10:00

patio, surveyed the top of the

10:02

adobe wall edging the yard, and

10:04

looked out across the golf course, trying to

10:06

discern any hint of a human form in

10:08

the darkness. I could barely

10:10

think. Between my headache and

10:12

the sounds of sirens, the neighbors' dogs

10:14

setting each other off like so many

10:16

malfunctioning car alarms, the erratic

10:18

clang of someone's wind chimes, and

10:21

palm fronds scraping the side of the house. Only

10:24

when a helicopter swept its beam over a nearby

10:26

street did I draw away from the window and

10:28

race down the stairs, driven by

10:30

a renewed sense of urgency. The

10:33

first drops of rain started to fall as I stepped

10:36

out into the patio. I scanned

10:38

the garden beds and dark spaces between

10:40

potted cacti and made my way to

10:42

the gate straining against its hinges. I

10:45

wrestled the gate closed and lowered its wooden

10:47

hatch, and when I turned back to the

10:49

house, I noticed that I had left the

10:52

hot tub uncovered. I cursed

10:54

my own carelessness, and wondering

10:56

whether the wind-worn dust and debris had

10:58

already damaged the tub's filtration system, I

11:01

drew the insulated cover over the murky water.

11:04

I gathered a padlock from the ground, slid the

11:06

shackle through a hasp on the cover, and slipped

11:09

its small key into my pants pocket as

11:11

a police car passed in front of the

11:13

house. Arrested by the

11:15

sight of red and blue lights streaking

11:17

between the branches of a mesquite, I

11:20

stood perfectly still. Listening

11:22

to a loudspeaker announcement instructing everyone in

11:25

the vicinity to stay inside while the

11:27

police searched for a suspect assumed to

11:29

be armed and dangerous. With

11:32

an unnerving sense that I was being watched,

11:34

I retreated into the house and locked the

11:36

patio door, seconds before the first cloud burst

11:39

covered the glass in a wash of rain.

11:41

I tested the locks on every door, assuring

11:43

myself that I would hear something, that I

11:45

would have some kind of warning if anyone

11:48

tried to force their way to the house.

11:50

I felt for the dimming switch on the

11:53

wall behind my briefcase and illuminated the first

11:55

floor just enough to see my way around

11:57

without obliterating my view of the backyard with

11:59

dark reflections of the dining room and kitchen.

12:03

In the spare light, I saw a handwritten note

12:05

lying on the counter. Beside the

12:07

car keys and leather wallet, the

12:09

phone unplugged beneath its charger, and

12:11

the wicker basket overflowing with unpaid

12:13

bills. Before I could

12:15

read it, the phone lit up with a succession of

12:17

text messages. With my headache

12:20

spiking, I struggled to read the text. Everyone

12:23

in the neighborhood association, it seemed,

12:25

was sharing observations and speculations about

12:28

the circling helicopters. The police

12:30

cars converging on Kai Jardin, the ambulances

12:32

parked in front of the Shelton's house,

12:34

and the barricades and stretches of yellow

12:36

crime scene tape appearing at the edges

12:39

of the Shelton's property. I

12:41

knew the Shelton house, the biggest in

12:43

the development. A palazzo with

12:45

miniature balconies and wrought iron gates, a

12:48

tiered marble fountain, and a

12:50

circular drive lined with towering cypress trees.

12:53

I'd found the Shelton's ostentatious. Breathing

12:57

from their matching Cadillacs to their marble

12:59

statuary, intolerable. But

13:02

I felt sick reading about the ambulances. I

13:05

sat down the phone and rubbed the crease between

13:07

my eyebrows. When I regained

13:09

focus, I turned my attention to the note.

13:12

It was written in tight, perfectly

13:14

aligned rows on a piece of

13:16

white printer paper. Ted,

13:18

I assume you're at happy hour again and

13:20

didn't remember Chloe's school play. I

13:22

read aloud with a growing tightness in my chest.

13:25

The play means a lot to her, and I

13:27

was hoping you'd show up, but then you haven't

13:30

been showing up for much in a long time,

13:32

between your drinking and your moods. I'm

13:34

taking Chloe and Jade out for pizza after

13:36

the play, presumably without you. We'll

13:38

be home about 9.30 or 10. The

13:41

floor seemed to list as if the

13:43

house were a foundering ship and my

13:45

precarious equilibrium started to slip. I

13:48

leaned against the counter for balance and continued

13:50

reading. It would be better to

13:52

show up late than not at all, but please stay home

13:54

if you're just going to stagger in and cause a scene.

