“I don’t know what I want,” Lula said. “How can I choose? There’s too much, and I only got one doughnut. I can’t be making a mistake on this. This is critical. I could ruin the whole rest of the day if I pick the wrong doughnut.”

I had my doughnuts bagged and paid for and Lula was still undecided, so I went outside to wait in the morning sunshine. I was debating which of the two doughnuts I’d eat first, and before I reached a decision, Morelli’s green SUV rolled to a stop in front of me.

Morelli got out and walked over. His black hair was curling along his neck and over his ears, not by design but by neglect. He was wearing jeans and running shoes and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled. At six foot, he was half a head taller than me, which meant if he stood close enough he could look down my tank top.

“Are you working?” I asked him.

“Yeah. I’m riding up and down the street doing cop things.” He hooked his finger into my scoop neckline and looked in.

“Jeez,” I said.

“It’s been a while. I wanted to make sure everything was still there.”

“You could ask!”

“If I guess what’s in the bakery bag, do I get one of the doughnuts?”

“No.”

“You got a Boston Cream and a jelly doughnut.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “How do you know that?”

“It’s what you always get.”

The door to the bakery was shoved open, and Lula barreled out. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready to go rescue Vinnie.” She realized Morelli was standing next to me, and she did a fast stop. “Oops.”

“Rescue Vinnie?” Morelli asked.

“He’s sort of missing,” I told him.

Morelli took the Boston Cream out of the bag, ate half, and gave the rest to me. “Word on the street is that a bunch of people are very unhappy with Vinnie. Word is he owes a lot of money. Do you need help?”