Lester walked out of Meg’s Grill toward his patrol car, looking neither left nor right. But, as usual, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Meg’s had plenty of tables outside during the summer, always full. He knew what her customers were thinking. Sometimes, someone would say something sotto voce that he caught anyway. That morning it was, “The chubby cop.”

He was a good police officer. He always got good reports from his superiors. He’d even won a commendation for foiling a convenience store robbery. He hardly looked the part though. Describing him as chubby was practically a compliment. According to all the charts, Lester was morbidly obese. 

Edd Alvarez, the cop he ate breakfast with most mornings, was walking to his patrol car, parked behind Lester’s. “I’ll meet you behind the Wawa.” The Wawa is a convenience store known for its coffee, milk, cigarettes and of course, cakes and candies. Lester cringed when Edd spoke. He closed his eyes for a moment, actually waiting for someone to say something he’d heard many times. “A donut run already?” He shook his head and got into his car, knowing that the driver’s side would tilt a little under his weight.

While they were eating breakfast, he had received a radio call. “Phillips? I assume you and Alvarez are at Megs.”

“That must be why you’re a captain. Yeah, we’re here. What’s up?” Lester asked.

“I want you guys to go down to the Wawa on Brooklyn Avenue. We got a tip there’s a drug deal going down in about thirty minutes.”

“You want us to go now?” Lester looked at his watch.

“It’s two blocks away. You can finish your damn waffles,” the captain said.

“It’s Meg’s scramble. Waffles are Friday.”

“Whatever. You know the drill. Look for DeGravina. He’s under cover. You guys are there for backup. Got it?”

The way an operation like this worked was Detective DeGravina would be making a buy in the parking lot in front of the store. As soon as the money changed hands, another undercover cop would step in and arrest the dealer. Sometimes the dealer ran. That’s where the backup officers, who would be stationed behind the store, one car hidden on each end, might be called on to capture the suspect.

The officers took their time getting there. They parked and waited. The second undercover officer would radio them just before he moved in to make the arrest. If the suspect ran toward the back of the store, the detective would say either Lester or Edd’s name to let them know which way the dealer was headed.

When he heard the detective say, “Lester,” he quickly blocked the ally with his patrol car. But the young man was athletic. He had no trouble climbing over the hood of Lester’s car.  “Damn it,” Lester said. He jumped out of his car and gave chase. It was at moments like this that he wished Meg’s customers could see him in action. He could really run. In fact, his fellow officers couldn’t believe how fast he was. One time at a picnic put on by the county policeman’s association, his fellow officers got him to enter a 50-yard dash against officers from the other towns. When the other cops saw Lester, his buddies got great odds and cleaned up.

Now the chase was on. Lester and Edd were in hot pursuit. Lester was gaining on the dealer, but he was beginning to tire. Then he saw something that gave him an extra burst of energy. If he did it just right, he could catch the kid in front of Meg’s. He forced his legs to keep churning, swinging his arms, his eyes on his prey. The crowd could see him now. Some of the diners stood up to get a better look. The kid was only a step or two ahead of him. Lester reached out with his right hand and clutched the hood of his sweatshirt. Right in front of Meg’s, he had him!

The crowd applauded. Lester cuffed the suspect. He heard someone say, “Wow, how did he do that?”

Lester smiled. “It’s the donuts.”