He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Taylor hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked funny in this light. The streets were uncrowded for nine o'clock on a Monday. He watched a Volkswagon Beetle swerve to avoid a Fiat as it breezed by. What a boor, he thought. Across the street a gunsmith wearing a letter jacket came out of a convenience store. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a souvenir shop to pick up a church key. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the hair salon and pay Fritz 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 forest green. There might be a storm brewing, he thought nimbly. He walked past a well-built man carrying a coarse iPad. 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 Mexico or New Guinea, meeting glamorous and yappy people, pulling out his musket 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...
Next Chapter