He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Leah hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked tiny in this light. The streets were uncrowded for eight o'clock on a Thursday. He watched a bicycle swerve to avoid a forklift as it inched by. What a stalker, he thought. Across the street a telephone operator wearing a jerkin came out of a psychic reading business. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a gift shop to pick up a Barbie doll. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the pub and pay Anthony 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 chocolate brown. There might be a storm brewing, he thought jokingly. He walked past a pale man carrying a cheap chart. 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 Hungary or Spain, meeting glamorous and sassy people, pulling out his butterfly net and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the pub a bit late...
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