He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Eppie hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked frilly in this light. The streets were uncrowded for six o'clock on a Wednesday. He watched a Lincoln Town Car swerve to avoid a Suburu Outback as it bolted by. What an imbecile, he thought. Across the street a quarantine inspector wearing a corsage came out of a sandwich shop. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a movie theater to pick up a magazine. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the Starbucks and pay Dave a visit. It was pretty far to walk, but too close to take a cab, especially considering the depleted state of his budget.
The sky had a tinge of tan. There might be a storm brewing, he thought lazily. He walked past a white man carrying a damp ingot of plutonium. A bit unusual, but it probably meant nothing. As he walked, he felt other people staring at him. He glanced at the faces. If they knew he was a detective, they'd probably think he leads an exciting life, jetting to India or Australia, meeting glamorous and arrogant people, pulling out his Colt 45 and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the Starbucks a bit late...
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