He felt like he had been chained to his desk for years. This is fucking ridiculous. It is eleven o’clock in the morning, the paperwork keeps piling up and he can’t get a single thing accomplished because the phone won’t stop ringing with more assignments.
On cue, the phone shrilled in his ear, the high-pitched tone was now apparently capable of causing his neck muscles to involuntarily twitch. He growled and snatched the phone. The caller ID told him everything he needed to know.
“Dawson Investigations”, he snarled, hoping his boss could hear every ounce of frustration in his voice. After a slight pause, a soft chuckle came though on the other end of the line.
“David,” Carla Dawson used her best soothing, sing-song voice. “Are you ready to tear the phone out of the wall?”
David’s demeanor automatically melted a little bit. He wasn’t alone, he reminded himself, they were all a team. They’d get through it. The only problem was, he was responsible for finding the answers to keep the field detectives safe. If he dropped the ball, someone could get hurt.
“Hey Carla, there just a lot going on this morning. What do you need?”
“Just the updates buddy. Next of kin for our two bail jumpers, name of the McDonald kid’s high school, and Mrs. Barbara Yates has called me twice this morning insisting we have yet to send the pictures we got on her hubby and threatening to send her lawyer after us for breach of contract.” The mention of Barbara Yates brought the little bit of tension that Carla had managed to dispel right back into David’s neck. Not bad though, she actually needed info he could readily give her. Time to check a few things of the list.
He swiveled over to the legal pad he’d been jotting notes on all morning. “About the fugitives, our meth dealer’s mother lives just over the state line in Clarksdale, and our aggravated robbery has an aunt in Pine Bluff, his mother’s sister. His mom is dead and his dad is serving life for capital murder, among other things. Jerry McDonald is enrolled in Wilbur D Mills, but according to the principals office he has been suspended for the past week due to some fights he started. And as for Mrs. Yates, let her know she can shove it up her ass. She has yet to pay us the balance due and if she cares to send her lawyer over, I’ll explain that it’s his crazy bitch of a client breaching the fucking contract. Need anything else boss?”
“Nope, that’s great Dave, thanks. Go ahead and take lunch. Worry about the other crap after you’ve had a break. Thanks!”
The phone clicked dead and Dave let out a sigh. This is doable. He just needed to breathe. He rose from the desk and grabbed his keys to head out to Firehouse for a sandwich. Gotta follow boss’s orders.
In response to Creative Nonfictional Fiction: Let’s Play!.