The client called from way out in the Southwest. His ex-wife had wandered off to the hills of Tennessee to live with another man, and he was still writing her alimony checks every month. He needed proof of where she was living and with whom.
Out in those hills, a strange car sticks out like a lit match in a dark room. Every few minutes somebody rolled by on a four-wheeler or an ATV, slowed down, and leaned over.
"Y'all lost?"
"Just admiring the scenery," we'd say. That usually did the trick.
On this job, I had two professional photographers working surveillance with me. We were trying to lock down and verify the ex-wife's location. Then fate stepped in. Her new boyfriend wandered right up to one of my camera guys and asked him point-blank what he was doing.
My guy didn't blink. "Shooting old Southern barns," he said. "There are a lot of beautiful ones around here."
And as luck would have it, the boyfriend lit up. He shared that he owned a small arena where he hosted professional horse shows, along with a big old barn of his own. He then asked, "Would you like to photograph my place?"
My camera guy said, "We'd love to." He even mentioned he had another photographer with him, and a musician.
The musician was me. The next day, I showed up with my guitar.
We shot everything up close in 4K. The ex-wife walked all over that property, in front of our cameras, with no idea why we were really there. We made direct contact with both subjects, without any sense of threat and without raising suspicion. They cheerfully told us everything the client needed for proof.
Meanwhile, I sat on the front porch strumming my guitar and singing to the dogs. At one point I even serenaded a horse.
What would have been a failed surveillance job became the smoothest undercover operation I've ever been part of. Sometimes the best cover story is the one that just happens to be true.