Candidate for Murder

by Lauren Carr

  “Is he okay?” Seeing Gnarly’s limp body, Jessica feared the worst.

  Tristan and Sarah laid Gnarly on the shore. All three of them stared at the German shepherd. Spencer sniffed him.

  Then they saw Gnarly’s chest expand. He let out a deep breath. A deep gurgling sound came out of his throat.

  Tristan and Sarah smiled at each other.

  Frantically, Jessica turned back to the river to search for her husband.

  The waterfall had plunged Murphy down to the bottom of the river. Fighting to get to the surface so that he could get some air into his lungs, Murphy was aware of someone else nearby when he hit the surface. As luck would have it, that someone was Tucker, who had hit the surface before him.

  With his knife poised to strike, he was waiting for Murphy to come up for air.

  After taking in one quick gulp of air, Murphy dove back down and plunged his shoulder into Tucker’s chest. His hope was that he would knock the air out of the gunman, who would then be at a disadvantage if Murphy managed to get him back underwater.

  When the knife came down, Murphy dodged the blade and grabbed Tucker’s arm.

  The river’s current continued to sweep the two men downstream. Kicking and punching, they were battling not only each other but also Mother Nature. At one point, after they had been pushed against a rock, Murphy was able to pound Tucker’s hand and to make him release the knife, which washed downstream. Grabbing Murphy around the neck with both hands, Tucker shoved him down into the water.

  Holding his breath, Murphy fought to keep his wits about him and to think his way out of the situation. Grabbing his assailant, Murphy recognized the feel of the items he was wearing on his utility belt. Finally, he recognized the shape of a Taser.

  Feeling Murphy’s body go limp, Tucker grinned.

  Mission accomplished.

  Never had it occurred to him that a simple navy lieutenant who pushed paper at the Pentagon would be so hard to kill.

  Give him another minute underwater to make sure he’s dead.

  Before Tucker could start counting, an electric shock shot through his body and sent him flying backward. Jerking and flailing, he hit the water like a human lightning bolt.

  Murphy jumped up out of the water and gulped in as much air as he could before shooting Tucker once again with his own Taser until his body went limp.

  In silence, he floated facedown in the river’s current.

  “Murphy!” Jessica’s cry was like a song to Murphy’s ears.

  Exhausted, he searched the shoreline to get his bearings until he felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest. “I’ve got you, bro,” Tristan said into his ear before helping him swim to where Jessica and Sarah were waiting on the shore with Spencer and Gnarly.

  Upon reaching the shore, Murphy dropped to his knees and let Jessica take him into her arms. Tristan and Sarah went back out into the river to retrieve Tucker’s dead body. Offering her own comfort, Spencer gave Gnarly a tongue bath.

  Tightening her arms around Murphy, Jessica uttered a sigh. The reality of how events could have played out that evening hit her. What if Nigel hadn’t worked? The death squad would have killed Tristan and Sarah.

  She watched Tristan and Sarah drag the last assassin—drowned in the river after Murphy had knocked him unconscious with his own Taser. That could be Murphy that they’re dragging out of the river.

  Suddenly, a blown-up kitchen didn’t seem so bad. She tightened her arms around Murphy, who, in his wet clothes, was shivering in the cool night air. He reached up to kiss her on the neck.

  “Call me conservative, but I think three dogs are one too many,” Murphy said, “especially when one is Gnarly.”

  Epilogue

  Potomac, Maryland

  Camille Jurvetson sensed that her luxurious million-dollar home was too quiet when she woke up. Upon checking the time on her clock, she found that she had slept in.

  “Ingrid!” Camille threw back the covers and marched to the door of her master suite. “You didn’t wake me up!” Snapping orders, she snatched her bathrobe from the bed and rushed down the stairs. “Where’s my breakfast? Call the DCI, and tell him that I’m going to be late for the morning briefing.”

  When she arrived in the dining room and found no breakfast waiting for her, Camille realized that something had to be wrong. She charged into the kitchen. No cook.

