Dream a little dream

Still no luck on finding Son of X. But I had a strange dream last night that involved both Mrs. X and Son of X. It's stuck in my head - usually I forget my dreams a few minutes after I wake up, but not this one.

We were on a wooden dance floor. There was music playing. Old time music. Mrs. X stood in front of my wearing a shimmering blue dress. We stepped forward and took each others hands and then we started to dance. As we danced around the floor, I saw Son of X. He was dancing too, but he was dancing with a large wooden doll. We spun and dipped and twirled and he did the same with the doll.

Suddenly, the ceiling was gone - it wasn't there anymore. And I saw that we were all suspended with strings, all our limbs were controlled by long threads that went upwards. And the moon was full and we danced.

We danced by the light of the moon.

It's a clue, Scooby.

I managed to get Mrs. X to send me her son's latest credit card bill and find out where he's been spending money.

He hasn't used his credit card for the past week, but the last time was at a grocery store. I went there and showed some of the cashiers Son of X's photo. One of them said she saw him.

"The only reason I remember him is because he was acting so funny," she said. "Like, he was walking funny, very stiff. I asked him if he was okay and he said he was fine. But he was carrying this little wooden doll with him - he was carrying it in his shirt pocket. It looked kind of weird."

He hasn't used the card since, so either he has enough food to last the week or he's getting money some other way. I don't know about the doll thing, though - it sounds as if he's taking drugs or something, but I've never heard of drugs making someone walk stiffly or carry a doll. Maybe a psychological break? Have to ask Mrs. X if her son had mental problems.

Complications

So this job isn't as easy as it sounds.

Turns out, none of the friends of Son of X have seen him. They don't know where he is. I called in a favor from one of my police contacts and Son of X's name has not come up in any investigation or criminal activity, so that's good at least.

Why are things always complicated? Why do things never go as we plan?

Well, you know what they say: man plans, God laughs.

Got a new job today

A woman walked in - I'll call her Mrs. X for now, since I don't think my clients would like it if their anonymity was broken in a blog - and hired me to help her find her son. Son of X ran away two weeks ago to live in the big city, but Mrs. X is worried about him and wants to know he's alright. He's an adult, so she can't go to the police for help. Turns out, she flipped open the Yellow Pages and found my name - which is good, since it must have been an old Yellow Pages, since I stopped paying for it a few months ago.

Anyway, she gave me his name, a snapshot of him, and a list of his friends in the area. She doesn't want me to force him to go home, she just wants to know if he's okay, where he's living, things like that. I gave her my usual rates and she handed me a check.

It's good to be in business.

Finally

Got the money shot. I can finally stop with the stakeout. Stupid husband, having sex with the blinds open. Remember kids: always close your blinds before cheating with a hooker.

And now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

The other half? Booze.

The beginning

I'm starting this blog because, well, I'm bored. Stakeouts are inherently boring. You sit there and you watch. You keep watching until something happens. Oftentimes, this takes hours and hours. Sometimes, this takes days.

I've been sitting here for twelve hours watching for a cheating spouse. It's not the most glamorous gig I've had, but it pays the bills. Yet the increasing boredom has gotten to me, thus this blog.

Go on, internet, amuse me.