Page 6 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus would never do that. He knew once you started looking for something, you usually found something worse than expected.

He sat in the large comfy chair. He let out a sigh as he tipped backwards, gazing up at the ceiling that wasn’t covered in water stains from the leaking pipes through the years. He wondered if he’d gone through the wrong field searching for his mom’s killer. But no, this was the closest he would get to the man that had taken her away.

After day dreaming for a couple minutes, he got down to work. The stack of papers wasn’t going to fill themselves out.

Marcus’s neck was starting to ache and his hand was cramping when Patrice walked through the door. He held a drink carrier and a bag of food.

Marcus just opened his mouth when Patrice raised his finger. “Don’t say anything! I know you haven’t eaten all day.”

Marcus clamped his mouth shut. Patrice was right. And Marcus’s rumbling stomach agreed.

Defeated, he let Patrice push a turkey wrap and a warm caramel latte his way.

“Thank you.”

“I even asked for an extra shot for you.”

Marcus snorted. “Thanks. I know I’m going to need it.”

He started to get up so Patrice could have his desk back. Patrice didn’t finish taking a sip of his mocha frap before he started complaining.

“Sit back down. I’m going to be in the morgue for the rest of day. We have a backlog of examinations that need to be done this week.”

“Really? What happened to all your help?” There were usually a lot more examiners on staff.

Patrice winced. “Pam retired last week and Ryan took a leave since his third kid was born.”

“Wow. He’s young too.”

Patrice nodded. “I know. Makes me feel self-conscious. And I don’t even want kids!”

He took a long drink until there was half of his drink left. He sat it on the table. “Hold that for me.”

“You’re going to drink it when it’s half melted? We do have a fridge.”

“And let some asshole steal my drink? No thank you. Have fun!” Patrice waved as he exited, leaving Marcus to finish what he started.

With a heavy sigh, Marcus ate the rest of the turkey wrap. Once he got finished with his paperwork then it would be back on the road—far away from the real investigation he was interested in.

As filled out the forms, he wondered what he could do to get closer to the case.

Marcus was on patrol the next day. It was the same thing over and over. He worked the morning shift—from 4 AM to noon—and then waddled to his corner desk to do any paperwork. Paperwork was a broad term around here and especially pertaining to him. It usually meant anything no one else wanted to do.

“Hey, Marcus!”

He was flipping through pages, muttering to himself when Officer Larry Greene slapped him on the shoulder.

“Can you run these down to Sally for me? I’m running late for my shift.”

Larry shoved a stack of papers an inch thick into Marcus’s face. They were haphazardly put together. A paperclip as old as Marcus held the stack barely together. It was old and rusted like Larry had plucked it out of a sewage drain.

“Sure.”

Marcus went to grab the stack, but Larry let it flop onto the desk. Larry let out a laugh and smacked Marcus hard on the back again.

“Thanks, buddy.”

Marcus bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not your fucking buddy.”

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