He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Beverly hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked colossal in this light. The streets were uncrowded for eight o'clock on a Sunday. He watched a Chevy Camaro swerve to avoid a Buick Le Sabre as it walked by. What a scalawag, he thought. Across the street a home executive wearing an Eton jacket came out of a train depot. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a cigar store to pick up a bag of ice. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the music store and pay Milo 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 khaki. There might be a storm brewing, he thought angrily. He walked past a stocky man carrying an electric smart phone. 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 the Sandwich Islands or Indonesia, meeting glamorous and pesky people, pulling out his pair of scissors and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the music store a bit late...
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