The cops rang the doorbell, and a jovial, rotund man answered. His cheerful demeanor was as bright as his brightly patterned shirt. “The police? What’s going on?” he asked with a curious smile.
Jackson took a deep breath and spoke calmly. “Mr. Pickle, we need your help.”“Help?” Mr. Pickle looked puzzled. “I’m just an ordinary guy working at the store. What could I possibly do?” Jackson nodded and said, “Do you know a girl named Lily?”