Someone's Cheating Indian Wife

It was obvious there had been some kind of dustup in the police department, since Duncan was no longer a detective, but his reports were superb and Roger hadn't seen any need to interview him before the trial.Considering that the accused seemed to want to confess every time anybody talked to her, it seemed very straightforward, though. It was really open and closed, just like the reports seemed to be.He anticipated few bumps in the road.He started with the traffic investigation of the incident that day, calling Officer Robert Duncan to the stand. In many cases, he just would have just asked the witness to describe the investigation. In this instance, however, his questions were precise. Roger wanted the jury to learn as little about Mr. Kinneson as possible. He did not, for example, want them to know that Kinneson had died in a stolen car, after being chased for miles by half a dozen troopers and cops who suspected him of just having raped the woman whose car he'd stolen."Officer. Menopause?” The last word was almost whispered.I sat there, speechless. He actually thought I was going through menopause? This fucking clueless moron. I started feeling better about my outburst. He deserved it.“I’m forty-six, you mother-fucker,” I hissed through clenched teeth.“I can still have kids for years. Unlike you, you fucking waste of space. When was the last time you got it up without a blue pill??” I sneered at him. It was all coming out now.He was taken aback. “I thought ... when we used those, it was...”“It was what? Great? An all-nighter? Fuck. You waste most of those anyway, cos you just roll over when you are done and start snoring. What the fuck? You think you’re some great lover? Casanova?”I wasn’t being quite fair here, there were times when he still had to peel me off the ceiling, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. They were few and far between and in the last year, rarer than finding rocking-horse shit. And to totally honest, it’s not like I instigated it.
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