get @baffled

Even though it was raining heavily, he had the wipers set on the slowest speed. He sat there, staring out the rain-streaked window at the restaurant across the street. He had been there for a good couple of hours, waiting for her to come out. He didn't mind too much: he was making $225 an hour plus expenses to follow and photograph the every move of the very young and very attractive wife of the city's most influential businessman and property developer. This guy suspected his wife of cheating on him, and figured the best way to find out for sure was to hire one of the city's more obscure and reclusive private investigators.

So, here he was, sitting in his 1998 Pontiac Grand Am, smoking too many cigarettes, eating too many donuts and taking too many photographs of a young woman who was definitely getting into too much trouble.

He had been on this job for a week already, and there was no doubt in his mind that there was cheating going on. He had the photographs to prove it. Come to think of it, for an obscure and reclusive private investigator, he didn't look too bad in some of them.