  “Brett!” she said, calling for her assistant, who always went over her day with her during breakfast.

  “Breaking news,” a voice coming from the television said. “The Department of Defense just confirmed that one of ISIS’s top leaders, the third in command, was killed two hours ago in a drone attack—”

  No! Not him! How did they find him!

  She rushed to the front door and hurled it open. No car or driver. Worse yet, no security.

  Camille Jurvetson was alone.

  “What the hell!” She ran for the phone. Her fingers shook when she dialed the emergency phone number.

  “Yes, Ms. Jurvetson?” a sultry, feminine voice said.

  “My security detail is gone!” Camille fought to keep the panic out of her tone.

  “Yes, it is. You terminated your security detail as of midnight last night.”

  “I did not.”

  “I’m afraid you did,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “We recorded it.”

  “I need it back—immediately! I’m the director of operations at the CIA! If our enemies find out that I don’t have any security—”

  “Ms. Jurvetson, you sound frightened,” the voice said in a cool tone.

  “I did not cancel my security,” Camille said with a hiss. “Someone else did it to leave me vulnerable to our country’s enemies.”

  “Oh,” the voice said. “How does it feel to have been abandoned?”

  The click behind her brought home the price she would have to pay for her betrayal.

  Camille placed the phone back on the table. Slowly, she turned around and found Tawkeel Said aiming a gun at her.

  “Good morning, Ms. Jurvetson. We have not formally met. I am one of the agents who you sold out. Now it is time for you to pay up.”

  Election Night

  Dallas Walker’s blog announced the news to the world:

  “American Politics Goes to the Dogs! Gnarly Wins by a Landslide!”

  One week before the election, Gnarly had been awarded the Canine Congressional Medal of Honor for saving the lives of his unit during a firefight in Iraq. He had made the national news. The picture of his girl Storm “kissing” him on the face while he proudly wore his medal was shared across the social media worldwide.

  The Belgian shepherd’s sable coat had grown back and Storm was once again her conniving self—especially when Gnarly was around.

  During the same ceremony, First Sergeant Belle Perkins had been posthumously awarded the Soldier’s Medal. Her daughter, Kelly, had tearfully accepted the award for her.

  After Murphy briefed Sheriff Turow about the details of his wife’s murder, the sheriff and his daughter went public about their family’s special relationship with Gnarly, even offering darling pictures of the national hero as a puppy. Once they had closure, Sheriff Turow and his daughter were able to move on. Even Mac and David didn’t miss the fact that Roxie Greyson was becoming a regular visitor to Spencer.

  Once his name had been cleared, how could anyone have not voted for Gnarly—the only candidate who had risked his life by running into a fiery inferno to save a mother cat and her one-hundred-and-one baby kittens?

  Gnarly was not only the best choice but also the only choice.

  One of his opponents had been murdered, and the other had been arrested for murdering his brother. David’s cell phone recording proved invaluable to the prosecution’s case against Bill Clark. Not only did it prove the councilman’s intention
to kill the police chief, but the recording also captured Clark admitting that he’d killed his brother. The town councilman had gone directly from the emergency room to jail.

  Both political parties ended up in hot water. Hugh Vance’s laptop contained a wealth of evidence about Braxton Charities. It turned out that Hugh had been a bipartisan money launderer who’d kept very good records. His unsavory clients had included politicians, party leaders, presidential appointees, lobbyists, and even a few judges—enough to launch a major federal investigation with a special prosecutor.

  However, the list of Braxton Charities donors also included celebrated members of the mass media who either accepted hush money or buried stories of corruption involving politicians of their favorite political party. As a result, the mainstream media attempted to ignore the federal investigation of what appeared to be widespread political corruption—until Dallas Walker published the details, complete with a list of names and dollar amounts, on her blog. Immediately, the story was picked up by a few brave news services and shared on social media. Gradually, people learned about the hard-to-ignore proof of what many had suspected for a very long time— politics and morals did not necessarily go hand-in-hand.

