Angel of Mercy: A Passionate Age Gap Thriller: The Mercy Hour, #1

PART ONE – Malice

Tuesday, July 14, 2024

Chapter One: Mark

At three-forty-five on Saturday, I banged on Tohru’s door. Long experience had taught me not to wait for the guy; if I wanted him to show up to the scene on time, I was the one who had to put him there.

Iwasaki, I yelled, wake up, would you? How long are you gonna keep me waiting out here?

Yikes! I heard a kind of squeak of panic, and ten seconds later Tohru was standing in front of me in his boxers with his hair sticking up all over the place, wide-eyed and clutching his cell phone. Wha-what’s happening? Who died? I’m ready. Put me in, coach.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

No, you’re not, I muttered. Jesus, I told you to set an alarm or something; we’ve got that podcast today.

Tohru’s mouth dropped open, and he gaped at me.

Oh, he whispered. Oh ... oh no.

Oh yeah, I sighed. Get dressed, would you? And do something about that mess. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out my comb and thrust it at him. Try to look presentable. Then again, I guess it doesn’t matter if we’re just doing audio ... but at least put some pants on. A shirt too, if you’re feeling fancy.

Rushing back into his bedroom, Tohru called out frantically, IT MATTERS, before slamming the door behind him. Maybe seven minutes later he was back, wearing a full black suit with what looked like a brand-new white shirt beneath a bright red tie.

How do I look? he asked hopefully.

Frankly, he looked like he was trying too hard. In my worn blue button-up and jeans, I looked like I was going to a completely different party, but that may have just been the age difference rearing its head. Me, I’d gotten bored of trying to impress people a long time ago. Tohru, at thirty-five, still treated every meeting with a pretty girl like it was a first date.

Presentable, I told him, shrugging. C’mon, let’s go.

Tohru’s shoulders sagged a little, but he dutifully locked the door behind us as I climbed into the driver’s seat of my bright blue electric chevy. It was a used car, but I’d only bought it a few months ago; a weird purchase for me, unlike any car I’d ever owned before. The color was almost stupidly bright, and maybe that was why I liked it. I didn’t have to hide in plain sight anymore; no more sneaking around and keeping my head down. If I wanted an obnoxiously obvious car, no reason why I couldn’t have one. I’d bought it expecting for it to feel like freedom, but so far it still just felt like someone else’s car.

We drove twenty minutes through DC, then parked in the retail lot beside The Cozy Cat Café and argued with the concierge of the adjacent apartment building until she finally let us up to the third floor. The door to room 317 was already open as Tohru and I walked down the hall, and as we got closer, a tall woman stuck her head out and beckoned us urgently in.

I’d never met Alice Malice Randall before, but I’d heard her voice plenty of times, first on her weekly true crime podcast, and then a couple of weeks ago on my voicemail, when she’d called to ask me if I’d be willing to do a guest spot on her show, The Malice and Mercy Murder Hour. Her cohost, Mercy St. Claire, was a graduate student of mine at George Mason University, where I taught criminology and social justice. According to Alice, Mercy was a big fan of mine, whatever that meant, and Alice had wanted to schedule me on the podcast as a special surprise for Mercy, for their one hundredth episode.

I’d been the one who suggested bringing Tohru, at his request.

Well, I say request, but it’s more like he begged me until I caved. When I’d told Alice that I knew The Washington Post’s most brilliant crime reporter, she’d been thrilled to have him on the episode, but it was also clear that she didn’t remember having ever met the poor guy. Tohru, on the other hand, had been carrying a torch for her since they’d wound up drinking tequila in a walk-in closet at the same Halloween party in 2021, a story he insisted on telling me pretty much every time he got the chance.

Oh great, you’re just in time! Alice ushered us hastily into her apartment, closing the door behind us. Mercy’ll be here soon; you just beat her!

Um, mumbled Tohru, fidgeting uncomfortably with his tie. Hey, Alice, it’s great to see you again.

What? Oh, you too, for sure; I’m a BIG fan of your work. She flashed him a sincere, dazzling smile, and I noted absently that there was a speck of her deep brown lipstick on her front teeth. Tohru’s attraction to her made sense; she had quite the voluptuous figure and she carried it like a queen, moving with the kind of practiced confidence that inevitably drew eyes. She was probably a little older than him, too, maybe in her early forties, and that seemed to fit his type.

There was a knock on the front door, and Alice immediately grabbed my arm.

She’s here, she hissed. Let’s get you into the closet.

The what? Tohru blinked, but Alice was already shoving us towards a half-open coat closet against the wall. Tohru tucked himself inside it with ease, but I didn’t think my bulk was gonna fit so neatly. When we couldn’t close the door on me all the way, Alice grabbed a heavy black wool coat and hung it up right in front of my face.

It itched when it touched my nose; I don’t wear wool. My ex-wife said I was allergic, or something.

That’ll have to do, Alice whispered. Okay, great, now try not to breathe too much!

I heard Tohru suck in a sharp breath, and then Alice’s footsteps were receding, and we could hear the front door opening.

