He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Faye hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked hand-carved in this light. The streets were crowded for ten o'clock on a Tuesday. He watched a rickshaw swerve to avoid a Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow as it waded by. What a clodhopper, he thought. Across the street a web guru wearing a pair of Reeboks came out of a café. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a deli to pick up a can of beans. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the insurance agency and pay Rutherford 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 black. There might be a storm brewing, he thought gingerly. He walked past a neat man carrying a huge saw. 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 Romania or Finland, meeting glamorous and princely people, pulling out his butcher knife and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the insurance agency a bit late...
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