  Dallas’ news breaking exclusive captured the attention of her late mother’s publisher, who offered her a huge advance to write a book detailing her investigation of the Sandy Burr murder and Braxton Charities, which she turned down in favor of co-authoring the book with Archie Monday. Both agreed to credit Sandy Burr and give royalties from all book sales to his family.

  Upon hearing about Dallas and Archie’s partnership, Mac chuckled. “Admit it. Dallas is growing on you.”

  “No, she is not,” Archie said. “It’s just…she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “What kind of offer?”

  “Let’s just say the next cruise we’re going on will be on the Walker yacht, which is Texas huge.”

  Mac folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, so Dallas is buying your friendship?”

  He swore he saw sparks shoot out of Archie’s eyes. “Now you know full well that my friendship can’t be bought!”

  “Yes, I do,” Mac said. “I also know you refuse to work with anyone who you don’t like. So, Dallas must be growing on you.”

  Growling about the lack of a come-back to his accusation, she trotted downstairs to the study to go over the outline Dallas had sent for their book.

  With a shake of his head, Mac returned to writing Gnarly’s acceptance speech.

  With only one mayoral candidate left standing, election day ended up simply being a formality and a celebration.

  Gnarly’s campaign headquarters was the Spencer Inn, which was packed with seemingly every resident of Spencer, all of whom wanted to meet and congratulate the new mayor. Every section of the media was on hand to interview Mac, who was Gnarly’s representative, and Gnarly’s campaign managers, Bernie and Hap. Everyone wanted a picture with Gnarly, Spencer’s first canine mayor. Not wanting to be left out, Storm, wearing a diamond encrusted collar for the event, often barged in and had her picture taken as well.

  In the evening, the polls closed, and the votes were tallied–even though it was only a formality.

  In a small conference room off the stage area, Mac went through the speech that he had so carefully prepared.

  Exhausted after a day of pictures, hugs, and stealing goodies out of every handbag that he could stick his snout into, Gnarly was sprawled out at Mac’s feet. Some of his stolen goodies were cheese cubes, which had given him a tummy ache. Upon spotting Archie and Dallas looking for Mac, he rolled over onto his back and groaned. As he had hoped, Archie knelt to give him a belly rub. Storm joined in by licking his snout.

  “He brought this on himself,” Mac said. “You should let him suffer.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Archie said.

  “I’d be nice to him if I were you,” Dallas said, “he’s your new mayor.”

  “Only because both humans running against him are either dead or in jail,” Mac said.

  “I wonder what that says about us humans?” Dallas asked. “I mean what are the odds of both human candidates being slicker than a couple of slop jars?”

  “I don’t think it’s as much a comment about humans as it is about what our country has turned politics into,” Archie said, “and the type of people our political system attracts.”

  Mac set down his notes. “Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

  While Dallas shook her head, Archie said, “It’s the chaos theory, which I think very much applies to what happened when Gnarly entered the race for mayor.”

  “According to the butterfly effect,” Mac said, “a butterfly flapping its wings in New Mexico can cause a hurricane in China.”

  “Not all the time,” Archie said. “If the butterfly flaps its wings at just the right time and place, then the hurricane will happen. If not, then the hurricane won’t. It illustrates how small changes in the initial condition can cause drastic results.”

  Finished with the tummy rub, Archie stood up and took Mac’s notes for his speech to look over. Storm moved in to lick the top of Gnarly’s head. Content with the the pampering, the German shepherd appeared to have fallen asleep.

  “Small changes,” Dallas said. “Yes. Like Gnarly and Storm eating our dinner, which made us go to the Spencer Inn where Bill and Nancy got into a brawl, causing David to arrest them. They made David mad, so he threw Gnarly into the race for mayor.”

  “Which threw the whole race into chaos,” Mac said. “If Tonya hadn’t told you about the Sandy Burr case, you and Archie would have never looked into the case to find his and Fiona Davis’ killer.”

