But this morning I barely managed to grab one raspberry-filled doughnut-and I was lucky not to lose a finger in the process. The whole floor was buzzing with preparation for a trip to a crime scene, and the tone of the buzz let me know that it was a particularly heinous one, which did not please me. That meant longer hours, stuck somewhere far from civilization and Cuban sandwiches. Who knew what I would end up with for lunch? Considering that I had been short-changed on the doughnuts, lunch could prove to be a very important meal, and for all I knew I would be forced to work right through it.

I grabbed my handy blood-spatter kit and headed out the door with Vince Masuoka, who despite his small size had somehow grabbed two of the very valuable filled doughnuts-including the Bavarian cream with the chocolate frosting. "You have done a little too well, Mighty Hunter," I told him with a nod at his plundered loot.

"The gods of the forest have been good," he said, and took a large bite. "My people will not starve this season." "No, but I will," I said.

He gave me his terrible phony smile, which looked like something he had learned to do by studying a government manual on facial expressions. "The ways of the jungle are hard, Grasshopper," he said. "Yes, I know," I said. "First you must learn to think like a doughnut."

"Ha," Vince said. His laugh was even phonier than his smile, sounding like he was reading aloud from a phonetic spelling of laughter. "Ah, ha ha ha!" he said. The poor guy seemed to be faking everything about being human, just like me. But wasn't as good at it as I was. No wonder I was comfortable with him. That and the fact that he quite often took a turn bringing the doughnuts.

"You need better camouflage," he said, nodding at my shirt, a bright pink-and-green Hawaiian pattern complete with hula girls. "Or at least better taste." "It was on sale," I said. "Ha," he said again. "Well, pretty soon Rita will be picking your clothes." And then abruptly dropping his terrible artificial jollity, he said, "Listen, I think I have found the perfect caterer." "Does he do jelly doughnuts?" I said, truthfully hoping that the whole subject of my impending matrimonial bliss would simply go away. But I had asked Vince to be my best man, and he was taking the job seriously.

"The guy is very big," Vince said. "He did the MTV Awards, and all those showbiz parties and stuff." "He sounds delightfully expensive," I said.

"Well, he owes me a favor," Vince said. "I think we can get him down on the price. Maybe like a hundred and fifty bucks a plate."