The Salacious Life of Detective Vic Musket

A cloud of smoke pours into the light from around a deserted street corner.  The source could be one of three things: Detective Vic Musket, a weary toothless prostitute, or both.  This is Vic's territory.  A place where bad people go to get even with bad people.  His services are as surefire as they are cheap, if you have the kind of back alley connections to find him.  He is not listed in any kind of civilian directory.

"I don't care about the money, I care about the whiskey.  You can't promise me a tongue in the ass and deliver a thumb instead."  Vic was angrily dressing down the much larger man.

"I am not goin all the fuck way down to the liquor store to get you whiskey when all you did was find out who took a shit on my porch.  I didn't even ask you to look into it... Come to think of it, it was probably you that did the shitting.  And Father O'Malley had a pretty good alibi..."

"Just give me the ten dollars, asshole.  This is the last time I do you any favors."  Vic snatched the loose bills out of  the man's clenched fist, swiftly making his way toward the liquor store.  "Works every time..." he muttered.  Father O'Malley would forgive him, he always does.  He just needed to gather a good explanation for his Sunday visit to the father's confession booth.  I mean, he practically has to forgive you in there.

God's Convenient Loophole

Eight minutes later, the whiskey procured and nearly consumed, Vic sits at his regular perch on a bus bench.  Even the bus drivers know not to stop for him.  He never goes anywhere.  Oh the life of an unlicensed investigator, great periods of boredom punctuated by routine arrests for indecent exposure.

RING! RING!

But every once in a while things get interesting.  All it takes is one unexpected call to a seemingly out of order pay phone to prompt this turd to show off his polish.  He answers.  "Vic Musket.  What's the job?"

"Mr Musket I have a request that needs the utmost discretion.  I am a very rich man, and I need a punishment to be carried out.  Find the man who raped my daughter and make him pay.  I understand you passion is drink.  I can make you a very drunk man, Mr Musket."

"You have my attention stranger."  Vic replied.  "I will find your man.  And after I slam his dick in a desk drawer I will deliver it to you to be used as a bookmark.  Just leave the details in a portfolio on the top of this payphone."  Click.  He grinned and pulled deeply from the last of his bottle.  No more investigating Johns to find out who is spreading the cock cheese to the local working gals...

To be continued...