “I dunno, but I doubt it, not with Arnold
protecting him.”
    Right there in Bobby Moore’s weird-ass living
room, the dam broke and tears streamed down her face. I don’t like watching
people cry; it kills me when Maleah occasionally wails, but it’s even worse
when adults are doing the weeping. Maybe she’d been holding it all in for too
long, or maybe the time had just come for release but she wept, at first
quietly, and then with an intensity that scared me. Audrey thinks I’m
cold-hearted but actually I’m not. I put my arms around her and trying to
comfort her, stroked her smooth, thick hair. How absurd it all is; wealth and
power delude the world and, worse, deceive those that possess them.
    Jade began to regain control. Reluctantly, I
pulled myself away, went into the kitchen and again stared in disbelief at the
$100,000 check Halladay had given me. I shook myself loose and placed it in my
wallet. I took two Bud Lites out of the refrigerator, grabbed a glass for Jade,
unscrewed the cap and took a long, welcome swallow. She was visibly embarrassed
over her breakdown, and barely glanced at me as she filled her glass, and drank
it like a veteran in four or five long swallows.
    Bobby and Brad arrived at 7:30 carrying Chinese
take-out. Five minutes later, Audrey who loves to shop and had made the most of
this opportunity, arrived. I helped her carry several bags into the house.
    I watched them eat fried rice and chickenl’orange. “We’ll go over everything
first thing in the morning, and as of right now, everybody’s on payroll.”
    “I don’t want your money,” said Bobby. “I want
your wife.”
    “I’ll take either,” added Brad.
    I turned to Audrey. “Could you drive Brad and me
back to Whittier?”
    “Why not? I’m already about seven hours late.”
    At 8:15, we trotted in as Cassady was putting the
finishing touches on some salmon steaks. Maleah was playing on the computer and
talking on the phone. I was damned glad to be home.
    Immediately after dinner, Brad, who was exhausted,
went down to the guest room.   After
Cassady and I put Maleah to bed, we went into our room. Cassady usually sleeps
nude, but tonight she put on a lacy negligee with a scooped neckline. As soon
as I got into bed, she grabbed me and pinned me down.
    “How come you smell like perfume?”
    “Don’t ask.”
    She slapped me hard across the face and then made
love to me. When I met Cassady, 22 years ago, I thought she was the hottest
woman in the