They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

I don't get this.  It's the handwriting of a serial killer. Or a doctor. Or a sitcom writer.  It really changes everything in my investigation.  I was starting to warm up to the idea of this mousy gal with a penchant for Red Vines and rugby who works on the second floor as the culprit but these are obviously the feverish chicken scratches of a man.  A man with no sense of smell, but a man.