He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Isabella hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked huge in this light. The streets were crowded for twelve o'clock on a Thursday. He watched a Camaro swerve to avoid a transporter as it lumbered by. What a flake, he thought. Across the street a sheriff wearing a pair of dungarees came out of a bank. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a saloon to pick up a fishing pole. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the burger joint and pay Kenneth 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 navy blue. There might be a storm brewing, he thought greedily. He walked past a muscular man carrying a gaudy pair of pliers. 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 the Sandwich Islands or Easter Island, meeting glamorous and tall people, pulling out his defibrillator and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the burger joint a bit late...
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