Traffic [Valduggery, Skulduggery Pleasant Fanfiction]

Coccyx

Not safe for work.

...

Valkyrie crouched by the bed, eyebrows drawn together. "How do we know it isn't a heart attack? He's an old guy, and old guys have weak hearts, and intercourse involves a lot of heart pumping."

"Look at the picture," Skulduggery said, nodding his head in the direction of the side table.

"Well, that could be his grandson." Valkyrie frowned. "However, they have that same..." Valkyrie tapped her nose. "What, from a broken nose, probably? Doesn't flow with his chin, where it should be."

"Oh, well, yes."

Valkyrie looked over her shoulder at him. "That wasn't the answer you were looking for?"

Skulduggery held up a wallet. "I found this in his pants, and it's the same person in the license picture. However, I admit that I'm admiring that observation. That's a point for you on this investigation."

Valkyrie smiled. "Ahead already. Okay, so." She stood up and held up a finger. "Young man suddenly becomes old man overnight." A second finger. "A mortal, which rules out any intentional age-modification. That leaves an external source."

Skulduggery nodded.

Valkyrie couldn't keep her eyes away from the body.

The guy was shirtless, pants around his ankles—he still had his steel toed boots on, covered in concrete. He was decrepit, skin loose around his bones, nearly transparent, eyes sunken in. Hair nothing more than a few strands. In fact, Valkyrie was reminded of a mummy.

Except for the man's penis.

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at Skulduggery, and she couldn't stop the smirk from creeping across his face.

"Do..." she began.

Skulduggery tilted his head up, slightly; had the façade been active, his eyes would have been closed. "Valkyrie, I am beseeching you to avoid mentioning the elephant in the room. I have never prayed for anything more in the entirety of my life than for you and I to exit this room without mentioning anything."

Valkyrie held up her hands. "Alright, alright."

Valkyrie grabbed the picture from the table, Skulduggery activated his façade, and they exited the apartment. The Cleavers nodded respectfully as they passed. Valkyrie shoved her hands in her pockets, smiling to herself.

"Valkyrie, please stop thinking about it."

She broke and threw her hands in the air. "Look, all I'm wondering if there's a way to get rid of the boner for the funeral! That's all I'm asking!"

Skulduggery shook his head. "You are such a disappointment."

"Look—"

"If you were a construction worker, what would you do on a Friday evening?"

...

The bartender cleaned the glass with a rag. How sanitary could that possibly be? The same rag, never washed, used on multiple cups and mugs?

Valkyrie shivered.

Skulduggery nodded. "Good afternoon. We're Detectives Pleasant and Cain."

The bartender grunted. "Shoulda' figured as much. No one comes in here with a suit on, not unless they're the police asking questions."

"How astute you are," Skulduggery said. "That's exactly what my partner and I are. Do you happen to know this fellow?" Skulduggery offered the picture to the man. "He was found dead in his apartment this morning. Johnathon Donoghue, construction worker."