Sister-In-Law Surveillance

This was confirmed as Zayden was dropped off at his grandmother's house, and Sammi-Jo continued on her way into the main part of Port Adelaide, parking her car not far from the waterfront. Given Sammi-Jo was dressed in a pink lycra top and black lycra leggings, running shoes on her feet and that she carried a sports bag and water bottle one didn't have to be a PI to figure out her plans involved some type of fitness activity.

Sammi-Jo exited her car and met her personal trainer, me keeping in the distance but still in earshot. Her very expensive personal trainer, a very tall, extremely good-looking and heavily muscled black man whose fine physique was displayed courtesy of a tank top, his impressive manhood bulging at the front of his tight and very short shorts.

"Hey Tony, how are you?" Sammi-Jo's high-pitched voice called out as she approached her personal trainer.

While Tony was clearly of African origin, I wasn't sure of his country of origin until he opened his mouth and his strong American accent filled the Port Adelaide waterfront. "Hey Sammi-Jo, I was up all night thinking of ways to make your workout better this morning," Tony said.

"Really hard I hope so get really hot, you know I like it really hot and hard," giggled Sammi-Jo, flicking her blonde pony-tail in a flirtatious manner.

"I know you like it hot and hard, Sammi-Jo, why do you think I was up at night thinking of ways to get you hotter?" laughed Tony, the handsome African-American trainer clearly flirting with his client, and vice versa.

It was probably inappropriate for them to be flirting this way given Sammi-jo was a married woman, and my observant eyes picked up a gold wedding band on Tony's left ring finger, clearly he was married too. Still, they weren't doing anything wrong, and for the next hour it was clear that Tony's interest was not on Sammi-Jo's box, but rather how many box jumps she could do. I was pretty fit but it was clear that Sammi-Jo was fitter the way she and Tony worked out together doing a variety of exercises that would make even the most ardent cross-fitters look like couch potatoes.

Finally, panting and sweaty, Sammi-Jo and Tony wound up the personal training session. "Thanks so much Tony, I really enjoyed that," said Sammi-Jo, taking a swig from her water bottle.

"You're most welcome Sammi-Jo," said Tony in his American drawl.

I watched as the pretty petite Australian blonde helped the big black American man put some things back in his car, then wished him all the best as Tony drove away. This was all pretty innocent, just like in previous days. Sammi-Jo wasn't cheating on my brother.

Tired of wasting my time, I turned to leave thinking Sammi-Jo would head back to her car. She didn't and headed for the nearby female toilets. This didn't interest me - Sammi-Jo was going to the toilet big deal - until she reached into her bag and I saw her take out her phone. Had this been her normal smart phone, I wouldn't have been interested, however she instead took out a tiny flip-phone, the same one Mum had seen her with at Glenelg that day.

Walking quickly, I saw Sammi-Jo enter the female toilets and was close enough to hear her close and lock the door of one of the cubicles. Making sure I was walking quietly, I entered the ladies' room and could see Sammi-Jo's feet and lowered leggings under the partitions, the sound of her urinating into the toilet filling the bathroom.

The sound of Sammi-Jo peeing was not the only sound I heard, soon I heard her loud, high-pitched voice and broad Australian accent. "Hey baby, how are you?"

My suspicion meter went from orange to red. Never once had I ever heard Sammi-Jo call my brother 'baby'. She would have called Daniel on her proper phone. So who was she talking to?

"Going pee-pees," came Sammi-Jo's reply, whoever she was talking to evidently asking what she was doing. She then giggled. "Yeah, I know you like the sound of me pissing don't you? You dirty, bad boy. Just like you enjoy watching me piss in the shower with you after you fuck me, don't you?"

Sammi-Jo's pee stream died down and there was a flatulent noise from the toilet bowl, and she giggled hysterically. "No Dwayne, that wasn't what you thought it was. I farted from my front bottom, not my back bottom, it was a fanny-fart, a queef!"

Again, Sammi-Jo shrieked with laughter. "I don't know about hot! You're a weirdo Dwayne, who else but you would get their rocks off about a girl queefing while she's peeing on the toilet? Anyway, you keep that hard-on until I get up there, okay?"

I heard Sammi-Jo unwind some toilet paper from the roll, then the rustling sound of her scrunching it up. "Just wiping my pussy Dwayne, it's wet from my piss, but when I get up there and you get into my knickers, it's going to be wet for a different reason!"

