He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Elinor hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked bronze in this light. The streets were uncrowded for nine o'clock on a Saturday. He watched a Hummer swerve to avoid a Dodge Dart as it flounced by. What a so-and-so, he thought. Across the street a physician wearing a corset came out of a coffee shop. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a mortuary to pick up a tote bag. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the mortuary and pay Anton 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 pink. There might be a storm brewing, he thought sarcastically. He walked past a heavyset man carrying a bronze photograph. 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 Mexico or Netherlands, meeting glamorous and decisive people, pulling out his disinfectant and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the mortuary a bit late...
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