He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Elsie hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked mechanical in this light. The streets were crowded for four o'clock on an alternate blue moon. He watched a Dodge Charger swerve to avoid a limousine as it leapt by. What a terror, he thought. Across the street a woodworker wearing a pair of sandals came out of a pharmacy. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a pizza parlor to pick up an ironing board. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the bus station and pay Butch 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 azure. There might be a storm brewing, he thought anxiously. He walked past a suave man carrying a tiny twig. 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 Jamaica or Hungary, meeting glamorous and gentle people, pulling out his torpedo and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the bus station a bit late...
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