My colleagues and I serve, on average, fifty-seven clients per day per employee. These clients fall into two categories: parents and adolescents. Note that 83 percent of these people are friendly, calm, smart, patient, and thoughtful. They instinctively understand that shooting the messenger, or issuing threats, or other such actions are unlikely to bear fruit, and may even have the opposite effect of delaying the call that will inform them that their order is ready until after the first day of school. The remaining 17 percent? I assiduously note their contact information — parents’ names, children’s names, address, phone number — in a little notebook I keep on my person at all times. Knowing that I possess this information gives me the strength to carry on all summer providing courteous service to happy clients. I end every transaction with a jaunty “See you soon!”

An act of mass retribution would be a bad play. I can already see the faces of the police inspectors, taking a long hard look. They’d resemble the ones who questioned my parents and me the summer of the Dupuis Creek incident. You know: aging, balding, out of shape — typical cop.

“What do all these cases have in common? High income, private-school kids. Aha! They all bought textbooks at the same place. Could I have a list of employees, please? Thanks!”

But I am curious about how serious a crime needs to be to justify a full-fledged investigation.

Buoyed by my little warm-up play with the wrapped-up dog turd, I begin straying from the beaten path a little. A few years have passed since my summer behind the bookshop counter. The feeling that’s stuck with me is more curiosity than an infanticidal impulse. I make several passes in front of a massive stone mansion in a neighbourhood where annual property taxes must not be far from the city’s median income. The address matches an entry my notebook. It’s triple-underlined, along with stars and arrows. Whoever lives here made an indelible impression.

The house sits across from a lovely park intersected by tree-lined paths. Beautiful mature trees: oaks, ash, weeping willows, silver maple, and an aspen out by a man-made pond. A few well-fed and apparently fearless ducks have moved in. Summer’s almost over; the kids have gone back to school. The leaves are starting to change colour.

During the week the park is practically deserted aside from a few toddlers out with their Filipina nannies. Rarely have I enjoyed such a pleasant public observation point. I keep going to the park long after I’ve gathered all the information I need on our little family.