I never thought I would be bested by a pair of shoes. As I made the drawings for this week, I thought that nothing could withstand the reality inducing tones of my pencil. I thought I could draw anything, but I was wrong. I can’t draw shoes. You know, I thought that if I had a weakness, it would be something like dragons, or hands grasping eternity, or something cool like that, not shoes. I mean, I can draw Chuck Taylor gym shoes or something like that, but not regular shoes. It’s embarrassing.
Anyhow, please bear with me. I wasn’t able to draw as many cartoons for this story as I would have liked, but I did my best. I’ll try and pick up the pace in the updates to come. Thanks for reading! -BW
Lt. David Marcus has served as a police detective in San Francisco, California for years on end. Through the years of writing reports, chasing after men in leather coats, and going to crime scenes when he would much rather stay in bed and play with his children, he has made use of more than a fair share of favors. The path to where he is now has not been short, and has not been easy. He has often had a man’s back, while his friends cover his posterior as well. He is a man who owes favors, and to whom favors are owed.
With that said, the pile of debt from his overdue favors weighed heavily on his mind. Especially a certain large, cumbersome, and painfully awkward favor.
The computer monitor on his desk illuminated that favor and shined it brightly in Lt. Marcus’s face like a flashlight in the eyes of a burglar caught in the act.
“Hey, Marc. What’s cooking?”
Marcus abruptly closed the tab on his computer and tilted the monitor ever so slightly away from the door.
“Oh, nothing.” David said. He cursed himself. He couldn’t think of a better lie on short notice. Whatever had happened to him? David could think of a better story by reflex when he walked a beat. Now his lying reflexes had grown flabby.
A bald and grinning man stood in the doorway to Marcus’s office, holding a coffee cup.
“What are you doing, really?” the man asked. He was Paul Dempsey, the other lieutenant on the floor.
“Nothing.” Darn me!
“Sure, sure. I know you and you’re type, Marcus. Whenever they hide their monitor screen, it always means the same thing: cat videos.”
“Sure. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I do it too. I love that video of the one with the ball of yarn.” Paul shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “Those little kittens are darn cute.”
Marcus’s mind lunged at the innocent excuse like a drowning man scrambles for a life preserver.
“Yeah, those cat videos are pretty cute.” His fingers flew across the keyboard and a video of two kittens fighting over some yarn dominated the screen. Paul leaned over Marcus’s shoulder and watched for a minute.
“Marcus, the world expects men in our line of work to be heartless drones, accustomed to the rigors of our line of work. If we’re not careful, we can fall for the same lie ourselves. It’s not a good thing. I think it’s great that you’re not afraid to sit here and watch these kitten videos on the to keep yourself sensitive.” Paul clapped him on the shoulder a few times. “I wouldn’t have expected it of you. You’ve bottled up your scaly exterior in the past, but I’m glad you’re finally letting your guard down.”
Paul took his coffee and walked away, chuckling.
Marcus let the video play in the background as he punched a number into his phone. He heard the ringing on the other end, and listened as the other line was answered.
“I have the information that you wanted.”
“I can’t do these favors for you all the time. You have to understand that. If the department catches wind of this and catches on to what I’m doing . . . “
“Please, don’t worry yourself, Mr. Marcus. It’s not at all good for you. Believe me, I would know. You said you have conducted the search that I asked for?”
“Yes. I found the man you wanted, Warren Lennard.”
“I see. And where is he?”
“He’s been picked up on a vagrancy charge in Miami. Right now he’s being held overnight, but you’ll have to hurry if you want to talk with him. The police will release him in the morning.”
“Very well, Mr. Marcus. I think I will visit Mr. Lennard.”
“Be careful, this guy is dangerous.”
“I will be cautious.”
“By the way, I want to tell you that this is the very last favor I’m doing for you. The very last.”
The voice on the phone chuckled softly.
“I don’t think that either of us believe that, do we, Mr. Marcus?”
Tannenbaum smiled and hung up the phone on David Marcus.
Don’t forget to come back every Tuesday and Saturday!