By the time Hess got off the phone, Andrea had read through fifteen reports and typed in the most interesting and off-beat of them into her computer. Just fifteen incidents over the weekend. It barely took any time at all to go through them. Barking dogs. Kids skinny-dipping in the park after hours. The "ghost" at the Historical Society building turned out to be an archivist working late. The person who reported the ghost had broken her glasses that morning and couldn't see beyond the reach of her hand.
"Slim pickings this week," Hess said with a grin and a shrug, when he walked over to retrieve the report book.
"That loony over on Prague Rd. threatened to beat up the entire circulation department again," she offered.
"Yeah, we know. We have a special folder just for all his threats. The thing is, Prague Road is the dividing line between Tabor and Hyburg, and he's on the Hyburg side of the line. All his threats are for the police in Hyburg to deal with.""Especially since he's grumbling about Hyburg's paper, not ours, and the threats are against their circulation department, not ours. You can't tell him that, though. Every time someone tells him he's calling the wrong office, he goes into his rant about how all the newspapers in the country are owned by the government and he doesn't pay his taxes to get a runaround from lazy communist pinko wannabes who wouldn't know good customer service if it gave them a black eye."