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Frankie Watkins was good with his fists, so good in fact he might even have been a champion. But getting a title shot would have meant hard-work and fighting guys who were also good with their fists; that wouldn’t have suited Frankie at all. You see, Frankie was a coward, and a lazy one too. The thought of someone hitting him back terrified him even more than hard work.
The flat-capped, raincoat wearing man liked to stalk his victims first. He deliberately cultivated an unassuming, almost invisible appearance for the initial stages of his work for obvious reasons, ensuring that any possible description of him would be as nondescript as that of the nearest lamppost. The knife-wielding sociopath was most meticulous in his planning, proud indeed of his attention to detail. But then, of course, he had to be otherwise his career would most likely have been a short one … 
I’ve loved animals since I “adopted” a neighbours cat when I was five. (She got very fat eating in two houses until Mum found out she wasn’t a stray!) Years later, when I learned to ride horses, I discovered that people hunted foxes for fun. According to them, they were controlling foxes that kill farmers’ livestock, but if that was true, why did they protect the foxes’ setts and stop killing them when the vixens were breeding? Research showed more cruelty, and these people didn’t pretend to be helping! They boasted about how many wild animals they’d killed – some of them endangered species – and their “good bag” of birds. I joined societies fighting against this, and I donated money, but I wanted to do more. How could I persuade people it was wrong when so many others couldn’t?
