He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Rose hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked big in this light. The streets were crowded for one o'clock on an alternate blue moon. He watched a panel truck swerve to avoid a chariot as it danced by. What a pook, he thought. Across the street a park ranger wearing a raincoat came out of a perfumery. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a butcher shop to pick up a microphone. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the fabric store and pay Ethan 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 camouflage. There might be a storm brewing, he thought sweetly. He walked past a winsome man carrying a shiny pair of scissors. 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 Indonesia, meeting glamorous and colorless people, pulling out his lead pipe and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the fabric store a bit late...
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