  “Gnarly entering the race brought national attention to the campaign,” Archie said. “Between the scrutiny of the media, Bill Clark being a dirty politician, and David suggesting another look at the Sandy Burr case, Hugh was pushed over the edge and killed Nancy.

  “And if Erin hadn’t taken Nancy off her meds,” Dallas said, “then she wouldn’t have become a loose cannon, which presented the opportunity for Hugh to kill her.”

  “If Gnarly’s opponents hadn’t dug up Belle Perkins’ murder,” Archie said, “then Murphy and Jessica would have never uncovered the truth. The army would have just gone on assuming that it was a runaway contractor.”

  “Which led to uncovering a traitor who was in line for a presidential cabinet position,” Mac said.

  “Not only that,” Archie said, “but if Gnarly hadn’t run for mayor, then Bernie and Hap would never have broken into Bill Clark’s house and found the evidence to prove he killed his brother. He would have gotten away with murder for the rest of his life.”

  “All that happened because Gnarly broke in off the deck to steal our dinner,” Dallas said. “Whoever would have thought?”

  The three of them looked down at where Gnarly was sprawled out at their feet. With Storm licking the side of his head, he was in a state of complete contentment. Without moving a muscle, he flicked his eyes from one of them to the other.

  Spotting Mac, Bernie and Hap trotted into the room. “We’re so glad we caught you,” Bernie said. “We didn’t want to forget to give this to you.” At Bernie’s direction, Hap shoved an envelope into Mac’s hand. “It’s our bill.”

  “Bill?” Mac’s eyes grew wide.

  “For managing Gnarly’s campaign.”

  “I thought you were volunteers.” Mac’s voice went up an octave. With trepidation, he opened the envelope. Equally concern, Archie peered at the bill while he opened it.

  Bernie and Hap laughed and jabbed each other in the ribs. “See, Hap, I told you. Even with all of his millions, Mac Faraday is just like a regular guy—with a sense of humor and all.”

  Upon reading the final figure at the bottom of the bill, Mac clutched his chest. “Seriously? Are you guys serious?”
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br />   “You can’t say we didn’t do a good job,” Bernie said. “Gnarly got two thousand five hundred four percent of the vote. And only eight percent of the votes were from dead people.”

  With tears in his eyes, Mac scanned the itemized list. “Website. Nationally televised commercials?” He shook the bill in his hand. “This is a small town! Fewer than a thousand registered voters. Gnarly didn’t need a nationally televised commercial during Saturday Night Live.”

  “He needed the millennial vote to win,” Bernie said. “And it worked. Twenty-two percent of Gnarly’s votes were from millennials.”

  “But only two percent of them actually reside in Spencer.”

  “Well, if you’re gonna be legalistic about it.”

  Mac held out the bill so that Archie and Dallas could see it. “This is insane!”

  “Does that mean you won’t allow Gnarly to go to New York to be the guest host on Saturday Night Live next month?” Both men stuck their bottom lips out in a pout. “Hap and I were really looking forward to meeting Tina Fey. She’s gonna do a skit with Gnarly.”

  Onstage, David said, “Ladies and gentleman, our best friend and mayor, Gnarly!”

  “We’ll take a credit card.” Bernie held out his cell phone, which had a credit-card swiper attached to it.

  Without answering, Mac grabbed Gnarly’s leash, and the two of them trotted out onto the stage to where David was waiting at the podium.

  Exhausted and sick with a tummy-ache, Gnarly plopped down next to the podium. Oblivious to the standing ovation in his honor, Spencer’s new mayor closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  When David reached out to shake Mac’s hand, Mac shoved Bernie and Hap’s bill into it. Giving his brother a hug, Mac whispered, “You nominated him. It’s your bill.”

  David’s brow furrowed with confusion. Taking the sheet of paper, he made his way off of the stage as Mac turned to the mic. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! The people have spoken, and they said—”

  “Are you kidding me!”