That's Not My Wife

I light a cigarette and call over to the Inspector, “Crap gas?”  He gives me a dirty look, like what do I know.  I’m just the junior-grade detective who brought in the dame.

No, Inspector Chan tells us like an encyclopedia, Capgras, after the French psychiatrist who discovered it.  “It’s when you think a close relative or spouse has been replaced by an imposter, an exact double.  I have seen this in people with Alzheimer’s or bi-polar disorder,” he says.  “Go look it up, Junior Detective Huang.”

The American shouts bullshit.  Three times.  He says, “I came back from dinner to find a counterfeit in my hotel room, not even a good look-alike of the person I love, my dear Mei-Yuan.  Why can’t anyone see this isn’t my wife?  You must find my real wife, Inspector.”

“Well, if you had her passport or some photos,” Inspector Chan offers.

“She took her passport.  I don’t have any pictures or know anyone in Hong Kong!  You think I bring a photo album on my vacation?”

Time to get a coffee, I think, but I turn to the guy.  “How come her fingerprints match those on the glass where she brushed her teeth?” I ask.  “Huh?  How come her clothes fit?  How come, Mr. Chinese-American Wiseguy?  It’s your old lady and I found her.”





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)