Sammi-Jo flushed the toilet, and I retreated, my heart racing. All this I had recorded, and now I knew my parents were right. Sammi-Jo was up to no good, and she was talking to some guy called Dwayne on her second phone, setting up a meeting with him.

"See you soon baby, don't lose that erection!" Sammi-Jo laughed as she emerged from the toilet stall and I heard her washing her hands. She came out of the lavatory, putting her small phone back in her bag, and made for her car, unaware that she would be followed on her journey to her booty call wherever this may be.

Again, I had the challenge of keeping up with Sammi-Jo on the roads through busy Port Adelaide as she drove eastwards without making it obvious I was tailing her. She was a fast enough driver at the best of times, now that she was headed off to meet this Dwayne guy to have extramarital sex, she sped even faster, weaving in and out of traffic.

In Gepps Cross, I nearly lost track of her at a busy intersection before Sammi-Jo turned onto the motorway and drove north. I kept up with the little speed demon as she raced up the busy road, and she kept going and going and going until she reached the exit for the Elizabeth area, and turned off.

I continued to trail Sammi-Jo as she drove through these far northern Adelaide suburbs. At the risk of sounding snobby, some of the suburbs that comprised the satellite city of Elizabeth were not the best real estate in Adelaide, and I had become very familiar with this area from when I was a cop. Wondering where Sammi-Jo was headed as I followed her through some sketchy streets filled with weirdos and junkies, I soon found out as Sammi-Jo put on her indicator and turned into a caravan park.

This was not a nice caravan park, it was more like a trailer park from the Southern and Midwestern states of America, full of overgrown vegetation, junk and dilapidated caravans and other transportable dwellings. Heavy metal music blared from one of the vans. It wasn't a place I wanted to be and would definitely not want to be here after dark, but Sammi-Jo obviously wanted to be here.

I had already parked my hire car out of the way and was able to trail Sammi-Jo on foot without being seen. I think her vagina was her main concern, and even if there was a water buffalo or a rhinoceros following her she probably would not have seen it.

Sammi-Jo approached one run-down caravan, which had a confederate flag painted upon it and empty beer cans littering the outside, rubbish overflowing from a wheelie bin and a crappy car with a 'Fuck Off Fat Chicks' bumper sticker parked in front of it. Taking cover behind a bush, recording everything I watched as the caravan door opened and out stepped this tall, skinny guy who I presumed was this Dwayne bloke. This was confirmed when I heard Sammi-Jo call out, "Hey Dwayne!"

If scientists conducted some sort of experiment that involved mixing the DNA of trailer trash, rednecks and carnies from America, yobbos and chavs from some council estate in England, bogans from housing commissions in Australia and New Zealand and then crossed this with a baboon, Dwayne would likely be the result. I doubted Dwayne occupied much, if any of his time with a job.

With a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, Dwayne who sported an unkempt mullet hairstyle, a badly-maintained goatee beard and lots of tattoos which included a confederate flag and a swastika was attired in dirty jeans, desert boots and a black tee-shirt that definitely needed a wash. Actually, the tee-shirt didn't need to be washed, it needed to be burned, preferably with Dwayne still wearing it.

I had seen some offensive tee-shirts in my time, but Dwayne's shirt today took the cake. The words on the front; 'I LIKE AIDS, AIDS KILLS FAGS' and 'I LIKE EBOLA, EBOLA KILLS BLACKS' showed what kind of a sick, fucked-up person Dwayne was, and he confirmed this a few seconds later when after grunting a greeting to Sammi-Jo and finishing his smoke, chucking the butt on the ground with many others and scratching his balls, he took a swig of beer, sculled it, then belched as loudly as he possibly could right into Sammi-Jo's face.

Dwayne didn't look like he was a great fan of toothbrushes, toothpaste, dental floss and mouthwash so coupled with his smoking and the beer I hated to think how bad his burp would have smelled, but Sammi-Jo thought it very funny, giggling inanely, and somehow some bogan burping into her face was a turn on to her. No wonder I was a lesbian.

Sammi-Jo and Dwayne embraced and began to make out, their hands roaming all over each other. Dwayne looked like he had the same philosophy as some Medieval king who boasted that he had only three baths in his life and probably didn't expend much of his dole on soap or deodorant, while Sammi-Jo had done an intense personal training session and not showered, so she was pretty sweaty and smelly too, not that it seemed to bother Dwayne nor my cheating sister-in-law.

