Neil Knight Private Dick

Sunza Bitches

"That's Angel Miguel Secundino, street name of Frankie Hopeless" said detective Jose Juarez as he reviewed the video printout.

"Born in the Mabury Park area. Joined the Loper gang as a kid. Never got nabbed in the roundups before the last mayoral election, even though we know the supersized bastard was at some of the locations right before we raided them. Goddamn psychic. The shit's got a friggin' sixth sense or something."

Or something.

"What's he done now? Shot somebuddy? Broke some ribs? Beat up an old lady?"

"You're close. I can't tell you specifics, but you might be getting a tip from a concerned citizen at a public parking garage who has video evidence of suspicious activity concerning this guy."

"Anything explicit?"

"You won't be able to see the actual assault. Just inferenced by the actions you'll be able to see. Not enough to convict, only maybe hold him for a few hours if you need to keep him off the street."

"OK. Well, worst case we get a copy of the video evidence in case the prosecutors need it in the future. Stayin busy?" Jose asked.

"Busy enough thanks."

"How about the hounds? Still pissing off the neighbors?"

Neil rolled his eyes in response.

"Anyway. Thanks for the tip Jose. I owe you a..."

"...chicken dinner. Give me a call when this is over, and you can fill in the details" the detective responded.

The two shook hands, with Neil taking the side exit of the Orange County Sheriff's Department headquarters.

Dusk was falling over the city as he left the building, opposite the structure's parking lot, turning right and deftly handling the four stairs from one level of concrete paved walkway to the next.

At that moment an SUV cruiser pulled to the curb at 550 North Flower Street, Sheriff Helen Wilson-Watson exiting the vehicle in an agitated and animated manner.

'Shit-in-a-bucket' thought Neil to himself, his mind racing for a plan to avoid a potential confrontation. With nothing coming he braced himself like a fat man for a bellyflop.

But nothing happened. She simply passed him by, yelling and gesticulating like an exorcist casting out demons.

The private eye double-timed it toward Civic Center Plaza about a half block away.

As he reached West 64th, turning right, headed for the parking garage, he heard the shrill scream of his name as it resonated throughout the Sheriff's Quadrangle. Wilson-Watson had just realized he'd walked past her. Neil broke into a trot.

Each year elected officials and public employees who make, or influence, governmental decisions are required to submit a Form 700, which is a Statement of Economic Interest. In his second submission of his second term, Mayor Miguel Turedo reported many of his previously disclosed loans had been closed. At least the ones with actual due dates.

The intent of the Form 700 is to provide the type of transparency needed to ensure that officials are making decisions in the best interest of the public and not enhancing their personal finances. It also helps in exposing any potential conflicts of interest so an individual can recuse himself from decision making on certain initiatives.

On February 13th the office of the District Attorney of Orange County received a call about possible discrepancies in the federal disclosure form filed by Mayor Miguel Turedo.

Anonymous tips are more apt to be taken seriously if the caller is specific about the suspected crime, sounds knowledgeable, and presents themselves as credible, either over the phone or in writing. At the other end of the spectrum, clairvoyants who 'see' clues, and report events as fact, are usually dismissed until all other conventional means of gathering information have dried up. Then, and only then, seers may assume a certain level of hopeful credibility.

Anonymous tips rarely turn out to be valuable, but not so rarely they can be ignored completely.

Peggy Moran had worked in the office of Anthony Thomas Riganti since he was first elected in 2004. Previously she had worked as his 'administrative assistant' when he had toiled as an attorney in private practice. She was, Tony said, his most loyal employee.

Of course, she was a little bit 'off' as well, as he often referred to her as "Crazy Peggy" in private conversations with friends or associates. But he kept her on despite her eccentricities as she did what she was told and was appreciative of the 3% annual raises he provided.

She lived alone in a 695 square foot, one bath, studio apartment at 1001 Riverine Avenue in Santa Ana. Peggy had lived there for years, long enough, in fact, that the 'no pet' policy, instituted in 1982, did not apply to her as she was grandfathered, or as she liked to say, 'grandmothered' in.

Luckily, as a pet owner, Peggy had a penchant for mynas, macaws, parrots and cockatoos, so they never annoyed her neighbors in the conventional way that a barking dog might, or perhaps the smell of 14 cats sharing one litterbox would as it invaded the confines of a shared hallway. No, myna birds are relatively harmless.

Unless, of course, one has the habit of swearing like a sailor, which was Peggy's social shortcoming. Due to her colorful language, her birds, all five of them, could often be heard by passersby on the street, one floor below her apartment, as they held impromptu discussions on topics ranging from conspiracy theories to government officials and illegal immigrants.

Of course, one could argue whether birds are even capable of having conversations, but for whatever Peggy's birds lacked in breadth, depth and scope, they made up for in vulgarity. Those who stopped on the street to listen as the air turned blue, would consider the competency and veracity of the feathered creatures cursing.

"Sunza bitches"

"Goddamn it all"

"Kiss my ass Paco"

"Friggin' whore"

"What the fuck"

"Turedo's a dick"

Now some people knew Paco, Peggy's on and off again boyfriend, so that statement didn't take much figuring out, and the object of the curse on the last one was likewise not in question. In fact, the phrase "Turedo's a dick" had become so popular that the street vendors outside of Hermandad Mexicana, one half a block down the street, would immediately apply a one-dollar discount to any meal ordered when the birds screeched those words, the street and buildings acting like a megaphone.

One time, at the insistence of the Mayor's wife, the local police had ticketed Peggy for violating a regional noise ordinance, but the charges were quickly dropped after the local news picked up on the story, embarrassing the Mayor and making a minor celebrity of Peggy and her birds.

The media attention only served to make the DA more appreciative of his employee, and some, in fact, attributed the birds cursing about Turedo not to Peggy, but to Riganti himself, as it was a pet phrase he often used when discussing his contempt for the Mayor. It might, in fact, explain why Peggy no longer brought her birds into the office after the news story aired.

In any event, it seemed as if one was to expect longevity in the office of the district attorney, one should share, mimic or parrot his political beliefs, and Peggy had, for as long as anyone could remember.

Which is why she, with a gleam in her eye and as broad as smile as she could muster, burst into her bosses' office with the information about 'El Baleen' and Form 700.

'With any luck' she thought, 'there might be a beaching'.