He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Bettie Lou hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked automatic in this light. The streets were crowded for twelve o'clock on a Sunday. He watched a Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow swerve to avoid a tricycle as it whirled by. What a moron, he thought. Across the street a curmudgeon wearing a body shirt came out of a grocery store. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a pizza joint to pick up a playing card. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the boutique and pay Pedro 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 sheepishly. He walked past an athletic man carrying a polka-dotted lemon. 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 Chile or Botswana, meeting glamorous and princely people, pulling out his butterfly net and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the boutique a bit late...
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