Vic Musket Visits a Porno Shop. Again. (Part 2)

He gritted his teeth and bore the pain.  With a final shudder he extracted the soiled newsprint that was doing double duty as toilet paper and gave it a deep smell.  It was dark and he wanted to ensure a thorough job.  But even here, crouched behind a city dumpster, detective Vic Musket is as dangerous as a chimpanzee with a machete.

And he now has a job to do.  Vic rose to his feet and tucked his empty whiskey bottle into his overcoat.  Being without the bottle makes him feel as vulnerable as not having his .38 revolver, and he would need to be at top form for his first step in this investigation.  Catching a rapist is difficult since rape is not a social activity for criminals.  Rapists don’t hang out together anywhere outside of the Catholic church, and they couldn’t be to blame here since the victim is an adult female.  And to catch a rapist you need to think like a rapist.  Being a complete degenerate pervert was giving Vic the edge.

The detective arrived at the short stairwell of the adult book shop.  Now that he wasn’t moving he could tell he carried an odor.  He quickly peels the newspaper from his heel and threw it over the railing into the street.  “Damn,” he thought “after at least six blocks it stayed with me.  I need more fiber in my diet.”  He stepped inside the familiar doorway.

“Fuck you, Musket.  You know the rules.  No creeps in long jackets, we’ve had too many problems.”  The man at the register said, never bothering to take the cigarette out of his mouth.  “I’m not a customer for jackoff fodder today, Mitch.  Take me to the back office.”  Shit.  Vic thought.  That sounded like a proposition for sex.

The man gestured to the back door and led the way.  Hopefully he wasn’t preparing a hardon.  Once inside Vic was relieved to see a normal office, and not a gynecological table or something.  “I know who hired you, Vic.  And I know a little about what happened to that poor girl.  Now I know you ain’t got money, but there is something you can do for me that will get me to talk.  I want you to get a guy to confess to robbing my shop last week...”

Fuck.  This was going to be unpleasant.  “How do I know that I want to hear what you have to say?”  Vic asked, more perceptive than normal.  Three hours after drinking appears to be the mental sweet spot for brain function.  “I will tell you this much up front:  You are not looking for the rapist, but for the guy that hired the rapist.  Someone is trying to punish your client…”  Mitch was leaning in close now, and there was nothing appetizing about that.  A contracted rape?  Sounds like there will be more than one dick to deliver to the anonymous man on the phone.  And there would have to be a renegotiation on his pay…

To be continued…