He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Holly hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked brittle in this light. The streets were uncrowded for ten o'clock on a Thursday. He watched a buggy swerve to avoid an Infiniti as it careened by. What a traitor, he thought. Across the street a mediator wearing a gladiator helmet came out of a laboratory. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a sandwich shop to pick up a cookbook. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the haberdashery and pay Frankie 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 golden. There might be a storm brewing, he thought victoriously. He walked past an angelic man carrying a thick fountain pen. 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 Easter Island or Poland, meeting glamorous and creepy people, pulling out his dart gun and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the haberdashery a bit late...
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