In my cover of poorly maintained vegetation I filmed the evidence of Sammi-Jo's infidelity, watching the two of them French-kissing, Sammi-Jo stroking Dwayne's expanding groin and Dwayne putting one of his hands down the back of Sammi-Jo's lycra leggings and her panties, fondling her bum and having a good rummage around inside her knickers.

That they were outside in full view didn't seem to bother either of them. This caravan park was the sort of place where you minded your own business, unless you wanted to get your head smacked in. And by the look of Dwayne he was the sort of person who would be as happy to smash you in the face as to shake your hand.

It was Sammi-Jo who was the first to realize that they were out in the open. "I think we need to get a room," she said.

"Yeah, but it's hot to fuck you outside," said Dwayne. "Remember the time I fucked you on the bonnet of my fucking car?" Dwayne indicated his bogan-mobile.

"I'm a married woman remember?" Sammi-Jo teased.

"That's what makes you even hotter," Dwayne grunted, staring at her tits through her lycra top and sports bra.

"Yeah, cheating does make it hotter," agreed Sammi-Jo. "But still, best to be careful."

"Why, your husbands not suss or nothing, is he?" Dwayne asked.

"Doesn't have a fucking clue, he's not coming up here to bash you with his cricket bat, don't worry," said Sammi-Jo confidently. "He thinks the only reason my knickers come down is when I'm changing my clothes, when I need to sit on the toilet or when I'm going to fuck him. The best thing about my husband is he brings home lots of money for me to spend, and he's good in bed but you fuck me better. Sometimes when my husband fucks me, I pretend it's you screwing my arse off."

'You materialistic little bitch,' I thought to myself, making sure I had all this recorded. One of the advantages of modern technology was that it was easier to conceal and more powerful.

Sammi-Jo and Dwayne went into the caravan and closed the door behind them. The only type of air-conditioning the crappy caravan looked to have was by opening a window, and this was done accordingly to provide plenty of ventilation for coitus.

Glad I was wearing the bogan/goth style clothes today which made me blend in, and not the older lady clothes yesterday that might have made me a target in this fucking awful place, I snuck behind some overgrown bracken ferns, so I could hear and hopefully record what was going on.

This wasn't hard. Dwayne laughing and declaring to Sammi-Jo, "I can see your crack," presumably as they were undressing was a sign of things to come. They were a noisy pair, sounding like a pair of copulating pigs, Dwayne grunting like a boar and Sammi-Jo squealing as there was a creaking noise from the bed.

Pigs however didn't use the words 'shit', 'fuck' and 'cunt' in every sentence. Sammi-Jo and Dwayne did, me hearing my slut of a sister-in-law urging Dwayne to 'Fuck my cunt, fuck the shit out of me, Dwayne you weak mother fucker!' and Dwayne yelling out, 'Fuck me harder you little cunt or I'll shove my dick up the place you where shit, Sammi-Jo, come on do it you fucking little slut bitch!'

Charming, did my brother know what he was married to? I recorded their screaming, swearing orgasms before Sammi-Jo declared, "You want to see me suck the jizz out of your condom? Yeah of course you fucking do!"

"Fuck, that's so hot," Dwayne declared. "You're such a slut, Sammi-Jo."

Being called a slut was obviously a compliment to my brother's skanky wife. "Yeah, I know I am," she declared proudly.

I was already in another hiding place to watch them emerge from the caravan, Sammi-Jo barefoot and in Dwayne's oversized tee-shirt that declared how much he liked AIDS killing homosexuals, and Ebola killing black people.

Dwayne was now wearing only a pair of football shorts, and his torso displayed more tattoos, such as one shaped like an anti-smoking sign only with the word 'FAGGOTS' inside it, and another one on his back that had something to do with the Ku Klux Klan. Sammi-Jo had a gay male cousin Chris and a black personal trainer, who she had been working out with this morning. I wonder what they would think of her secret boyfriend, or Sammi-Jo wearing that tee-shirt?

Dwayne was carrying some clothes and Sammi-Jo got a towel and her sports bag out of her car, presumably with clean clothes in it. They then made their way to the nearby shower and toilet block, Dwayne teasingly lifting up Sammi-Jo's tee-shirt to show she was commando underneath, her lack of underwear displaying her bare bottom.

"Stop it, or I won't piss in the shower in front of you or suck your cock," Sammi-Jo giggled.

"I'll be good, I swear," Dwayne laughed.

I filmed them as they went up to the male toilets and showers, and got another shot of them kissing before they went inside to get up to more perverted, adulterous shit.

