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With the boom in mystery novels, law enforcement agencies seem to be receiving more inquiries from prospective authors than ever before. L.A. County Sheriff’s Sgt. Richard Longshore fielded
a call from a writer who said: “Here’s the situation. I have a dead man in a library. There’s a python around his neck. If you encountered that situation, would you test the snake for
drugs?” Longshore’s response: “Depends on whether it could walk a straight line.” * CITY HALL FOLLIES: The opening of the new “Star Wars” movie brought to mind a sarcastic greeting card
issued by a company called Our Town, L.A., a few years ago (see accompanying cover and punch line). The card’s message is as fresh as ever, don’t you think? * READ UP, ROVER: Frank Mapes of
Upland noticed a sign in a hotel that seemed directed toward literate Lassies (see accompanying). * MAYBE THE MUMMY SHOULD GET OUT MORE: Bruce Rothschild saw this poignant double feature on
a marquee in the San Gabriel Valley: THE MUMMY NEVER BEEN KISSED * MONEY TO BURN? I can’t help envying people who win Super Lotto prizes, then don’t even bother to claim them. There have
been 10 cases over the last 12 years, seven of them in Southern California (flaky Southern California). The unclaimed prizes, plus city and date of purchase: * $4.7 million, Hawthorne, June
15, 1988 * $16.4 million, Garden Grove, Sept. 12, 1990 * $6.44 million, Montebello, Sept. 23, 1992 * $2.76 million, Santa Fe Springs, Sept. 8, 1993 * $4 million, Corona, April 5, 1995 * $20
million, Moreno Valley, Oct. 11, 1997 * $4 million, Anaheim, May 27, 1998 If you just remembered you were one of these ticket-buyers, forget it. Winners have 180 days to cash in. Then the
loot goes to the state Department of Education. * QUIET VIDEO: In Santa Monica, Bob McGinness came upon this sign in a store’s video department: Used Video Guaranteed Against Defects Boxes
Are Empty * TABLE-HOPPING: One of my biggest pet peeves (besides forgetting to cash in winning Super Lotto tickets) is restaurants that delay seating you even though there are plenty of
tables available. I don’t know whether the reason is inefficiency, a refusal to hire enough waiters, or both. Anyway, it happened to my party the other day on the Westside. On my
recommendation, we put our name on the waiting list, then sat at one of the vacant tables. Presently a waiter came over. “We’re just waiting for a table,” I said. He nodded as though this
sounded perfectly logical and moved on. Our table was eventually taken so we moved to another. A new waiter visited us and I repeated the explanation. He, too, was unfazed and moved on.
Eventually our name was called and we were moved to a third table. There, oddly enough, we were able to dine. miscelLAny: Does this sound familiar? “The weather had changed; it was now bona
fide ‘June Gloom,’ ” Lindsay Maracotta wrote in her 1996 L.A. mystery novel, “The Dead Hollywood Moms Society.” “The dense marine layer no longer rolled in and out, but sat permanently, day
and night, on silent haunches all along the beach, brightening only for several hours in the afternoon.” Now if you’ll excuse me while I go look for my June rain gear. . . . MORE TO READ