She was privy to the killer’s identity, but with her editor stressing new material, she could wait. After all, serial murders are good reads. Research was her favorite part of being a novelist. The myriad crime shows could not replace the feeling of being at the actual scene. She could see it now. Her dashing protagonist, a detective by day, author by day as well. He was not a night person. A line both humorous and dark popped into his mind. A perfect opening to the perfect book. He could see it now. “She was privy to the killer’s identity...”
It reminds me of that Will Ferrell movie.
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