“Hello Phillips,” Sam tipped an imaginary hat to the detective. He was standing by the copier, watching it spit out papers.
“What the hell do you want this time, Miss Hawk?” He snapped, grabbing the sheets out of the tray.
They left inky stains on his hands which Sam wanted to point out to him, but she couldn’t when she saw him stroke the stubble on his face. It left long grimy marks there so it looked like he had sideburns. It was quite funny, so Sam held her tongue and stifled the laughter bubbling up inside her.
“I encountered that Doctor Doctor fellow today.”
Phillips whirled around, his eyebrows jumping upwards, “Is that so? And what did the loon say to you?”
Sam rocked back and forth on her heels, “Oh, nothing really…” She really didn’t feel like explaining transdimensional space and time travel at this juncture. “Just your average everyday nutcase. He has nothing to do with the Alex Masters case, I assure you Mr. Phillips.”
Phillips narrowed his eyes until his pudgy face appeared to swallow him, “Detective.” He corrected her, “What are you here for?”
Before she went to the police station, she’d made a quick pit stop at her apartment. It had been a long, confusing day at school, but there were still things to be done. Her mother greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a slice of hot apple pie. Sam took it to her bedroom, munching on the crust as she sorted through the underwear drawer of the late Alex Masters. The first thing she found that was of any importance was a small baggy of a green almost powdered substance that had been stuffed inside a sock. It smelled suspiciously like marijuana. Sam set it aside and continued to grope through his things, tossing aside thongs and rainbow colored boxers. Dissatisfied, she chewed at the inside of her cheek, her hands forming a steeple beneath her nose.
“What were you hiding?” She murmured.
“Well, I did find a packet of marijuana in Alex’s things,” She told him, acting as though she were merely discussing the weather with him. To irritate him further, she offered him a sly grin.
He stuck a sausage-like finger under her nose. Said finger was also smeared with black ink.
“You better bring me that tomorrow or I swear I’ll put you in the nearest juvenile detention center!” He barked, spittle flying from his lips.
He really looks like a bulldog today, Sam thought to herself.
“Alright, calm down, I will.” But not after she removed a good sized portion from it for herself…
Phillips turned back around and marched to his office, the papers crumpling in his tense hands. Sam shoved her hands in her coat pockets and followed him inside. She sat down in front of his desk, propping her feet up on the edge of it. Phillips promptly shoved them off, muttering his disapproval.
Sam shrugged and repositioned herself, crossing her ankles. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to search the boy’s entire dresser,”
Phillips gave her a withering look, “That’s not in our evidence. I’m afraid that it’s been auctioned off,”
Sam frowned, “Who oversaw the auction?”
“Meadowlark – they’re a furniture company,”
“Do you have contact information?”
“Do I look like a phonebook?”
Sam stood and went to the door, “Thank you for your time Mr. Phillips,”
The door shut softly behind her.
If Sam had stayed a moment longer, she would have been there when the report of the murder of her school's receptionist came in. Unfortunately, she was not. Sam went home, blissfully unaware of the stone eyes that watched her from the rooftops....