"This one's for you," Sergeant   Barstow shouted and left quickly through the back door. I was a little puzzled. I looked out a window of the Ashfordly Police Station and saw an elderly woman come into the building. "Good morning, Madam," I said. "Good morning," she said pleasantly. "You're new, aren't you?" "Yes, Madam." "It's about that man who's been annoying me," she said. "I've been here about him before." "Could I have your name and address, please?" "Miss Fraser. Josephine Fraser. I live at 43 Prince Terrace. Now, can you please do something about Jackson?" "What's he done, Miss Fraser?" "Done? He's thrown garbage all over my stairs again. He must be stopped." "Where does he live?" "Next door, Number 41," she said. "I'll go and see later and warn him off, Miss Fraser." "I would be most grateful." With that she left. Half an hour later, I reached Prince Terrace. NO. 41 was in a bad state of repair. I knocked. No reply. I entered. The place was deserted. I wondered if the Jackson was a tramp  . Anyway, it seemed he had left, possibly because of Miss Fraser's threatening police action. I decided to visit her. I knocked on her door and it was opened almost immediately. "Ah!" she said gladly. "You're just in time for coffee." I followed her inside. Miss Fraser told me more about her battle with Jackson. But when I asked specific questions, it clearly showed that she had never seen Jackson. Finally, I managed to leave. Sergeant Barstow smiled kindly as I returned. "Nick, did you kick  Jackson out of that house?" "Jackson!" I cried. "Who is he?" "There is no Jackson," he said. "Miss Fraser is lonely and she likes company. We always let the new young men deal with Miss Fraser. It gives her deep satisfaction. That's what we are here for, isn't it -- to satisfy the public?" Miss Fraser made up the story of Jackson because   _  .
she liked to play jokes on the policemen she wanted to have someone to talk with she loved to show others her nice coffee she hated Jackson very much