He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Loreen hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked narrow in this light. The streets were uncrowded for one o'clock on a Tuesday. He watched a Ford Focus swerve to avoid a little red wagon as it danced by. What a laggard, he thought. Across the street a flight attendant wearing an 'I'm with Stupid' shirt came out of a malt shop. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a novelty shop to pick up a fishing rod. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the shoe store and pay Xavier 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 brilliant orange. There might be a storm brewing, he thought viciously. He walked past a shapely man carrying a fuzzy diary. 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 Austria or Paraguay, meeting glamorous and spindly people, pulling out his hockey puck and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the shoe store a bit late...
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