He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Deb hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked gross in this light. The streets were uncrowded for six o'clock on a Wednesday. He watched a Dodge Viper swerve to avoid a handcart as it slithered by. What a dumbbell, he thought. Across the street a physical therapist wearing an earring came out of a tattoo parlor. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a movie theater to pick up a bag of groceries. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the art museum and pay Pedro 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 pink. There might be a storm brewing, he thought caustically. He walked past an obese man carrying a tiny Rubik's cube. 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 Georgia or Vietnam, meeting glamorous and rugged people, pulling out his brick and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the art museum a bit late...
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