Just like a dumbfuck, I fell into the trap.
Just like a dumbfuck, I fell into the trap. I was at the office, almost closing time, when the phone rang and it was her crying. Like a twisted knight from the days of old, I tried to run to her rescue.
Two days ago, this piece of jailbait came in to talk to me about how her step father, mega industrialist Jack Roberts, had raped her. She said he was going to do it again soon and that she couldn’t go to the cops as his deep pockets had paid them off for the next decade worth of fucked up cover ups. Little Shelley told me that she wanted to hire me to catch him in the act and either capture video or give him my own personal kind of justice. She said daddy would be back in town soon and that he promised her a good time. Little Shelley didn’t have much to offer me for pay but I knew that many of Mr. Roberts rivals would be interested in seeing him with his pants down, his Mr. Happy missing, or with a trademark bullet greeting right in between his surprised eyes. I would have gotten my bounty either way.
Now here I lay in a dilapidated hotel room lying on a puddle of some blood, my guns missing, and a total probable suspect in the murder of a little girl.