The sheriff, who had been staring at the banged-up cruiser next to us, turned to me and Bones and said, “How did you boys get into my cruiser in the first place?” 

I was about to reel off our adventure when I noticed out of the corner of my eye Officer Reilly ducking his head. But Bones had already launched into an explanation of his own. “Well, you see, sir, it started with that donut truck I didn’t see when I rode into the intersection and—” 

“Wait a minute,” the sheriff said, holding up his hand. “You’re the Donut Dunker?” 

Yup, the giant string bean was already a legend in ’70s Ridgewood. 

Yogi strode up, his rope slung over his shoulder and G trotting at his side. “He’s handcuffed and ready to go, Boss.” He clapped the sheriff on the back. 

The sheriff shook Yogi’s hand. “Thanks for apprehending the Gentleman Thief, Yogi. He’s wanted in nine states up and down the East Coast.” A simple smile spread across the sheriff’s face. “The FBI have been trying to catch this guy for years, but leave it to our very own Yogi here to make the arrest.” 

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