She had wonderfully red hair, an easy laugh and a certain twinkle in her eye when she smiled. Oh, in case it’s relevant, she screamed delightfully when I sliced into her. Unfortunately, I cut a little too close to the left lung and she began choking on her own blood, which rather diminished the effect.

No one heard her. She died at 11:33 a.m. this morning. Her parents, whom she mentioned still live in Leesburg, undoubtedly think she is out painting. Can you call them and tell them yourself, or is that too tacky? I really wish I understood more about the niceties of reporting. I mean, that way you would get a great scoop, right? Be able to tell all about their reactions right as they hear their only daughter has been murdered? That would make for great color, I would think. God, I wish I could see it, but I’ll have to rely on you to convey what you can. I leave it to you to best judge the situation. I can’t know everything and your work has left me sufficiently impressed that I’m confident you will know the best way to handle it.

Now for your questions. I suppose the biggest one is: Why? As you know, it’s the hardest question for anyone to answer. Why does a man feel like watching football on a Saturday afternoon, a cold beer in his hand as he kicks his feet up on the couch? No, that’s a bad analogy.

Why does a woman enjoy a good game of tennis with her best friend on a Sunday morning? That’s better-more active. Believe me, murder is an aerobic workout.

My point is: You do these things because on some level, they are a lot of fun. A way to relax. A way to blow off steam after a hard day’s work. And I figured it was a good way to start the month off right.