13:57

The spotlight should be on Chloe for once. spent

16:00

adrenaline, and if I was going to

16:02

leave, whether quietly or with some final

16:04

outburst, I could at least leave with

16:07

a shred of dignity. Upstairs,

16:09

I turned on the lights in the master

16:11

bathroom and leaned into the mirror spanning the

16:13

double sinks. I nearly

16:16

recoiled. My face was

16:18

drawn, almost gaunt, beneath a

16:20

shock of salt and pepper hair, covered

16:23

with stubble and deeply creased with

16:25

the corners of my heavily-lidded eyes

16:27

turned downward. I rubbed my

16:29

eyes with my thumb and middle finger, planted

16:31

my palm on the cool marble

16:33

counter and examined a small fishbowl containing

16:36

polished seashells on a bed of white

16:38

sand, a hairbrush with an

16:40

engraved silver handle, and a

16:42

crystal perfume bottle with an antique pump

16:44

and faded cursive label. I

16:47

don't belong here, I muttered, overcome

16:49

by a familiar sense of displacement, and

16:52

turned away from my reflection. I

16:55

might have showered, but I didn't have much time,

16:57

so I just stripped off my shirt and pants,

16:59

splashed cold water on my face and neck, and

17:02

patted myself dry with a fresh hand towel. I

17:05

dragged a stick of deodorant across my armpits,

17:07

freshened my mouth with fluoride rinse, and flossed

17:09

my teeth. Then I

17:11

washed every fleck of food into the drain and wiped

17:13

down the sink with the towel. I

17:16

could do that much for Diane,

17:18

I decided, looking at the anti-aging

17:20

creams and hand moisturizers neatly arrayed

17:22

on the counter, the meticulously polished

17:24

faucets, and the eucalyptus oil diffuser

17:26

plugged into the wall. After

17:29

folding the towel, I rifled the drawers of

17:31

the vanity until I found a bottle of

17:33

Advil buried beneath a variety of scented soaps

17:35

from upscale hotels. It was 8.12 when

17:38

I popped four pills and started packing.

17:41

I didn't take much. I wasn't in any

17:43

state of mind to dwell on the cuts of shirts

17:46

and colors of ties. I didn't

17:48

even bother with a suitcase. I just

17:50

grabbed a Gucci day bag from the closet and

17:52

loaded it with three pairs of socks and boxer

17:54

briefs, a polo shirt pulled from the dresser, and

17:57

a Madras shirt and two beige khakis pulled from the

17:59

dresser. rare

34:00

coins. I'd be in

34:02

Phoenix, swapping the white Camry for a

34:04

blue Nissan by the time Diane even

34:06

registered that Ted wasn't at home. I'd

34:09

be nearing LA by morning when she figured out

34:11

that Ted hadn't slept in the guest room. She

34:14

would notice the absence of her

34:16

Gucci bag and Ted's toiletries and

34:18

probably assume Ted had finally initiated

34:20

the trial separation she had long

34:22

expected and desired. It

34:25

might be days before she discovered Ted's body.

34:28

Based on the pristine condition of her appliances,

34:31

the biweekly visits of the maids she

34:33

hired to sterilize her sprawling house and

34:35

her affected smile in the family photo.

34:38

Diane wasn't the type to take a dip in the

34:40

hot tub to relax. She wouldn't

34:42

dare track dirt from the patio or

34:44

trail water across the kitchen tiles. She'd

34:47

drop an ice cube into a glass of

34:49

Pinot Grigio and slip into a warm bubble

34:52

bath instead. The hot

34:54

tub was essentially Ted's, I figured, and

34:56

if it was chlorinated properly, it would

34:58

be days before Diane detected an odd

35:01

smell and sought out its source, found

35:03

a bolt cutter, or more likely

35:05

wasted money on a locksmith. By

35:08

then, a merry maid would have emptied every

35:10

garbage can and hamper in the house, run

35:13

the dishwasher and washing machine,

35:15

and wipe down every counter

35:17

with disinfectants according to Diane's

35:19

exacting specifications. My

35:21

only hope was that Chloe wouldn't be present

35:23

when someone opened the hot tub, that

35:26

she wouldn't see her half-poached father

35:28

floating face down, mulling in his

35:30

own juices. With

35:32

my headache finally fading, I reenacted the

35:35

scene on the patio. Whatever

35:37

my old therapist used to say, my

35:39

brain is consumed by abstraction and

35:41

analysis as much as it's wired

35:43

for reaction. As I

35:46

neared the trailhead, I identified the real problem

35:48

with Ted and Diane. I'd seen

35:50

it on their faces in the family photo. They

35:53

were wound as tight as watch

35:55

springs, yet ready for nothing. I

35:57

recalled the uncomprehending look on Ted. its

36:00

face as he struggled to sit up in

36:02

his hot tub, slipping and spluttering as I

36:04

rushed him with a loose paver pulled from his

36:06

garden. He hadn't even heard me

36:08

unlatch the gate. He had only

36:10

seen me coming when he opened his eyes to locate

36:12

the glass of wine on the edge of the tub.

