It took one jelly-filled and one chocolate-drizzled to assure my hips that famine wasn’t on the way, and I was back out on the sidewalk. Down the block, a police cruiser’s radio crackled.

“What the heck,” I muttered and ambled off in that direction. Chief Witherspoon was just coming out the front door.

“Hey, Addy,” he said. “What brings you downtown?”

“Oh, nothing much, Spoony. Heard about the robbery and was just curious. Got any suspicions?”

“Suspicions? Sure. That new fellow’s been seen hanging around. We went out to the West End Motel where he’s staying.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “Wasn’t him—he has an alibi. He was with his girlfriend all morning. She had just bought a new digital camera and was playing around with it, making him pose for pictures; Regis and Kelly Live in the background on the television screen.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Spoony. Everybody and their brother has Tivo. They could’ve recorded Reg anytime.”

“She said she’d swear he never left the room.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “We ran copies of the photos she snapped.”

I held out my hand. “Can I see those?”

“Don’t know what good it’ll do.”

I scanned the photographs—they were crisp and sharp. Lots of pixels. It was him all right, reclining on a ratty sofa, feet up on a coffee table. Big as life, black hair slicked back, wide smile stretching out the thin mustache, the smoke-tinted glasses hiding his eyes. Like Shady said: slick.

One picture bothered me. “What’s that streaking across the lens of his Foster Grants?”

Witherspoon grunted. “Huh? Where? Oh, that. Glare probably.”

I thumbed over my shoulder. “You got a magnifying glass in your cruiser?”

“Sure. You want me to get it?”

I nodded.

When he got back and handed me the glass, I gave the photograph a careful inspection.

“I think you can pick him up, Spoony,” I said.

“We’ll have his girlfriend to contend with. She won’t be easy.”

“Then charge her with perjury.” I handed him the picture and the magnifying glass. "Take a closer look.”

He let out a low whistle. “Holy cow,” he said. “What d’ you know?”

“For what good reason do you reckon a man would have a Mulberry Community Bank deposit bag reflecting in his shades?”

“Maybe he’s a customer?”

“Spoony, the man doesn’t even have a job.”

He grinned. “Then why don’t me and you just run right on out there and ask him?”