Neil Knight Private Dick

Ella es Lesbiana

"She's a carpet muncher" said Frankie. "A muff diver."

He'd called Vinnie just a few moments before from his cellphone on Saturday, the tenth of December, at 3 am while the king of the Lopers was watching Singapore play Mynamar in the Asean Football Federation qualification round on tv.

"Talk sense Frankie. You're talking gibberish. Don't fuck with me when I'm watching soccer."

"She like's women" he clarified.

"Who likes women?" asked Vinnie.

"Esposa Campana. Ella es lesbiana."

"Holy fuck. You sure about this?" he muted the tv.

"Yeah. She didn't meet a guy at that gallery opening. She met a girl. And guess who the girl is?"

"Don't play games Frankie."

"That darkie Dee Dee's wife up in Yorba Linda."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"Esto no es Bueno" muttered Vinnie. "Good work Frankie. I'll ring you back. I gotta make a call."

'Ah crap' Carlos said to himself as he saw the name on his cellphone in the middle of the night. He rolled out of bed, the foam mattress exhaling in relief, and stumbled toward the living room.

He pressed the screen to answer the call.

"Sit down" came the command over the phone.

Carlos settled into his all-leather Southern Motion Hercules Recliner with double-doweled, steel reinforced hardwood seat box and power headrest.

"Tu esposa es rara. A ella le gustan las damas."

"That's in her past" replied Carlos. "She used to be bi-sexual before we met. I changed all that" he said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Ella está jodiendo a una mujer negra mi amiga" was Vinnies response. "The wife of Dee Dee Shams. The black record producer at Breakout Records. Lives in Yorba Linda. His wife's company sponsored the gallery event where they met."

Carlos felt his nuts shrink.

"Bullshit" he managed to squeak out.

"Ningún bullshit" answered the voice on the phone.

"She's not black" stuttered Carlos. "She's Polynesian."

"For fucks sake" replied Vinnie. "Mayate si Mayate. Ninguna diferencia."

"Don't do anything" instructed Vinnie. "I'll have one of my boys correct the situation. Get out of town this coming weekend. Go somewhere public. Make a splash. Be seen."

His mind raced. "The Hmong International New Year celebration begins this weekend in Fresno. Over 200,000 Hmong attend. Get the Orange County Register to send Michelle Mills to cover the event. I'll leave Friday morning."

"Good" answered Vinnie. "Don't come back until Monday afternoon in case we need more time."

The phone went dead.

'I'll have one of my boys correct the situation'. The words rung in his ears as he re-entered his bedroom and looked at his wife, the form of her body slowly rising and falling rhythmically.

This might be the last week he would ever see her alive.

Sad.

Melancholy.

She wasn't a bad woman.

And she was still in good shape.

He looked at her as the light sheet clung to her form.

She never wore bedclothes. Even to this day.

Visions of her with her black lover filled his head.

He felt a mild swelling.

Maybe he should get a little while he still could.

He disrobed and slid next to her.

"Love you" he whispered into her ear. "I'm sorry if I haven't been more attentive. If I've hurt you in any way."

She turned toward him.

'Were those tears in her eyes?' he thought. 'Did she still care?'

Oh yes.

It was going to be a good night.

Maybe even a good week.