The interrogation, such as it was, took place at the donut shop a few shops over. I almost laughed at the irony, but thank goodness I didn’t. The cop didn’t look like he’d appreciate the humor as much as he was appreciating a cruller and a boston cream.

His mouth half full, he started amiably enough, “So, I made some calls, checked you out. Clean rap sheet. No truancy. Still, I got two buts.”

I almost made a crack about he looked like a three or four butt man to me, but thankfully I was still a little numb from the excitement.

“But 1, you run with tough characters, real regulars on the naughty list.” He paused, let that sink in, like I didn’t know, Like I’d give a crap. “But 2, the perps are saying you and your pals were in on some scam with them, that you’re just as guilty.”

Excuses and maneuvers ran through my head like rats on crack. I let my puzzlement look like innocent shock to be so implicated.

“Gosh,” I offered, “I was just tryin to help, officer.” I think he bought it.