Hi honey, she said presumably to Mercy. Sorry about the metro, babe. It barely runs on the weekends these days. You need something to drink? Ooh, is that a new lipstick? I like it!

What’s going on? Mercy sounded uncertain. You’re being weird, Alice – that’s two pet names in one sentence. What happened? You only call me ‘honey’ when something’s wrong.

Alice giggled.

Nothing’s wrong, she insisted, I’ve just got a present for you, and I’m insanely excited about it. Do I really only call you that when I’m upset? But I think you’re sweet like honey all the time, you know that.

Geez, Alice. Mercy laughed under her breath. You have a present for me? That’s so nice, but ... I didn’t bring you anything. I’m sorry. What did you-?

Be patient! Alice and Mercy were close enough now that I could see them clearly. I’ll show you once we start recording.

You want my reaction for the podcast? Mercy clicked her tongue. Okay, now I’m nervous. You’re making me nervous, can’t we-!

You’re going to LOVE it, I promise. Alice perched herself in a chair by the kitchen table, and Mercy settled into the one next to it, just feet from where Tohru and I were standing, and began setting up her laptop. Tohru was apparently still trying not to breathe, being weirdly still. I had to resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs just to get a sound out of him, to make sure he was still alive.

Okay, began Alice, I’m turning it on. You ready? Be ready, here we go. Then her voice slightly changed, pitching a little bit higher, the way it always sounded on the recordings I sometimes listened to in the car. Wow, Mercy, you’re looking scandalously hot today. Don’t tell me you dressed up just for little old me, hmm?

Mercy rolled her eyes.

I’m not dressed up, she said, but there was a current of pleasant laughter in her voice; she liked the compliment, even if she didn’t really buy it.  This is what I always wear.

It was, too. Mercy, I knew from my student records, was twenty-five, and she came to class every day in a t-shirt, jeans, a beat-up leather jacket and men’s combat boots; the same kind of thing she was wearing for the special episode. I’d noticed her immediately on the first day of class, partially because she had striking red-gold hair, but also because she had a pronounced limp that drew the curious eye whether I wanted to admit it or not.

Of course, I’d jumped to dramatic conclusions right off the bat, like an asshole; pessimistic ingenuity is just part of the territory with guys like me. I’d assumed that maybe she’d been injured in a hit and run, maybe even shot, and that part of her interest in criminology came from having been involved in a crime or maybe wanting to solve her own cold case.

That’d all turned out to be bullshit. A little asking around revealed that Mercy St. Claire had spina bifida, a congenital spinal defect that had rendered her left leg partially paralyzed from birth.

Actually, she was a pretty quiet, friendly, optimistic kid; no history of trauma or criminal involvement as far as I could learn. Decent grades, too; nice focus. She even worked well on group projects, which was more than I could say for myself at her age.

So then, what the hell was her obsession with true crime all about? That, I still hadn’t figured out.

But that’s a new lipstick, insisted Alice. Don’t be shy, I know you’re just as excited as I am about today’s special one hundredth episode!

By the way, everyone, Mercy cut in, this is the true crime podcast Malice and Mercy’s Murder Hour, with Malice Randall.

And don’t forget about Mercy St. Claire! added Alice. We’re excited to be here with you celebrating our one hundredth episode today!

Okay, I’m pretty sure they get it by now, laughed Mercy. You’ve mentioned the number of the episode three times in the last two minutes.

I swear, Mercy does have emotions, insisted Alice, She’s human, honestly, but she just doesn’t like to let on. Hey, I can prove it! You want to hear Mercy get excited? I know you do, and so do I! Get ready everyone, because I have a GREAT surprise for my bestie today.

Oh no, mumbled Mercy. This is scary.

Alice just shook her head.

If you could go on a date with one famous person, Alice went on, then who would it be? I mean, I think I already know, but tell me anyway.

Hmm. Mercy frowned. Catherine Zeta-Jones? Don’t tell me you’ve got Catherine Zeta Jones or Lucy Lawless in your bathroom waiting to jump out and offer me a bouquet of flowers.

Nope, returned Alice, even better. Close your eyes.

What? No, that’s terrifying, began Mercy, but Alice stood up, crossed behind Mercy’s chair, and put her hands over Mercy’s eyes.

Close your eyes! she demanded. Come on, this’ll be fun, TRUST me.

Oh, jeez. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Mercy sighed.

Okay, she mumbled, I trust you. They’re closed.

Promise? asked Alice.

I promise! But Alice, I feel stupid. Don’t you think we could-!

Okay, wait right there, and keep your eyes CLOSED. Cutting Mercy off, Alice rushed over to the closet and threw open the doors, apparently releasing Tohru and I back into the apartment. Tohru finally started breathing normally again, taking a step forward, and I, feeling kinda awkward, swatted the coat out of my face and strode out in front of him.

Open your eyes! Alice ordered.

With a tolerant half-smile on her face, Mercy opened her eyes ... and went white, staring at me and only at me, as though Tohru wasn’t even in the room.

Oh god, she breathed, looking absolutely stunned and maybe a little mortified. P...Professor Thoreau?

