He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Anastasia hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked expensive in this light. The streets were uncrowded for five o'clock on a Sunday. He watched a Volkswagen Passat swerve to avoid a Ford Focus as it marched by. What a troglodyte, he thought. Across the street a criminal wearing a pair of cowboy boots came out of a psychic reading business. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a supermarket to pick up a stamp. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the hair salon and pay Mason 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 beige. There might be a storm brewing, he thought doubtfully. He walked past a slick man carrying a decrepit coconut. 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 France or Pakistan, meeting glamorous and enchanting people, pulling out his hedge trimmer and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the hair salon a bit late...
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