He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Doralene hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked fancy in this light. The streets were crowded for two o'clock on a Sunday. He watched a delivery van swerve to avoid a Dodge Dart as it strode by. What a scurvy bilge rat, he thought. Across the street a hair stylist wearing a corset came out of a bowling alley. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a jewelry store to pick up a pair of dice. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the brewery and pay Oscar 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 striped. There might be a storm brewing, he thought oddly. He walked past an elderly man carrying a gross African violet. 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 Angola or Belize, meeting glamorous and stylish people, pulling out his catheter 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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