Crispin's day started pretty much the same way it usually did these days, and while that may seem mundane to some it was just fine as far as he was concerned. Crispin preferred the predictable routine over the chaos of the life that he used to have. His days of screaming out the door to miserably ride crowded subways only to barely make it on time just to be yelled at by a boss that also didn't want to be there either were now a distant memory. Sad reflections that were now in the rear-view mirror and happily left behind. Crispin's day now started with the sound of the waves crashing in beaches, and usually with the sun beaming light over the massive ocean that was his favorite neighbor. After having a cup of Chai and guacamole toast, Crispin put on some sandals, and casually strolled over to the shop only wearing a dress shirt and khakis shorts. The surf shop was owned by his roomie, Gary, who preferred to be referred to as Smasher for his love of smashing the waves. Smasher could always be found at the beach this time of the morning, hitting the waves before anyone was even up. As a part of their rental agreement, Crispin agreed to open the surf shop for Smasher every morning and would run it for the first few hours of the day while waiting for Smasher to return. Once the surfer returned from the beach, Crispin would be free to retreat to his own office for the rest of the day. At the back of the surf shop was where Crispin's real job resided, as there was a small office that he used to run his own business as a private investigator. After being in operation for more almost a year, Crispin never had a client arrive before eleven which allowed Smasher to come up with their current agreement. This allowed the owner to take in some waves every morning and in return Crispin paid considerably less rent for his office, which helped greatly during his first several months as a P.I. by the beach. While he was at it, Crispin would also clean up the shop and reorganize the shelves, as he preferred to earn his discount rather than just vegging out in an empty shop reading magazines about surfing. He also liked to organize the surf boards by color, which always upset Smasher because he had his own way of organizing them. Smasher always hated to arrive and see his wall of boards look like a rainbow and would occasionally put them back the way he wanted when he felt like it. It was a battle of wits that Crispin felt he was slowly winning as Smasher was not putting the boards back as often as he used to. 

 That morning Crispin didn't bother to organize the boards, as he was using the internet to look up information on a mark he was tracking, and that's when she strolled into the shop.

 "Can I help you?" Crispin asked without even looking up.

 When he eventually did glace at her, this was the last person one would expect to see in this kind of surf shop. The lady was older than he was, at least mid-fifties, and was wearing designer clothing that no respectable surfer would ever be caught dead in. This led Crispin to assume this client might be for him but preferred to wait and see what response the lady gave to his open inquiry.

 "My name is Addison Jones," she calmly replied, "And I think I might be in the wrong building."

 "Who are you looking for?" Crispin asked her.

 "I'm looking for a private investigator," Addison replied.

 "Then you're in luck," Crispin said, gesturing the back room. "My name is Crispin Mills, and I run a private investigating agency out of an office in the back, which will actually open up in less than an hour."

 "Oh, I see." Addison said, checking her watch. Something Crispin didn't see much of these days thanks to current technologies. "Do you mind if I wait in the back? I don't feel like browsing around here. No offense."

 "None taken," Crispin replied, "The door is already open. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

 "Thank you," Addison said, as she walked towards the back area and into the office through the open door that Crispin had referred to. Now Crispin just had to wait for Smasher to show up so he could get back to his real job.