Candidate for Murder

by Lauren Carr

  “Like a psychotic ailment?” Mac asked.

  David was nodding his head. “An ailment that, if it was actually diagnosed by a psychiatrist, could’ve been treated with antipsychotic meds.”

  “The empty spaces on the shelf in her medicine cabinet and on her vanity,” Bogie said.

  “Have we found anything in the trash yet?” David asked.

  Bogie shook his head.

  “The tox screen found no drugs in her system,” Mac said. “But Doc did find gelatin, which indicates that she had taken capsules. Suppose she had been diagnosed as psychotic—”

  “Something her campaign would never have wanted the voters to find out about,” Archie said.

  “If someone replaced her meds with sugar pills, eventually, she would have had a breakdown,” Mac said.

  “According to Dallas’ research,” David said, “if Braxton had been suffering from a form of delusions of grandeur, paranoia would’ve been a symptom. Last night, she had a breakdown, imagined that those closest to her were out to get her, and ran off into the night.”

  “That would explain why she didn’t go to her brother or assistant for help,” Archie said.

  “But then someone did kill her,” Mac said, “which proves that just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t out to get you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Next Morning—Faraday-Thornton Estate, Great Falls, Virginia

  Jessica loved nothing more than waking up in her husband’s arms. Shortly after their wedding, which had taken place fewer than forty-eight hours after they’d first met, the couple had settled into a routine. The many times that Murphy was called away from his “day job” at the Pentagon disrupted it. But upon his return, they would quickly settle back into it.

  While Jessica preferred to wake up well after the sun, Murphy rose promptly at five o’clock in the morning to either run or work out in their gym at home. He would finish off with meditation and yoga. When the weather was pleasant, he would do his meditation in the garden behind their home. Afterward, he would shower and then return to bed to gently wake up Jessica with soft kisses and the scent of fresh coffee in a mug on her nightstand.

  “My favorite time of the day,” she murmured against his chest. She felt so warm in his arms. Those moments were the ones she never wanted to end.

  “My favorite time of the day is a toss-up between the morning and the evening,” he whispered. “Night time is much more—” He searched for the right word.

  “Active?” She looked up into his eyes and grinned. “Mornings can be pretty active, too.”

  His voice was husky. “Prove it, buttercup.”

  She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him. Her mouth was covering his when Nigel said, “Tristan has entered the home with an unidentified person. Would you like me to notify security?”

  They parted with the same intensity that they would’ve parted with if they’d been stunned with a cattle prod. Rolling away from each other, they jumped out of opposite sides of the bed. Jessica reached for her lilac silk bathrobe while Murphy yanked on a pair of sweat pants.

  “That does it!” she yelled while shrugging into her bathrobe. “Nigel is fired! He’s out of here!” She pointed toward the windows looking out across the back garden and the path leading down to the river. “How can we make love with him lurking around and seeing everything that happens? I feel like I’m living with a virtual Peeping Tom who peeps at me twenty-four-seven.”

  “Tristan and his unidentified companion are now removing items from the kitchen and pantry areas” Nigel said in a tone devoid of emotion. “Would you like me to tell security that you are being robbed?”

  “Keep your pants on, Nigel!” Giving up on finding his slippers, Murphy grabbed his nine-millimeter semiautomatic handgun from the drawer of his nightstand.

  Since the security system was monitored by the federal government, the last thing Murphy and Jessica wanted was for Nigel to contact security and cause a SWAT team to descend on their home because Jessica’s brother and an unidentified friend were raiding their fridge.

  “I’m sorry, Murphy, but I am not programmed to carry out that request. As an artificial-intelligence unit, I have no body. That being the case, I have nothing on which to wear pants. Therefore, I have no pants to keep on. Do you have another request to make, Murphy? The unidentified suspect is now in the wine pantry removing three bottles of Talaria wine. Would you like to launch code sixty-six, sir?”

  “No!” Fearing that there wasn’t enough time to put a shirt on, Murphy ran from the bedroom. “Negative on launching code sixty-six! Do not launch code sixty-six!”

  “Where’s Gnarly?” Jessica asked, panicked. “Maybe he’s the unidentified companion.”

  They prayed that the unidentified companion in their home wasn’t someone who had a gun pressed against Tristan’s head and was ordering him to use his security access for unsavory reasons.

  His semiautomatic weapon aimed at the floor, Murphy raced down the stairs to the lower level with Jessica directly behind him. As they approached the kitchen, they could hear Gnarly barking.

  Jessica’s younger brother, Tristan, yelled, “No! No! I give up! I’ll do whatever you ask! Just don’t—”

  Murphy kicked open the kitchen door and flew in with his gun aimed at whomever was making Tristan beg for his life.

  “Don’t shoot!” With his back up against the refrigerator door, Tristan threw up his hands. Jessica’s brother was a proud geek who was tall and lean. A self-proclaimed professional college student, he wore dark-framed eyeglasses.

  Upon seeing the back of the woman who was holding the waistband of Tristan’s pants out as far as they would go while aiming a can of whipped cream down into them, Murphy lowered his gun’s aim to the floor.

