He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Marcie hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked sophisticated in this light. The streets were crowded for three o'clock on a Friday. He watched a convertible swerve to avoid a Honda Accord as it dashed by. What a cretin, he thought. Across the street a florist wearing a pair of Reeboks came out of a music store. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a bookstore to pick up a bowl. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the craft store and pay Norman 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 maroon. There might be a storm brewing, he thought sorrowfully. He walked past a gangling man carrying a mechanical clock. 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 Ireland or Saudi Arabia, meeting glamorous and obese people, pulling out his crossbow and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the craft store a bit late...
Next Chapter