Most people go through a trial and error process when it comes to finding a suitable career. I am no exception. My name is Jason Duffy. I run a detective agency in La Jolla, California.

I thought I was destined to become a rock star. By the age of 14 I was a working musician and, four years later, the lead singer/rhythm guitarist for a top San Diego club band. But, eventually I realized that I had no aptitude for songwriting.

So, I hedged my career bets by earning degrees in Psychology and Counseling, then went on to work as a mental health counselor for two years. But, detective work was in my blood. You see, my father was one of the most decorated detectives in the San Diego Police Department. There was no shortage of intriguing crime stories at our dinner table and always an abundance of Irish-American cops visiting our home on weekends.

But, the Duffy household was no Shangri-La. Dad hated the idea that I was a rock & roll musician and blamed Mom for buying my first guitar. Most of his spare time during my teenage years was spent at his favorite cop bar, and I experienced a lot of guilt over my mother’s alienation. When we were at home together, the only thing that kept us from bickering was our mutual enjoyment of TV crime shows. Dad would invariably do a post mortem on the plots and characters, and I was always enthralled.

Almost everyone I know was shocked when I quit my counseling job and my band to start an apprenticeship as a PI three years ago. Dad retired from the force around that same time. Last year I started Duffy Investigations. My assistant, Jeannine, is a former mental health client who suffers from obsessive-compulsive disorder. Another former client, Cory, works for me part-time as a photographer and stakeout specialist.

We may not be anyone’s idea of a normal business. But, after a year of working cases in the high society of La Jolla, I’ve decided that normality is now just a cozy ideal of past generations. My girlfriend, Kelly, thinks I’m well adjusted. But, then again, she describes herself as the Marilyn Munster of her family.

So, here I am in beautiful downtown La Jolla. Jeannine keeps my office neat as a pin, and Cory spares me the depressing indignity of spying on unfaithful spouses. I read in this morning’s paper that a rock star was just killed in a local recording studio. My first murder case could be just around the corner.