There wasn't much point hanging around here, I had all the evidence I needed that my sister-in-law was a cheating whore who was having an affair with a disgusting bogan and who saw my brother as an ATM. I had seen so many bizarre things in my careers as a police officer and now as a PI, but what I had seen this morning shocked me.

Returning to my hire car, relieved that nothing had happened to it, I started the engine and drove back to Adelaide, my mind all over the place as I processed what I had seen and what I was going to do about it. The sunny morning now had some clouds in the sky, and the weather changed throughout the afternoon to overcast and humid. In late afternoon, with me dressed in my fitness clothes and driving to the River Torrens, large spots of rain were falling.

Rain continued to fall as I pounded the pavements on both sides of the river, the lights of the city buildings illuminated as twilight turned to darkness, South Australia now back on Central Standard Time after putting the clocks back at the end of daylight savings a few weeks ago. Some bats flew past and lighting filled the dark clouds accompanied with distant thunder, making for a tropical and eerie evening in Adelaide, the full moon seen intermittently as the clouds passed in front of it.

Mostly I thought about Sammi-Jo and her cheating on Daniel with Dwayne, but a large mystery persisted. Many of the observations that caused my parents to suspect their daughter-in-law of infidelity involved unexplained cash, something I had seen myself. I doubted Dwayne had much cash, unless he was thrifty with his dole money. So what else was going on?

*

I was curious enough to again be parked up the street from Sammi-Jo and Daniel's house again the next morning, again disguised as an older woman, the overnight rain having cleared to an overcast and humid day across Adelaide.

Right on schedule, Sammi-Jo emerged from her house dressed in sunglasses and a short little summer dress with sandals, her kids in tow. Heaven and Neveah were dropped off at pre-school and Zayden at day care, and I noticed Sammi-Jo walk to the corner after walking Zayden inside. She retrieved her phone from her bag, again the small flip phone and not the standard smart phone, had a brief conversation with somebody, then returned to her car.

I expected her to head north for Elizabeth again for another booty call with her loser bogan boyfriend, but this time my brother's wife drove south. Again struggling to keep up with her on the roads, we soon were in Adelaide's southern beaches, in the Onkaparinga region named after the river of the same name that emptied into the sea a bit further south.

Thinking back to the case with Mr. and Mrs. Blunt at work, I thought about how when Mr. Blunt had come to this area it was to secretly watch children's cartoons at a library in Noarlunga. Somehow, I doubted Sammi-Jo was coming here to watch cartoons at the library.

She turned into Christie's Beach, a suburb that was in stark contrast to the caravan park where Dwayne lived. With stunning ocean views of Gulf St. Vincent, many of these fine houses near the sea commanded such prices that if one had to ask how much one was, then one could not afford one in a million years.

It was into one of these houses that Sammi-Jo turned, and I watched the little trollope as she got out of her car, me seeing that she was wearing white knickers as her short little dress rode up. Keeping well back, I watched Sammi-Jo walk to the front door and ring the doorbell.

The door was answered by a tall, fit, middle-aged man who wore white trousers, an open shirt that showed much of his hairy chest, and a sea-captain's hat on his head. My first impression of the man, sleazy. Although I reminded myself that should be more objective, this might be an innocent visit. Perhaps Sammi-Jo was here to see his wife, or maybe he was a director of a company Sammi-Jo influenced for?

Sammi-Jo and the man went inside the opulent house and closed the door, and I noticed that in their letter-box a magazine about sailing was protruding. Acting casually, I 'accidentally' knocked the magazine out of the mailbox as I walked by, noting the names on the address, 'Mr. Derek and Mrs. Leonie Travers'.

I looked up the names on my phone as I looked for a way I could get a better look at the house and avoid being captured on security camera, and found that they were a wealthy couple as to be expected with a house like this, and were very much into sailing, social media pictures of them on their expensive yacht, explaining Derek's sea captain's hat. Leonie herself was an attractive woman, slim and aged approximately in her late 40s, with her brown hair in a pixie-bob style, much like my ex-girlfriend.

With such an attractive wife, why would Derek be fooling around with a slut like Sammi-Jo? Then again, it could be innocent. Maybe Derek and Leonie were older parents, or young grandparents and that's how they knew Sammi-Jo? Possibly, but their social media had no mention of children nor grandchildren.

The rear of the house backed onto some parkland, and fortuitously there was a patch of vegetation that would allow me to look at the back of Derek and Leonie's house without being seen. Hoping there were no paper wasps, redback spiders or snakes in the plants, I went in there and looked into the back of the property.