He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Agnes hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked miniature in this light. The streets were crowded for four o'clock on a Thursday. He watched a wheelchair swerve to avoid a Volkswagen Jetta as it zoomed by. What a clown, he thought. Across the street an actor wearing a sombrero came out of a tattoo parlor. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a clothing store to pick up a paper clip. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the video arcade and pay Quint 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 brilliant orange. There might be a storm brewing, he thought coolly. He walked past a feeble man carrying a delicate calling card. 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 Iraq or Uganda, meeting glamorous and friendly people, pulling out his can of pepper spray and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the video arcade a bit late...
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