A riveting cat-and-mouse suspense thriller about a retired cop and a
couple of unlikely allies who race against time to stop a lone killer intent on
blowing up thousands.
Retired homicide detective Bill Hodges is haunted by the few cases he
left open, and by one in particular: in the pre-dawn hours, hundreds of
desperate unemployed people were lined up for a spot at a job fair in the
distressed Midwestern city where he worked. Without warning, a lone driver
ploughed through the crowd in a stolen Mercedes. Eight people were killed,
fifteen wounded. The killer escaped.
Months later, on the other side of city, Bill Hodges gets a taunting letter
in the mail, from a man claiming to be the perpetrator. Hodges wakes up from
his depressed and vacant retirement, hell-bent hunting him down.
Brady Hartsfield lives with his alcoholic mother in the house where he
was born. And he is preparing to kill again.
Hodges, with a couple of misfit friends, must apprehend the killer in a
high-stakes race against time. Because Brady's next mission, if it succeeds,
will kill or maim hundreds, even thousands.
***
On the back of a forgettable follow-up to one of the finest fantastical fictions he's written, Stephen King delivers a straight serial killer story with a difference of no small significance: in Mr Mercedes, one of our two main characters is the murderer. The other? His next victim, naturally.
The killing starts in the darkness of a day in April, several years before the events documented in the rest of the text. A job fair is to take place at the local auditorium, and the most motivated folks have been waiting at the gates for ages. They say the early bird catches the worm—some of these birds won't last much longer without one—so when a big gray Mercedes rolls up around sunrise, they think it must be the Mayor, come to commend them for their dedication.
It isn't. It's the last thing a lot of the jobseekers will see.
This unsolved homicide has haunted Detective Bill Hodges ever since—even into his retirement, which he hasn't handled well in any event. He's wasting daylight on drink and terrible television, and seriously considering suicide, when he's sent a poison-pen letter, postmarked with a smiley face. Hodges has seen such a sticker before, on the steering wheel of the vehicle of evil, and his hunch is on the money: the note is from none other than Mr Mercedes, taunting him to pull the trigger of the Smith & Wesson he keeps on the occasional table by his chair.
The letter sets off a spark in Hodges' heart; a spark that catches fire; a fire that spreads until it's fully-fledged.
The killing starts in the darkness of a day in April, several years before the events documented in the rest of the text. A job fair is to take place at the local auditorium, and the most motivated folks have been waiting at the gates for ages. They say the early bird catches the worm—some of these birds won't last much longer without one—so when a big gray Mercedes rolls up around sunrise, they think it must be the Mayor, come to commend them for their dedication.
It isn't. It's the last thing a lot of the jobseekers will see.
The car accelerated directly at the place where the crowd of jobseekers was most tightly packed, and hemmed in by the DO NOT CROSS tapes. Some of them tried to run, but only the ones at the rear of the crowed were able to break free. Those closer to the doors—the true Early Birds—had no chance. They struck the posts and knocked them over, they got tangled in the tapes, they rebounded off each other. The crowd swayed back and forth in a series of agitated waves. Those who were older and smaller fell down and were trampled underfoot. (pp.10-11)The driver of the twelve-cylinder sedan kills eight and injures any number of others, and as if that weren't awful enough, he gets away with it as well.
This unsolved homicide has haunted Detective Bill Hodges ever since—even into his retirement, which he hasn't handled well in any event. He's wasting daylight on drink and terrible television, and seriously considering suicide, when he's sent a poison-pen letter, postmarked with a smiley face. Hodges has seen such a sticker before, on the steering wheel of the vehicle of evil, and his hunch is on the money: the note is from none other than Mr Mercedes, taunting him to pull the trigger of the Smith & Wesson he keeps on the occasional table by his chair.
The letter sets off a spark in Hodges' heart; a spark that catches fire; a fire that spreads until it's fully-fledged.