How Do You Like Your Murders?

We are a ghoulish species by nature. When we hear of somebody's life being cut short by nefarious means it piques our interest. Queues of people will gather at the murder scene. Ask them why they're there and they find it hard to put into words.

I've always been interested in murder. I don't like it. But I am. A lot of people are, I tell myself. Crime fiction is one of the most popular genres. And I like writing it. Though I think that one of the reasons I write it is to diminish the feelings of guilt for being interested in the latest macabre slaying to hit the news.

There's an obvious reason why crime fiction is so popular. Life is uncertain. Very often it's unfair. Not so in crime fiction. The bad guys get caught by the good ones. When readers embark on their evening commute after a day of unjust treatment at the office, their detective of choice will reassure them that justice can still be done. It's comforting, restores our beliefs in good triumphing over evil.

And I'm the same.

But when it comes to real life crime I flip. I prefer the cases to be unsolved. I thought I was the only one. But speaking to people about it, they share my fascination with the unsolved.

If a crime is solved, it's not that I'm disappointed. It's good that the perpetrator is caught and pays for it. It's just that I lose interest.

I blame it on my childhood. No, my mother is not Myra Hindley. And my father always paid a parking fine.

But when I was growing up, The Yorkshire Ripper was prowling the north, killing women. There was widespread fear. He sent a cassette tape to the police. His voice, in very measured, reptilian tones taunted the police: 'I see you are still having no luck catching me.' He kept addressing the leader of the investigation by name: 'I reckon your boys are letting you down, George.'

It was the creepiest thing I'd ever heard. And although it turned out to be a hoax, it still makes me tense up when I hear it.

My fascination with unsolved murders does get out of hand sometimes. Even when a case has been solved, I look for inconsistencies, false confessions, contaminated evidence. Why is that? Perhaps I identify with a character popular in crime fiction, the barnstorming, maverick, contrary detective. He's the closest that crime fiction has to a superhero. He takes preconceived notions, even those backed by science, and burrows a tunnel through its sullied evidence till he reaches the light of truth.

In that way, I think our lurid obsession with murder cases can be justified - it's just our way of wanting to right wrongs. I hope.