As a P.I., how did you finally catch the cheating medical doctor husband?
“As a P.I., how did you finally catch the cheating medical doctor husband?”
The wife called me and told me that she and her medical husband had been separated for the last six months, after she found him having an affair with his sexy blonde office manager.
But now, he told her that the affair was done. Finished. He wanted to come back home and be with her and their children again. He also wanted his wife to call off the divorce.
“Somehow, I just don’t believe him,” the wife told me. “I think he’s still seeing that b — — . I’ll take him back IF he’s truly done with her! But you need to find out for me!”
The wife instructed me call her, anytime of the day or night — as soon as I found something out.
It was a long week of nothingness. I carefully watched the front door of his apartment for one week. During this long week, I saw nothing, nothing at all. No one entered. No one exited, except for the medical doctor himself.
This was a very, very tricky case to pull off, because he had rented an apartment in one of those gated communities.
So, how had I been able to observe him for one week without being noticed? And how did I get inside?
Well, I followed another car into the community and I was able to get in before the gate slammed down on my car. I then offered some money to some college students who also lived in this gated apartment complex. They gave me the pass code to the gate. They also gave me permission to set out on their front lawn, in a lawn chair, and pretend I was reading books, taking notes, and studying on my lap top.
Finally, the weekend came. It was a Friday night. Again, there seemed to be no activity. Perhaps I had missed something.
“Did you find anything yet?” the wife inquired by phone.
“No, nothing,” I told her.
She said, “I really think the b — — is inside his apartment right now. Can’t you just go knock on the door and see if she’s there?”
I wasn’t about to risk that, but this gave me a good idea.
The doctor’s front door was actually across from a wooded area. I now moved my position and staked out in the wooded area, behind a tree, and just watched and waited, watched and waited while getting eaten up by mosquitoes.
Finally, it dawned on me. I hired a fellow P.I. of mine and asked him to come and take over my spot in the woods.
“Bring some mosquito repellant with you,” I instructed him.
Then I went to Pizza Hut and bought a large vegetarian pizza.
Then, I went back home and slipped into my favorite Pizza Hut costume.
It was pretty late on a Friday night when I knocked on the doctor’s front door, toting the pizza, dressed up in an authentic pizza delivery outfit, cap included.
Sure enough, clad in only his boxer shorts and a t-shirt, he opened the front door, after I had been knocking awhile. The blonde was with him, clad in a bathrobe, peeking over his shoulder.
“Here ya go, sir,” I said, handing him the pizza. “That’ll be $24.15.”
The doctor looked confused.
“I didn’t order a pizza.”
“Really???” I replied, feigning shock.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that my P.I. bud was videotaping the entire scene.
“Well, hold on! Let me call my boss and let you talk to him! I don’t want to get into trouble for this!”
“Okay,” the doctor complied.
“Oh, no! My phone is dead! You wouldn’t happen to have a cell phone I could borrow, would you?”
The doctor cooperated, came back with his cell, while his girlfriend stood in the open doorway alone, being openly (unbeknownst to her) filmed.
When the doctor returned with his cell phone I said, “Thanks, but never mind. I just need to go talk with the manager! The idiots that take the phone orders are always making these types of mistakes! Wrong address! Ugh!!! Have a good night!”
Back inside my car, I quickly dialed the wife.
“Well, you told me to call you, no matter how late it is.”
“Yes!” she replied, enthusiastically.
“Did you get something?”
“Yes, I did!” and I told her what had just transpired.
“Well, come over right now!” she said. “I’ll even pay you extra!”
It was now about one o’clock in the morning.
She was having a little wine and cheese party with some of her girlfriends. We hooked up the camera to her big screen TV and all the girls laughed wildly and applauded while they watched the girlfriend in the bathrobe and the doctor, with the strange, demure, confused looks on their faces.
“You’re the best!!! You’re the absolute best!” she announced, clapping her hands together, while her girlfriends also joined in with more applause.
And then she handed me a $200 tip and I took the film out of my camera and handed it to her.
It had been a long week, and I was covered in mosquito bites, but my client was happy.
And I went home. And yes, the pizza was delicious.
And no, she did not call off that divorce.