'Melvin Pickle sounds like fun,' she said. 'I think we should start with Melvin.'

'Maybe a bond enforcement agent wanted ad in the paper isn't such a bad idea,' I said to Connie.

'Yeah,' Lula said, 'just be careful how you word it. You probably want to fib a little. Like you don't want to say we're looking for some gun-happy lunatic to take down a bunch of scumbags.'

'I'll keep that in mind when I write it up,' Connie said.

'I'm going down the street,' I told Lula. 'I need something to make me happy. We'll go to work when I get back.'

'You going to the drugstore?' Lula wanted to know.

'No. The bakery.'

'I wouldn't mind if you brought me back one of them cream-filled doughnuts with the chocolate frosting,' Lula said. 'I need to get happy too.'

At mid-morning the Garden State was heating up. Pavement was steaming under a cloudless sky, petrochemical plants were spewing to the north, and cars were emitting hydrocarbons statewide. By mid-afternoon I'd feel the toxic stew catch in the back of my throat, and I'd know it was truly summer in Jersey. For me, the stew is part of the Jersey experience. The stew has attitude. And it enhances the pull of Point Pleasant. How can you completely appreciate the Jersey shore if the air is safe to breathe in the interior parts of the state?

I swung into the bakery and went straight to the doughnut case. Marjorie Lando was behind the counter, filling cannoli for a customer. Fine by me. I could wait my turn. The bakery was always a soothing experience. My heart rate slowed in the presence of massive quantities of sugar and lard. My mind floated over the acres of cookies and cakes and doughnuts and cream pies topped with rainbow sprinkles, chocolate frosting, whipped cream, and meringue.

I was patiently contemplating my doughnut selection, when I sensed a familiar presence behind me. A hand brushed my hair back, and Ranger leaned into me and kissed me on the nape of my neck.