  When the playful encounter was brought to an abrupt halt, Gnarly stopped barking and sat down. His ears standing tall, he cocked his head at the can of whipped cream. Spencer poked her head out from behind the granite-topped island in the center of the gourmet kitchen. A large Amazon pantry box filled with the food items that the pair of thieves had been pilfering rested on top of the island.

  The athletically slender young woman with long auburn hair that fell in a silky wave down past her shoulders turned around from where she had Tristan held up against the fridge to face Murphy and Jessica. She was dressed in a navy-blue tank top and blue jean short shorts. Her feet were bare. Instead of looking guilty about being caught in the act, she looked amused.

  “Sarah wanted to show me a trick with whipped cream that she saw in a movie.” Tristan snatched the can out of her hand and put it in the box. “I wanted to wait until we got back to the cottage.”

  “Dad told me you were on a mission out in the field,” Sarah Thornton said to Murphy with a bit of annoyance in her tone.

  “I was,” Murphy said to his younger sister. “I got back the day before yesterday.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to give your baby sister a hug?” Sarah thrust the can of whipped cream into Tristan’s hands and ran up to Murphy to give him an enthusiastic hug and kiss. “I’m so glad you’re home safe and sound,” she whispered into his ear.

  “So am I, sis.” Murphy set the gun down on the island and peered into the box to see what the couple was stealing from their kitchen and pantry. The three expensive bottles of wine that Nigel had warned them about were among their stolen goods.

  After hugging Jessica, Sarah folded her arms and playfully glared at Murphy. “You do realize you missed your own twin brother’s graduation. I was there.”

  “I know. I didn’t have any choice in the matter.”

  “J.J. is your identical twin.” Sarah poked him in the chest. “You two even share DNA. You’d said you wouldn’t miss J.J.’s graduation from law school for the world.”

  “Well, I had no choice, Sarah. You’ll
know what I mean when you graduate from the naval academy. I already talked to J.J. and Dad. I’ve got some vacation days, and once I get this next assignment done, Jessie and I are going to try to go see J.J.”

  “Did you give the dogs hollandaise sauce?” Jessica was examining the three dog-food bowls lined up along the wall next to the pantry.

  “Actually, it’s a cheddar-cheese sauce,” Tristan said. “I went ahead and fed the dogs for you—sort of as a thank-you for letting us steal your food.”

  “Why didn’t the two of you just go to the store and buy food?” Murphy asked. “It isn’t like you have no money, Tristan.”

  “Because then I’d have to get in the car and go to the store and buy food and bring it home and put it away.” He hugged Sarah. “Sarah only has a few days before she has to report back to Annapolis.”

  Sarah took the can of whipped cream out of the box. “And we have stuff we wanna do.” With a wicked grin, she sauntered to the door and opened it.

  Jessica was still staring down at the dog-food bowls from which Gnarly was licking up the very last remnants of the cheese sauce. “Tristan, didn’t Dad tell you that Gnarly is lactose intolerant?” There was panic in her tone.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I think he did mention that.” Tristan picked up the box. “Whatever.”

  Remembering the events of the last few days, Jessica rushed across the kitchen toward her brother. “Aren’t you even going to ask how Dad is?”

  Tristan stopped and turned to her. “He’s fine and out of the hospital.”

  “You talked to him, then?”

  “No, I’ve been too busy to call him.” Tristan shot Sarah a wicked grin. “But since you’re here, I figure he must be out of the hospital. You’re not crying, so he must not be dead. Therefore, he must be fine and out of the hospital.”

  “Looks like deductive reasoning runs in the family,” Murphy said.

  “Well, our work here is done,” Sarah said. “Come on, Tristan. I can’t wait to show you this trick.” After Tristan went out the door, she turned back to Jessica and waved the can of whipped cream. “I don’t suppose you have another can of whipped cream, do you?”

  “No,” Jessica said with a frown.

  With a pout, Sarah left, closing the door behind her.

  Murphy and Jessica looked at each other. After a long silence, she said, “I bought that can of whipped cream for you.”

  “Sarah is always stealing my toys,” Murphy said. “We should have let Nigel launch code sixty-six.”

  “What’s code sixty-six?” she asked while filling a mug of hot coffee since she had left the one Murphy had brought her up in the bedroom.

  “It’s a security system that we’re testing out,” Murphy said. “It’s directly tied into Nigel.”

  “I thought our security system was patched into a section of the FBI,” Jessica said. “If the estate gets broken in to, Nigel will tell us about it and notify the feds, who’ll come out with their guns blazing.”

  With a grimace, Murphy leaned on the granite island with both of his hands flat. Her violet eyes narrowed, Jessica cocked her head at him.

  Finally, he said, “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

  “While setting up Nigel, the IT folks really went all out with him. Since Tristan was setting up the smart features, he had some programming ideas for the security features. He met with the cybersecurity team, and they all got very excited.”

  “How excited?”

  “Let’s just say that together, they all released their inner Tony Stark.” Seeing the question in her eyes, he said, “Tony Stark. Iron Man. Jarvis, his artificial-intelligence butler.”

