He walked out of his building, still pondering the case. Kyra hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he had plenty to think about. The buildings of the city looked electronic in this light. The streets were crowded for three o'clock on a Tuesday. He watched a Volvo swerve to avoid an MG convertible as it capered by. What a scoundrel, he thought. Across the street a high school teacher wearing an Armani suit came out of a McDonalds. You don't see that very often anymore. His first stop was at a malt shop to pick up a bowl. No luck; they were sold out. Well, no time like the present to stop by the bike shop and pay Marcus 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 rose. There might be a storm brewing, he thought admiringly. He walked past a plain man carrying a dusty artificial flower. 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 Jamaica or Cuba, meeting glamorous and spindly people, pulling out his stash of bribe money and whacking anyone who got in his way. Sorry to disappoint them; his worst problem was boredom.
He arrived at the bike shop a bit late...
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