Beach Tale: The Case of the Cruller Shop Arsonist

       

          The aroma of fresh-from-the-deep-fryer donuts floated through the doorway.  In response, my mouth sent out enough saliva to rival Niagara Falls.  I vowed to get even with the diabolical police chief who had assigned me the case of the four torched Cappy’s Crullers donut shops along the boardwalk.  I’d been on the Atkins Diet for 23 days in preparation for my Valentine ’s Day wedding, and this stakeout was above and beyond the call of duty.  But it seemed a logical conclusion that the only CC storefront still standing in a 100-mile radius would be the next to go up in flames.  Somebody needed to keep an eye on things, and I was the only one available.  Sometimes I just get lucky that way.  Sigh.

          I know it’s a cliché that cops never met a donut they didn’t eat, but the truth is we frequent the establishments on account of the availability of fresh coffee 24 hours a day.  But we’re only human.  So after ordering my caffeine fix, I tacked on a casual request for one maple-glazed cruller and then settled in a back booth to watch and wait. 

          Thirteen-and-a-half crullers later, my patience was rewarded.

          “You the detective handling the fires?”