36:15

He actually asked, what are you doing? As

36:18

if he required clarification from a man

36:20

obviously poised to crush his skull. I

36:23

could have asked Ted the same question. He

36:25

should have known to go inside with

36:27

so many police sirens wailing and two

36:30

helicopters shining searchlights on his neighborhood. He

36:32

shouldn't have been drinking so much in a hot tub in

36:34

the first place. That's how people drown.

36:37

They get too comfortable and doze off

36:39

like frogs in slowly warming water.

36:43

Ted had been that guy who didn't know

36:45

what was happening as it was happening, whether

36:47

he was drowning in his own drool or confronting

36:50

his killer. He had lacked

36:52

the life experience and instinct to recognize

36:54

a real threat and defend his

36:56

home. As I cracked his

36:58

skull and pushed him beneath the water, he

37:01

didn't even put up a fight. His

37:03

hands were as soft as the seats of

37:05

his Lexus. Honestly, I put

37:07

him out of his misery. I put

37:10

Diane out of hers too, when I

37:12

held Ted beneath the water until he went

37:14

limp and then dropped his

37:16

wine bottle, his stem glass and

37:18

his overpriced paver into the tub

37:20

to mark the timely end of

37:22

an irredeemable drunk. The

37:25

more I thought about Ted, the more I

37:27

realized Chloe would be better off in the long one

37:29

for losing her father. This was

37:32

a guy who hadn't even bothered to sober up

37:34

for his daughter's play. He'd read

37:36

Diane's note and crawled straight into a

37:38

hot tub to stare at the clouds

37:40

in a self-satisfied stupor. If

37:42

I'd murdered her father in a rash moment, I'd

37:45

saved Chloe from years of disappointing

37:48

dealings with a hopelessly ineffectual man

37:51

and from the stultifying comfort and

37:53

emotional neglect that can irreparably harm

37:55

a developing child. I'd

37:57

saved her from a life of learned,

37:59

helpless by instilling a

38:02

healthy fear and a realistic grasp

38:04

of life's inevitable hardships in her

38:06

young mind. My own

38:08

father, for all his faults, toughened me up.

38:10

He taught me to fend for myself. Chloe

38:13

would never see the world in the same

38:15

way as she had as a princess pining

38:17

away in pink taffeta, lost in

38:20

fantasy, and searching in vain for an

38:22

absent father. My

38:24

hope was that she would someday embrace

38:26

her unsparing vision as a gift and

38:30

forgive me her father's murderer

38:32

and that she would see, instead

38:35

of unchecked bloodshed, a

38:37

small act of mercy. We

38:40

hope you enjoyed A Small Mercy. But

38:43

wait just a second, because if this tale

38:45

gave you the shivers, let me assure you

38:47

that truth is stranger than fiction. Now,

38:50

history is littered with true tales of killers

38:52

impersonating their victims. And for

38:54

each example, there's an accompanying unique and wild story

38:56

as to why and how it all went down.

38:59

Serial killers from H.H. Holmes in 1893 to John

39:01

Robinson more than 100 years later carried

39:06

on lengthy correspondence with the families of

39:08

their victims in order to obscure the

39:10

fact of their loved ones' deaths. Mistress

39:13

of disguise, Elaine Parent cozied up

39:15

to lonely women, earning their trust

39:17

over time as a roommate or

39:20

lover, only to later kill

39:22

and in one case dismember them, steal

39:24

their identities and money, and live for

39:26

a time as that woman until the

39:28

money ran out and it was time

39:30

to move on to the next unsuspecting

39:32

target. When Elaine was

39:34

finally cornered, police were only able to

39:37

tie her definitively to one murder, but

39:39

she'd racked up 20 identities by then,

39:42

several of them associated with dead or

39:44

missing women. But in

39:46

perhaps the best such case proving that

39:48

truth is stranger than fiction, the 1997

39:51

discovery of a man shot in the

39:53

neck and half buried alive in Delaware

39:55

would unravel the carefully woven schemes of

39:58

a brutal con man.