TWO
Lenny decided the best place to
start the investigation was at Janson’s place. Specifically, the neighbors.
Janson might have thought they hadn’t seen anything, but Lenny figured it
couldn’t hurt to double-check. He parked his Dodge Ram in front of Janson’s
place, ending the Destruction album
he was playing when he turned off the
ignition. He left his car and knocked on the door of Janson’s left door
neighbor. The blinds in front of the window told him this was probably the
pot-smoker’s place.
There was no answer. He decided
to knock a little bit harder. Still nothing. Of course, you don’t earn a living
as a private eye if you’re detained by such a little thing. He walked over to
the window and banged on that.
The door opened. A lanky, pimply
kid with a mullet and a Kyuss T-shirt opened the door. Lenny had to admit he
approved of the kid’s taste in bands. He wasn’t sure about the mullet though.
“What the fuck man? You startled
the living shit out of me, dude!”
“Sorry about that. I really want
to talk to you,” Lenny said, holding up his hands apogolepticaly.
The kid squinted. “About what?”
“Your neighbor’s dog.”
“What about that stupid mutt?”
“It’s missing. And dear to your
neighbor.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Maybe we can talk about this
inside?” Lenny suggested.
“Well, you sure as fuck don’t
look like a narc. Come the fuck inside. Nice battle jacket, by the way.”
“Thanks. Sowed it myself,” Lenny
beamed.
“Good for you.”
Lenny followed the kid inside his
home. “What’s your name?”
“Cliff.”
“Lenny.”
Cliff’s place reeked of
marihuana. It was also very dark inside, the only light coming from a weak
table-lamp. The floor was littered with pizza boxes and empty cans of beer.
Lenny recognized the band playing on the kid’s stereo as Monolord. Fine riffage.
Cliff dropped down on a ratty
chair and pointed to an old crate for Lenny to sit on. Lenny slowly lowered his
ass, not sure the crate would hold his considerable weight. It creaked, but
didn’t break.
Cliff lit a joint. “You want a
hit, dude?”
“No, thanks. Haven’t smoked one
since high school.”
“Shit, really? Can’t miss it,
dude. Not that I’m hooked or something, you know? I just like the fucking way
it makes me feel. A beer then?”
“I’m fine, thanks. So, can you please tell me if you saw how Mr.
Janson’s dog got out of his yard two weeks ago?”
“How the fuck should I know? It’s
not like I sit staring at his yard, you know. Good fucking riddance too, that
dog. Sometimes that fucking creature barks so loud I can’t even hear my tunes.”
Cliff blew a huge amount of smoke to the ceiling. It was as yellow as egg yolk.
“Come on, Cliff… That animal
means a lot to the old man. Don’t be a dick. Anything you saw or heard might
help.”
“Why the fuck are you asking
these questions anyway? Who are you?” Paranoia had struck the stoner.
“I told you. I’m Lenny.”
“Yeah, but why are you off
busting your ass for the old man? I know he ain’t got no son.”
“Mr. Janson hired me. I’m a
private investigator.”
“What the fuck? In that outfit? I
would never have figured you for one dressed like that!”
“We don’t all wear trench coats
or Hawaii shirts, Cliff. Now please, humor me… Is there anything you can think
of that might help me track down the dog?”
“Sorry, dude. Really don’t. Maybe
the hot chick next door to the old man.”
“The nurse?”
“Yeah, Janice. She usually works
nights, though. But she likes the old man. And the dog. So you never know.”
“Guess I will try that, then.
Keep on rockin’. I’ll let myself out.” With those words Lenny left the place
before he got high from second-hand smoke.
TO BE CONTINUED
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