It all started on a Saturday morning. I was sitting at my desk, legs up, as is the casual style, when a middle aged woman came through my doorway, sobbing.

"Woah, woah, woah," I told her, which probably wasn't the best way to start a conversation with a lady who looked as if she had just lost her husband in a creepy abandoned mall.

"What's the matter?" I asked, popping a cigar into my mouth. After calming down, she told me the story.

"I need to file a missing persons report, but the police won't do it for me. I-I-I've lost my husband!" she stuttered, bursting into tears. This was starting to get good, I needed some money after all, business had been slow recently.

"Where did you last see him?" I asked, in my most nonchalant voice I had, pulling out a notepad. She stuttered, trying to think, but finally came up with the answer.

"Um, um, it was at the abandoned factory on Hill Street," she started crying big fat tears again, "We like exploring, so we broke into the factory, looking for adventure!"

'Holy coincidence!' I thought to myself, 'I almost predicted what had happened!' I tried to remain calm, even though I just discovered a rare ability called luck.

"Well ma'm," I responded, scolding her, "First off, you're not supposed to be in abandoned factories. Second, I can help you in your case. We'll discuss the fee later, but it'll be a pretty big one."

"Thank you soooo much!" she exclaimed, "no police would help at all, so I decided to look for a private investigator. I knew you would help!"

"Whoa there, don't get too worked up, I can't guarantee that I'll find him," I responded, so I wouldn't let her down if I couldn't come through.

'It is just an abandoned factory, though," I thought to myself, 'How hard could it be to find someone."

I was about to be proved very wrong.