He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Charlotte hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked brittle in this light. The streets were uncrowded for eleven o'clock on a Tuesday. He watched a Mazda RX-7 swerve to avoid a MINI convertible as it sauntered by. What a fiend, he thought. Across the street a bank robber wearing a scarf came out of a bar. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a brewery to pick up a paper towel. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the brewery and pay Paul 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 indigo. There might be a storm brewing, he thought deftly. He walked past a small man carrying a plastic cotton ball. 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 Canada or Japan, meeting glamorous and mournful people, pulling out his can opener and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the brewery a bit late...
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