He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Mabel hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked hefty in this light. The streets were uncrowded for eight o'clock on a Tuesday. He watched a U-Haul swerve to avoid a wood-paneled station wagon as it lurched by. What a clod, he thought. Across the street an invalid wearing a loincloth came out of a furniture store. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a pizza joint to pick up a ball. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the bakery and pay T.J. 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 aquamarine. There might be a storm brewing, he thought fondly. He walked past a blond man carrying an amazing floppy disk. 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 Canada or Mozambique, meeting glamorous and bald people, pulling out his pistol and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the bakery a bit late...
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