Crime Beat
“The call for the arson case came in early the next morning. I was late, being the gentleman that I was, but Moretz was in his cubicle as usual. He’d texted me but I hadn’t turned on my phone, because I hate the sound of beeping when I’m trying to be romantic. But I heard the sirens on the way in and was glad I had a reporter on the job that didn’t require sleep.
If only I could be lucky enough to keep him out of prison for a while.
Moretz called me from the scene as I started laying out the obituary page. Obits are one of our staples. When someone dies in a small town, you can count on at least 30 friends and family members picking up a copy to clip out that last public artifact.
For some reason, Facebook and Twitter hadn’t erased that simple, solemn ritual for most people. In death, we still had the final word—and a corner on the market.
“Two-story house, fully engaged,” Moretz said.
I tried not to cheer for the total loss. That seemed like bad form. “Any fatals?”
“Not so much as a h...eat rash.”MoreLess
If only I could be lucky enough to keep him out of prison for a while.
Moretz called me from the scene as I started laying out the obituary page. Obits are one of our staples. When someone dies in a small town, you can count on at least 30 friends and family members picking up a copy to clip out that last public artifact.
For some reason, Facebook and Twitter hadn’t erased that simple, solemn ritual for most people. In death, we still had the final word—and a corner on the market.
“Two-story house, fully engaged,” Moretz said.
I tried not to cheer for the total loss. That seemed like bad form. “Any fatals?”
“Not so much as a h...eat rash.”MoreLess
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