Dirty Work

Transactional sex, violence, sexual assault

The newspaper flew across the table with enough force it almost took out Caeso’s mug before it slid to a halt just in front of his plate. He finished his mouthful of toast before he turned his attention to it, but from Kita’s furious expression he knew it’d be exactly what he expected.

He was right, although it took a few page-turns to find out. If the victims had been beautiful, straight young women he had no doubt they would be splashed across the national headlines.

Considering the murders involved young male prostitutes, he supposed it wasn’t really a surprise each body only merited a small corner paragraph, and only locally, not nationally. No one wanted to feel uncomfortable over their breakfasts.

That one of the twin Goddesses of Silent Judgement, the Mutae Tacitae — this particularly angry one also known as Kita, Caeso’s best friend — had thrown it with such derision told him the progress the police had, or rather hadn’t, made with the case.

It’s like they’re not even trying, she signed, each gesture quick and clipped in her anger. Only practice helped Caeso keep up.

“They aren’t trying,” he said, flipping the paper closed again. “I thought you knew that by now?”

She threw herself into the chair opposite so violently it toppled sideways for a perilous moment before landing back on all fours with a thump. I know. I just hoped for once they’d do something.

He passed her the French press without a word. She poured herself a cup and drained it in one long, gulping mouthful. Only then did he think it might be wise to ask: “I take it you’re investigating, then?”

She nodded vigorously. Father escorted all the boys himself. From what he’s pieced together, it’s the same man.

“Could any of them describe him?”

Kita shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. They were each sure it was a former customer, but they didn’t know which one. She paused, then looked up at him again, something very almost wary behind her eyes. They worked for a little brothel. Only they called it a swinger’s club.

“Because that’s the only legal thing to call it.” So much for ‘the oldest profession.’ If anything, society had regressed in the near two thousand years since Caeso’s youth. He folded the edge of the paper over, teasing it between his fingers until it surrendered, and waited for his friend to continue.

For a moment Kita just fidgeted instead, looking around the sparse kitchen and out across his back garden rather than meet his eyes. She teased him often about how unsubtle he could be, but when she felt unable to say something outright she was just as bad.

He sighed heavily. “You want me to help, don’t you?”

Usually when he guessed correctly she was all enthusiasm and cheer. This time, when her green eyes settled on him, they were full of trepidation and her signing was cautious. It’s... more difficult for us to catch him in the act. We’re all female and he...

“...Won’t be interested in you,” Caeso finished for her. “Which means you have to find someone else to help. Which means... me, right?”