Except, the turtle had a Rosé wine bottle up its arse and an erection that pointed straight up at the ceiling.
“Yep. Sylvester the Molester in all his glory,” Wendy said, throwing her arms out like a ringmaster at the circus.
“Alrigh’, Wend?” Sylvester slurred, his long, greasy hair sticking to his forehead as saliva dribbled down his cheek.
“Mhm,” she replied, handing Johnny a blue face mask. She squatted next to Sylvester and shook her head. “Really, fella? You just had to go for white Zinfandel?”
Sylvester grinned and went to reach between his legs but Wendy slapped his hand away.
“I was only gonna offer you a swig, Wend. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
He leered, palming his balls as he wiggled his hips, making the wine bottle sway from side to side. Johnny heard Wendy dry heave behind her mask as she stepped back.
“Says putting the bottle in his arse gets the alcohol into his system quicker,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I mean… scientifically speaking he’s probably right, but?—”
“By giving himself a Rosé enema?” Johnny replied, snapping his mask into place. “The guy’s going to develop alcohol poisoning at this rate, not to mention the internal damage.”
Wendy shrugged and ushered the last two traumatised looking customers out of the shop. “Eh, don’t feel too worried. The guy’s a beta, lives in one of those yellow ribbon houses on the outskirts of town. Ex-convict, released from prison earlier in the year after raping a High Enfield woman in the early two thousands. Hence the nickname. Sylvester the Molester.”
Johnny baulked. “You’ve got yellow ribbon houses? Here? In one of the most vulnerable communities in Falkington?”
“Yep,” she replied, tugging at her mask. “The council had to build so many social houses, and that’s where they stuck them. They keep themselves to themselves most of the time, but Sylvester… well, let’s just say he’s becoming a bit of a nuisance.” She sucked in a breath and bent down again. “But hopefully you’ll die soon, eh, Syl? Then we can stop smelling your arse every other week.”
Sylvester scoffed and planted his feet on the floor with an audible slap. “What did you say?”
“I said, hopefully you’ll die soon!” she replied, louder that time.
Johnny rubbed between his eyebrows. The town was fucking nuts. Absolutelybonkers.
Sylvester suddenly swung at Wendy. There was barely any force behind it, but Johnny lurched forwards and stepped on Sylvester’s forearm to stop him flailing.
Unfortunately for everyone, Sylvester tensed, making his body clench, which caused the wine bottle to shoot out of his arse. It skidded across the tiled floor and smashed into a shelving unit, sending half a bottle of wine splashing everywhere. Some of it splattered onto the back of Johnny’shand, some on his leg, and he knew beyond all reasonable doubt that his entire uniform was being burned that night.
Wendy groaned and pulled a foil blanket out of a side pocket in her stab vest. “I’m only winding you up, Syl. Chill your beans. Let’s get you home.”
Johnny frowned. “Home?”
“Yeah. Home. No use taking him anywhere else because he’ll just cause more trouble.”
Johnny looked at her incredulously. “The police station, maybe?”
Wendy waved the comment away. “What’s the point? CPS won’t charge given that he’s got a list of conditions longer than my arm, he’s diabetic, and the prison diagnosed him with schizophrenia. He’s too ill to go back to prison, so what’s the point?”
“Wendy,” Johnny began, dropping his voice to a whisper, “the man’s a registered sex offender. He’s damaged the shop and caused public outrage. Besides, I’m betting the shopkeeper is getting pretty fucking tired of him constantly driving away customers.”
“Oh, they don’t care about?—”
“Yes, we do!” a woman called from the next aisle along. “We’re pretty sick of it, actually.”
Johnny tipped his head and gave Wendy a look that said ‘See?’ And that was that, so without taking his foot off Sylvester’s arm, Johnny slid his handcuffs out of his utility belt and bent down.
“Mr… er—” He looked at Wendy.
Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Pearce.”
“Mr Pearce, I’m arresting you on suspicion of criminal damage and offences under the public order act.”
Sylvester leered up at him with narrowed eyes, as if only just realising he was there.
