“Mark, come in here.” Sutton is sitting at his desk shuffling through the piles of papers that he considers his filing cabinet. He looks congenial and I hate to ruin his mood but I have been working for Sutton for about three months now and it is high time that he gets my name right.”

“It’s Matt.” I say stepping into his office.

“Oh yes, of course, Matt. Well come in here. We have a new assignment.” That explained his good mood this morning. Business had been scarce. I have even been afraid that if things did not pick up soon then I would have to be let go. I thought of my studio apartment that I was struggling to keep and knew that I could not lose this job.

Sutton didn’t wait for me to ask what the new assignment was, he immediately started to fill me in. “We had a call this morning from none other than Julia Whitestone.” He says her name with a reverence and I nod my head encouragingly, even though I have no idea who Julia Whitestone is. “She is hiring us to watch her . . . “

“Husband!” I interrupt.

Sutton scowls, “No, I was going to say dog.”

“Her what?” I can absolutely not believe what I am hearing. How can this be a real assignment?

“Mitzi is her prized show dog and she believes that she has gentleman caller visiting her at all hours of the day. She has asked that we come and investigate.”

A laugh almost escapes my throat and I have to bury my face in my coffee mug to hide it.

“Now we are not to approach the said gentleman caller. We are just to observe and report. If anything nefarious is happening, we are just to alert Mrs. Whitestone and she will take it up with the proper authorities.” Sutton continues in a serious tone.

“Why yes, absolutely.” I am nodding my head into my coffee mug. “I’ll be happy to let the dog catcher take matters from there.”

“Excellent!” Sutton stands up enthusiastically from his chair and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. “Let’s get a move on.”

Five hours later and we are still parked outside of the Whitestone residence. There has been no activity and no signs of the perpetrator. I’m busying myself with a crossword puzzle and Sutton is snoring in the driver’s seat next to me. I grab another handful of sunflower seats and toss them into my mouth, spitting the shells out of my open window. All of a sudden there is a commotion from the side of the house.

“Sutton.” I shake my employer’s arm. No response. “Sutton!” I say again, louder this time and shaking his arm more insistently. Finally his eyelids flutter open.

“What is it?” he asks through the drool that his dripped down his stubbly chin.”

“I think I heard something.” He nods and opens his door. I get out of the passenger side and close the door just in time to hear the commotion again. Now Sutton and I are both running for the side of the house.

“Do you have your gun, Meyer?” Sutton asks me as we near the gate.

“No.” Is all I manage to get out of my mouth. Sutton should know better. We have never done anything exciting enough to warrant either of us carrying a gun, and then there is the small matter of my name. Doesn’t matter, we are opening up the gate and Sutton is holding his hands up as if he is holding a weapon at arms length. He looks absolutely ridiculous but I don’t have time to mention this as I am far too distracted by the set of eyes staring at us from the top of a trash can. Two dark, shiny eyes in the center of a dark mask. A raccoon. It has an upside down triangle shaped face and two little ears. It’s body is dark, with a stripped tale and it is wringing it’s little hands in nervous anticipation.

“It’s just a raccoon.” I say relieved.

“Are you sure it’s a raccoon.” Sutton asks me, fingers still pointed at the animal as if he could really pull the trigger.

“Yes, I am sure.” I say turning around and giving Sutton a pat on the shoulder. “All Mrs. Whitestone needs to do is set some traps.”

“Ah yes, well, excellent work Mike.” I shake my head, ready to give up on the name thing for the day and try again tomorrow.

“How about we see if we missed any calls. Maybe tomorrow we can hunt down a fox.” I joke as we walk back to Sutton’s honda civic.

“Oh I doubt that very much. Foxes are very clever animals.” Sutton tells me.

I close my eyes. I need this job, I need this job. “Yes, that they are Mr. Sutton.”