Happy Valley Meat Shop was located on the corner of 8th Street and Hemmingway Road, a small store with large windows across the front and a narrow door. The window displaying a wide range of cold cuts, chops of pigs and cows, pile of animal intestines stacked up like some sort of modern art, and list of custom sizes with their respective prices drawn by highlighter like paint usually seen at car sales company.

Sergeant Leo and Constable McLamb pushed through the tight glass door. Immediately they spotted the butcher in the corner, swinging a large cleaver to sever a thick cow femur bone. One swing and two clean pieces were made to reveal fresh bone marrow.

The detective exchanged a glance to the constable and approached, “Excuse me sir.”

The large and well rounded butcher glanced up with a furrowed brow. A half-hearted swing of his wrist and he stuck the corner of the knife into the chopping board, making it stand up like a sword in the stone. He wiped off the blood, grease, and bone shards from his thick and grubby hands, smearing more red and yellow over his stained apron. With a small huff, he picked up a tray of chopped meat and bones, turning his back on the officers as he waddled to a backdoor.

“I said, EXCUSE ME!” Leo stepped forward, hand near the holster hidden under his jacket. “We need to talk, right now!”

The butcher stopped in his track, head reeling back with a groan. He dropped the tray down on another counter and waddled back, hands on the board near the standing knife.

“I.R.S.?”

Leo pinched his nose bridge, “No. We’re here to talk to you about a murder case.”

“Bruh.” The butcher shrugged with open hands, gesturing to all the animal corpses in his store, entrails dangling on display hooks labelled with discounts, “People like’em fresh. I’m just doing my job!”

“N-no, w-we’re not from PETA, sir,” McLamb stepped in showing his police card, “C.I.D.”

“Oh! Coppers. Pffff.” The butcher burst a deep sigh of relief...then waddled to the backroom.

“HEY!” Leo barked as he marched after the man, “Have some respect! We’re here to talk about the assault case you committed!”

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“Whoa, whoa, whoooooa!” The butcher stopped in his tracks with his hands up, all color draining from his face, “I did not hit her! I did not! Oh heyll no Marky boy!!”

McLamb swallowed a lump in his throat, “Wh-who are you talking about? Who did you hit?”

“I just said: no one! And hey, if this is all coming from my ex-wife, she’s insane! Like legit! Diagnosed – sociopath!” The butcher shook his head, hands up where everyone can see them. “Never struck a woman in my life, momma taught me better. Yeah no, that ex-wife is lying through her teeth like she always does. She just wants more than the alimony I give her – the gold digger! My only regret was letting her deal with my taxes! She took every penny from me AND frame me for domestic abuse! It’s bull!”

Leo and McLamb eased the tension in their body. They exchanged another look with each other and McLamb pulled out his phone. He tapped on the screen, showing the photo of a certain victim.

“A month ago, Nurse Sarah Tucker neglected to care for your father who died of a heart attack.” McLamb held the phone closer when the butcher had to squint his eyes to see. “You gave her a death threat and attacked her at St. Marlene Hospital. Even the court placed a restraining order on you. Now Sarah Tucker is dead, chopped up into seven pieces and--”

“Oh. Hold up. Hold – up.” The butcher made a pushing gesture with his hands to deny the reality he was given. He made slow and steady steps away from his cleaver, and exited it from around the counter to approach the two officers. “I think there is a misunderstanding, officers. My papi is alive – and well, thank you very much.”

The detective and constable dropped their hands from their holster. They couldn’t help but stare at the butcher, who took this chance to start breathing again.

“My old man just got hitched to a hooker while he was in Vegas. Said love at first sight. I meaaaaaan, man’s been without my ma for a decade, I gueeeess he has the right to find happiness in strange places.”

McLamb’s face cringed with realization. “A-are you Jim Lawton?”

“Oh hiiiim? Nah, nah. My name is Zach Woods, I’m his assistant.”

When the officers eased up on the atmosphere, the butcher Zach took small steps backward. He pulled up a huge 2 liter milk jug full of water and took several deep gulps to hydrate himself. He dabbed his lips and the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm.

McLamb peered through the open rooms in the store, “Where is Jim, your employer?”

“452 Charlotte’s Web Drive.”

“Wait.” Leo pulled out his phone and typed in the address. Results came back and he glared. “That’s a cemetery.”

Zach sipped his water jug, “Applewood Memorial Gardens. Right near the willow tree. You can’t miss it.”

== TO BE CONTINUED ==>