Butchering in the Bayou (chapter 1)

Chapter One: The Call
The telephone rang throughout the cluttered office. Strategically placed over the coffee mug stains, beside the package of cigarettes, and under the morning newspaper, the telephone was completely disguised. It continued to ring, not even causing a flutter of an eyelash from Officer Marshall. His alligator skin boots were propped upon the donut crumbs covering his hickory desk while his arms crossed over his bulky chest. His slumber was deep and impenetrable. The humid New Orleans heat had lulled him to sleep a half an hour before he was off duty.
The sunlight struggled to break through the grime on the windows and into the office. Dust particles floated around aimlessly, some landing upon the officer’s silver frog he got for his thirtieth birthday six years ago from his daughter. The telephone continued to ring. Officer Marshall grunted in his sleep, scratched his round gut and settled again in his beat up high back chair. The sound of the locusts in the trees sounded in between the persistent rings of the telephone. A horsefly wandered in through the gaping hole in the screen of the office, and landed on the officer’s face. Suddenly, Officer Marshall burst awake with the horsefly’s sting, disturbing some more dust particles. He smacked his face with his massive hand and frightened the fly away. Wincing in pain, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and glanced around his disorderly office. After a sip of his stale water, he finally realized that his phone was ringing. He flipped the paper off of the receiver and answered the call with a drowsy voice. “Hello. Officer Marshall’s office.” He said as he yawned and scratched his back.
“This is Pete. You gotta get down here quick, sir.” The young police man stated.
The officer got annoyed and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. “Pete. It is…ten minutes until I’m off duty. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” The late afternoon heat was getting to the officer. He wiped his face with his hankie and blew out the match.
Pete stumbled over his words. “B-but sir…it has hap-happened…again.”
Officer Marshall’s heart stopped, his jaw dropped, as did his cigarette. “Shit!” He screamed from pain and astonishment as he flicked the cigarette from his lap to the ground. “Where did it happen this time?”
“Up near Cleatus’ shack.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.” The officer slammed the receiver down hard and searched through the disarray for his keys and handcuffs, which he found under an old calendar. Before leaving, he made sure his daughter’s picture was in his pocket. He took a few of his sinus pills, muttering about dust and allergies before he hurried toward the front door.
He stepped out onto the tiny office’s front steps, squinted in the afternoon sun, and slapped his cowboy hat onto his thinning red head and marched on the dusty road toward Cleastus’ hovel. Officer Marshall arrived at the scene shortly, and his heart began to throb as he surveyed the scene before him. He fingered his handlebar mustache, a nervous reaction, as he bent under the police tape to stand beside Pete.
Pete explained everything to Officer Marshall, but the officer already knew everything there was to know about this certain case. He had lived it first hand four years before. The images flashed back to him: the body, entrails exposed and laying beside the mangled body, the police searching through the swamp for evidence, the crowd of onlookers trying to see the scene of chaos. Officer Marshall knew this all too well.
He bent over and heaved, the stomach acid burning his esophagus. More images raced through his mind: his daughter’s lifeless corpse being lowered into the cold ground, the screams pounding in his head, the silhouette of her killer laughing insanely in the moonlight, the fact that Officer Marshall was too late to save her. He grew faint, dizzy, and everything was hazy to him. Everything distorted, no difference between the past and present. The bitter scent of his vomit mixed with the intense heat was too much for the officer. He shouted out as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.