Dear Mr. Patterson

It's Saturday morning and I realized that in the last 4 days I have read 3 books, all by James Patterson: 3rd Degree, 4th of July and Mary Mary. Mary Mary was excellent, it was one of his Alex Cross novels (remember the movies Along Came A Spider and Kiss The Girls with Morgan Freeman? He played Dr. Alex Cross). They were all worth the read, and now I'm started on 5th Horseman, which I believe is the second last novel in the Women's Murder Club.

So you would think that I haven't done anything in the past 4 days besides read, well that is not true. I think it's just because I haven't watched any TV, except 2 episodes of Big Brother last night that we DVR'd, so we watched it in under 1 1/2 hours.

Anyway, my whole point about reading is this: when I'm reading a mystery, I like to take my time and think about it. I like to try to figure out what is going on, the killer's possible motivation, and in general, to read between the lines and pick up little hints in the story that may disclose who the killer is. If I do happen to figure it out, I feel quite accomplished and very good about myself.

Here's a little metaphor: Remember the game Clue? You go through it all and discover that indeed twas Colonel Mustard in the Library with the Candlestick. Yeah! Well what if at the end of the game, you pull the three cards from the envelop and find that the murderer was actually Pervy Uncle Bert in the Cellar with the Grinder. Not fair right?

That's what I'm saying here! Throw me a bone at least! Give me some kind of hint or inclination! Oh, also please stop introducing a character who appears to be the over the top obvious suspect, because it's never them and we know that, and it doesn't throw us off. We're smarter than that! Even if the author thinks his readers are stupid, I'll read 'em anyway...