mystery thoughts

I am reading On the Street Where You Live by Mary Higgins Clark. I don't ever read mystery novels but I have to read three of them (only by certain authors, too, and she was specified on our book list) for a class this semester. Actually, it's pretty fun. I always tried to read Agatha Christie novels when I was younger (ok, about twelve or so), but got bored out of my mind pretty quickly. I think some of those British mystery novels are antiseptic and overly polite. But see, I absolutely adored Sherlock Holmes stories and couldn't get enough of them at the time, so I thought it would make sense to get into the genre a bit more.

I can see how the author gets my mind working on who-done-it already and I'm going to say for the record, at 1/6 through the novel (I'm a slow reader), that right now I think it's the nice, seemingly innocuous real-estate attorney. The reason? None of the narration describes how he feels or thinks about much of anything thus far except for his thoughts on some married bimbo who hits on him. The close second is too obvious, I think--he's a hen-pecked ex-academic who moved to the area about twelve years prior to the story and learns enough of area history to possibly have come across the diary of a serial killer from 100 years before. We know that the killer in the book came across this diary and decides to make his own killings on the anniversaries of the first killings.