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One good thing came of the discovery of Jed’s body, the opportunity to write about it.
I went to town on the story. Two murders with the same M.O. make a serial killer. Even the police agreed. And so it was official: a serial killer was on the loose in Manchester, and the city was, or would soon be, gripped by panic. It wasn’t just that the serial killer murdered people; it was the spectacular way in which he did it that made for great copy. It was as gruesome as anyone could remember any murder being. I devoted an ocean of ink to speculating – as tastefully as possible – what it must have been like for his victims as they approached their final moments.
(It would have been, for example: “grim and painful beyond words, beyond belief, beyond even imagination.”).
I also analysed the t