The way she was looking at me with those red lips slightly parted and absolute shock in her eyes suddenly made me feel self-conscious, and when her cheeks began to turn pink, I coughed and cleared my throat.

Young women never looked at me like that, never reacted with that kind of excitement, and it was flattering, if a little unnerving. Apparently, Alice had been right about Mercy’s interest in me, and that was a hell of an ego boost. She was a sweet girl, and I was flattered, sure.

Then again, I reminded myself quickly, I could be reading this wrong. Maybe she’s just embarrassed to have me here, since the classroom and her podcast were such drastically different worlds. There were, of course, a ton of reasons why she might have been gazing at me in shock. Maybe the idea of her being excited to see me was all just wishful thinking on my part, or worse, it was just that inappropriate, creeping loneliness from my not having had a date in over a year.

I’m forty-six. I’ve been divorced twice, and I’m already on my second career; your classic messed up sonuvabitch in the middle of a pretty comfortable mid-life crisis. I had no business looking at promising young women with full lives ahead of them; I shouldn’t have even been thinking about it, and if I’d caught anybody else in my shoes, any other washed-up old creeps ogling my students, I wouldn’t have tolerated it. The fact that these feelings were coming from inside me was ... unpleasant, even disgusting.

So? Well? What do you think, Merc? Alice was beaming between me and Mercy with a sort of malicious pride that made me even more nervous. For those of you not lucky enough to be in the room with us, we’ve got super special guests on today’s episode! I’m so excited to welcome Professor Mark Thoreau of the George Mason University Department of Criminology, Law, and Society ... although YOU guys know him better as the heroic criminal investigator who was responsible for the capture and conviction of Dan Warren, the Capitol Area Pedophile, in 2019! And did we mention he teaches two of Mercy’s grad school courses? Oh yeah, she gets plenty of special time with our favorite superhero, don’t you, Merc?

Mercy just let out a kind of strangled squeak. I figured I was probably the one turning red, now.

And let’s not forget, Alice went on, Tohru Iwasaki, the reclusive investigative journalist responsible for some of The Washington Post’s most important, hard-hitting stories, like the kidnapping of Devra Rae last year, and the 2020 discovery of the body of ex-con turned would-be-babysitter Craig Thomas. You were actively involved in that investigation, weren’t you, Tohru? They say you played a big part in helping to ID the body.

The victim, murmured Mercy.

Yeah, sighed Alice, but he was a dick, Merc.

He was still a person, insisted Mercy, then added, can you tell us a little about that case, Mr. Iwasaki? I read your book about social media and the part it can play in closing cold cases, and that was ... incredible, actually. I’d really love to hear more.

Mercy was now very carefully not looking at me, fixing her attention almost unblinkingly on Tohru.

Yeah, Tohru, I agreed, giving him a little nudge. That’s a good story, let’s hear it. I bet you two didn’t know that Tohru here was also the guy who called in the tip that led to Nancy Coburn’s arrest?

Mercy’s eyes lit up, and she leaned in slightly, finally looking over at me.

No, I didn’t know that, she admitted. Please, Mr. Iwasaki, I’d love to hear about that. I’m sure our listeners would, too.

How do you two know each other, anyway? interrupted Alice. You seem like sort of an unusual pair.

Alice! Mercy looked shocked. That’s not-!

Oh, um, well Mark and I worked together on the CAP case, said Tohru, straightening his shoulders and sitting up taller in his seat.

Alice widened her eyes at him.

Seriously? she asked. I had no idea.

Tohru laughed and rubbed a hand anxiously over the back of his neck.

Yeah, he agreed, Well, I wasn’t officially covering the case for work, or anything, I was just ... you know, invested. You guys get it.

He looked beseechingly between Alice and Mercy, and they both nodded encouragingly.

We do, agreed Mercy. And actually, I did know about that, because ... Again, she glanced uncertainly at me. Because Professor Thoreau talks about it in class sometimes. We read a lot of your work.

Hey, really? Tohru beamed at me. So, you DO like me, huh? You really like me!

I shot him a withering look that wiped that stupid smile right off his face.

He does, Mr. Iwasaki. Mercy gave him a slow smile. You should see the way his eyes light up when he talks about you. He’s proud of you.

This time, when she turned and glanced at me, that small smile was still there, and whatever smart comment I’d been about to make to shut Tohru down withered on my lips, while Tohru just beamed.

Mercy had always been an abnormally observant girl. Well, more than observant, really. Mercy had something a little different going for her.

Do you want to tell our guests about today’s case, Mercy? asked Alice, looking over the moon about how this whole special reunion was going so far. Mercy’s the one who picked today’s cold case – it’s one of her favorites, and we’d love to get your take on it.

Nodding slowly, Mercy shut her eyes for just a fraction of a second, then opened them again and began to recite.

On March 27, 2023, she said carefully, "Annabelle Taylor, fifty-two, reported her daughter, Maura Taylor, twenty-five, missing from her home in Chestnut Hill, Pennsylvania, after Maura didn’t show up for a family birthday dinner the evening before. Maura was last seen by her new boyfriend,