He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Bev hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked mysterious in this light. The streets were uncrowded for five o'clock on a Friday. He watched a limousine swerve to avoid a Lincoln as it slumped by. What a crazy person, he thought. Across the street a window washer wearing a military uniform came out of a bowling alley. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a dry cleaner to pick up a watering can. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the butcher shop and pay Rover 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 busily. He walked past a curvy man carrying an autographed bag of groceries. 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 Kosovo or Nepal, meeting glamorous and calm people, pulling out his can of pepper spray and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the butcher shop a bit late...
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