"Did you see the news this morning?" Debbi is our admin in the detective division of the Atlanta Police Department.

"No," I replied. "Do I want to?" I do not watch the news in the morning. I hear enough bad news when I get to work.

"Someone has parked a boat in front of the capitol building."

"So why is that news?"

She spun her monitor around so I could see. She was right. There was a boat lying on the pavement neatly within the markings of a metered parking space. Looked like a 17 foot Boston Whaler. "Not your normal sight in downtown Atlanta, but not really against the law. What else we got this morning?"

Debbi rolled her eyes at my not-so-subtle hint to get back to work. "Well, I just think it is interesting. Someone has even put money in the meter. There are 2 hours registered."

"Check to see if anyone reported it missing, and then let's move on."

"I did," Debbi said. "It is not on the report."

"I assume you have checked the registration..."

"I can't. The number has been removed. I asked for a patrol car to take a look. Anything that could identify the owner has been removed from the boat."

By mid-afternoon, the parked boat was the talk of the town. 11Alive News covered the story without respite. A nearby bar started a "Feed the Boat" campaign and patrons had been putting quarters in the meter all day long. Still no reports of a missing boat.

Some wags speculated that it was the Mayor getting a jab at the State Legislature for failure to fund his Chattahoochee flood plan. A lobbying group hinted that they just might be coming up with a new campaign.

I requested that Patrol keep an eye on it. They responded if I wanted to know what was happening with the boat, I could just watch the damn tv.

When I left at six, we were no closer to solving the mystery of the parked boat.

Mu phone rang at ten minutes after ten pm. My presence was requested back at the station.

 When I got there, I was directed to the first-floor interview room. I found a skinny little guy in a sleeveless t-shirt, dirty jeans, and a baseball cap. "Am I under arrest?" he wanted to know.

"Just tell me about the boat."

"I bought that boat off a guy in LaGrange. There's the papers." He pointed at a folded paper on the table. "I was towin' it up I-85 through town when a bearing went on the trailer. It was late, like two am, and nothing was open. I figured without the weight of the boat, I could get the trailer home and fix the bearing without too much damage. I called the night number for that marina in Smyrna. They wanted 200 bucks to open up and store the boat for the day. So I dropped it off in a parking slot. I figured it would be plenty safe right across from the government building and the most I might have to pay was a twenty buck parking fine.

"I got back here about eight tonight, but there was a car parked in front of it. When I could finally get the trailer in position to load it, your guys were there; and now I'm here. So I ask, am I under arrest?"

"No, get out of here," I told him.

"Listen, I'm gonna need three or four strong guys to help me get that thing back on the trailer. Ya think you could get some of yer cops to help?"

I looked at my watch. "There are three news crews outside that door and you have time to make the eleven o'clock news. I suggest you appeal to your fellow citizens. Offer to buy 'em a beer. You'll have help in no time."