Neil Knight Private Dick

I Gotta Pee Again

"It seems as if our Mayor forgot to mention on his Form 700 that he swapped a parking lot on 5th Street for a house in Westminster. A house he freakin sold three months later for twice the swap price. He cleared two hundred and fifty thousand and he has amnesia when it comes time to report it" said Riganti as he downed his eleventh scotch and soda.

"That's a lot of money" replied WilsonWatson.

'The woman's a genius' thought Tony.

"Yes, it is Helen" he continued. "Three weeks after that he attends a City Council meeting where he votes yes on a proposal loverboy Carlos Santino Campana puts before the council members to assign a $1.35-million no-bid city contract to Orange County Auto Used Car, Towing, Parts & Repair which is owned by who?"

Helen WilsonWatson was already mired in alcoholic sweats, as beads of whiskey laced perspiration gathered under her armpits and rivulets of the fluid tracked down her spine, disappearing into her ass crack.

Tony ordered another round to make it an even dozen.

"I dunno" she barely managed, focused instead on the pool of liquid puddling beneath her private parts.

"Carmine LaFrenza. Who happens to be married to the former Carmela Fuentes, sister of the leader of the Lopers gang Vinnie Fuentes."

"So, you're going after Vinnie Fuentes?" Helen asked.

"Christ no" answered Tony.

'Why would I fuck up my retirement account' he silently mused.

"Try to catch up Helen. It's time to put the screws to Hizzoner."

"My secretary met with the Feds yesterday and filed an affidavit detailing the same information I just disclosed to you. The criminal complaint paperwork was brought before my good friend U.S. District Judge Franklin Pierce Sherman who agreed there is probable cause, and he should be signing the arrest warrant" Tony checked his watch "right about now."

"The good Mayor will be taken in to the County Jailhouse by a US Marshall when he leaves City Hall at 5:35, like he does every day. I wanted the arrest to make the 6:00 news. Create a buzz."

"You gonna be OK to make a statement if they want one?" asked WilsonWatson.

"You think I'm compromised?" replied Tony. "You think I can't hold my liquor?" he said, his voice rising.

"No. No. No Tony" she recovered. "I was just wondering if you'll be at your office should the press call or if you're gonna be here. It's already after 4, and we've been hitting it hard since after lunch."

"Three drinks an hour isn't hard Helen" said Tony. "We got here around 12:30."

"Yeah well, I gotta pee again" she retorted. "Are you a fucking camel?"

"I'm the boss over my bladder Helen" he said laughing.

"You wanna see someone piss himself? Wait until the feds and the press meet the Mayor on the steps of City Hall tonight."

"Even Greenpeace can't stop me from landing this whale."

Riganti looked at the empty tumbler before him and signaled the waitress.

'Never too early to celebrate' he thought.

It had been a nice stretch for the Mayor of Santa Ana. Ever since last August when he'd sold the house back to Carmine LaFrenza, through a third party, he'd been able to clear up all debts that weren't gifts, and still bank a hundred and fifty thousand.

He'd won re-election in November, and after that he couldn't be stopped at the craps tables or any other game of chance he attempted.

Hell, he'd even scored a scratch off for five thousand; and nobody wins those.

Maybe he'd try Publisher's Clearinghouse.

He was on a roll and he believed it would never end.

And why should it?

He figured this would be his last term anyway, and then he'd retire to Tybee Island, Georgia where the cost of living was 10.2% below the national average and the state was listed by Kiplinger's as one of the top ten most tax-friendly states for retirees. Hell, Social Security income there was exempt, and so was up to $65,000 of most types of retirement income. The state sales tax was only 4% and he could even qualify for a sizable deduction from property taxes. Plus, the island was over 95% white. He may be Hispanic but he didn't need to be constantly reminded of it.

He liked referring to Tybee as Los Bajos, the original name the Spanish had given to the island. It had been frequented by pirates from the early 1500's up to about 1700, so he figured purchasing a metal detector and scouring the land might keep him busy. That and scouting the chiquitas on the island's beaches.

That brought a smile to his face.

The ONLY problem was the state was a dry state in terms of gambling options; at least land based. The Emerald Princess Casino Cruise was the only gaming option in town, and the drive to get there was about two hours from his prospective Georgia home.

Ahh, he'd make do.

'If nothing else there was always scratch offs' he thought as he packed his bag to leave for the day.

Casting an eye toward the street he noticed an unusual amount of activity. Local news personalities were jumping from cars that were jockeying for position and running toward the building. National news vans with their satellite dishes on top of their vehicles were pulling up to the curb, each exploding in a flurry of activity.

He quickly checked his calendar in case he'd forgotten something.

No. It was clear.

'Oh well' he silently considered. 'Another nothing burger he'd be expected to discuss on camera'.

The challenges of being the benevolent Mayor of Santa Ana.