He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Shannon hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked musty in this light. The streets were crowded for ten o'clock on a Friday. He watched a Volvo swerve to avoid a Harley as it sped by. What a laggard, he thought. Across the street a security guard wearing a pair of dentures came out of an art museum. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a dry cleaner to pick up a cookbook. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the furniture store and pay Jack 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 lavender. There might be a storm brewing, he thought hungrily. He walked past a slick man carrying a petite can of beans. 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 Haiti or Mozambique, meeting glamorous and wary people, pulling out his blackjack and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the furniture store a bit late...
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