I believe that everyone has it in them to kill another person. In desperation, or hatred, or at least to defend themselves.

A journalist finds out things by asking questions of people who know.

Crime stories are, as you know, one of the most popular forms of entertainment that exist. If you then try to have something to say... that I have, of course.

She had been sharing a house with him for a week, and he had not once flirted with her. He had worked with her, asked her opinion, slapped her on the knuckles figuratively speaking when she was on the wrong track, and acknowledged that she was right when she corrected him. Dammit, he had treated her like a human being.

Her absence had felt like torture--almost a form of personal punishment. He had nobody to discuss his feelings with, and for the first time he realised with appalling clarity what a destructive hold she had over him.

Keep in mind that I'm crazy, won't you?

I have a truly marvellous demonstration of this proposition which this margin is too narrow to contain.