  “Huh?”

  “The way the system is supposed to work, if someone breeches the estate’s security system, Nigel will do more than just notify us and the feds. He’ll go into defense mode. Code sixty-six.”

  “If someone breaks in, we’ll go into the panic room, and the house will be locked down until the authorities arrive,” Jessica said. “Doors and windows will be secured. Everything is bulletproof. Right?”

  “If it’s only one or two guys, I can take them on,” Murphy said.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” she said. “In the meantime, tell me about code sixty-six.”

  Murphy went over to the kitchen table and sat on top of it. “Okay, Nigel will go on the defensive. Ideally, if the security system is breached out at the fence or the gate, then everything in here and in the garage will be locked down before the bad guys can get here. Nigel will resecure the fence and the gate, and the bad guys will be trapped here until the authorities arrive to take them away.” With his hands, he illustrated the bad guys being taken away.

  “Good,” she said. “Code sixty-six sounds cool so far.”

  “That’s assuming the bad guys are just some common run-of-the-mill house burglars looking to steal our laptops,” he said. “However, if Nigel senses the use of force or violence—like if his audio picks up gunfire or the bulletproof windows or walls are shot at—that’s when things will get interesting.”

  “How interesting?”

  “Nigel will launch code ninety-nine.”

  “What’s ninety-nine?”

  “Nigel will switch from defense mode to offense mode and will use lethal force against anyone on the property who he determines is a threat to those listed as friends or family members in his contacts.”

  Jessica was doubtful. “How could a house go on the offensive?”

  “It’s a smart house, Jessie,” Murphy said. “Tristan and the cybersecurity team set it up so that it knows who is in which room.” He gestured down at the game room. “Think about it. Nigel knows what shows Newman likes to watch. Newman barely has to change the channels anymore. Nigel knows his schedule and switches them automatically. Nigel can regulate the temperature of your bath water. He makes your latte in the morning without your programming it.”

  “I don’t think Nigel could take out bad guys,” Jessica said.

  “It’s a beta system.” Murphy took her into a warm hug. “So it may not even work.”

  “If it does work, what will it do? What can a house do against a burglar?”

  Murphy shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. You know Tristan and how computer geeks are. It will probably flash a bunch of lights and make a big racket.”

  “Whatever made you agree to let them install this thing in our house when you don’t even know what it can do?”

  Murphy shrugged. “Chalk it up to a boy and his toys.”

  “I felt more secure when the only security we had were our guns and our dogs,” she whispered into his chest.

  “By the way, where’s Gnarly?”

  “Gnarly is now in the backyard,” Nigel said. “I let him out through the patio door off of the game room.”

  “Why did you do that, Nigel?” Murphy asked.

  “Because he asked me to let him out, Murphy,” Nigel said. “And Jessica told me to save his voice and to remember that he’s a family member, which means that he is cleared to make service requests.”

  With a growl, Murphy went down the stairs to the game room.

  “Would you like me to save Sarah Thornton to your friends-and-family database, Jessica?” Nigel asked.

  “Yes, Nigel,” Jessica said with a sigh. “How did you know her last name was Thornton? We didn’t—”

  “I ran her face through the federal facial-recognition program,” Nigel said. “Sarah Jane Thornton. Twenty-one years old. This upcoming fall she will be a third-year cadet at the United States Naval Academy. If you would like, I can access her fingerprints from the military database for our records. However, I will still need to scan her retina for the home’s security system.”

  “That’s enough, Nigel,” Jessica said with a sigh.


  “Would you like me to remind her that she needs to renew her driver’s license? Her current license will expire in twelve days.”

  “Sometimes I think you’re too well connected, Nigel.”

  On the lower level of their home, Murphy’s Bassett hound mix, Newman, was sprawled out in his own worn chair on which he watched television twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week with breaks only to eat and to go outside via the patio doors off of the game room.

  As soon as the blue shelty, Spencer, saw that the door was open, she raced out to play with the German shepherd.

  Distracted by a morning news show, Newman refused to budge.

  “We should get another dog,” Jessica said with sarcasm while handing a mug of green tea to Murphy.

  “The next addition to our family is going to be a baby.” Murphy draped his arm across her shoulders.

  Jessica gave him a soft smile. “We’ll talk about that after I get my doctorate.”

  “And now for a breaking-news item,” the female host of the news program said. “It seems that one small-town mayoral race in Western Maryland is drawing more national attention than our current national election. The other day, the political front-runner, an army veteran named Gnarly Faraday, a five-year-old German—”

  “Gnarly!” Jessica whirled away from the open patio door and scurried across the room to watch the big-screen television mounted on the wall. Murphy was right behind her.

  “—ambushed at a debate when the host revealed that the mayoral front-runner was a prime suspect in the murder of his handler, First Sergeant Belle Perkins, who was killed in her tent during the night while serving on a mission in Iraq four years ago.”

  Looking proper, the news anchor said, “Well, just minutes ago, in an unprecedented maneuver, the US Army released a statement to all news agencies announcing that journalist Salma Rameriz’s information was incorrect. The statement from the public affairs office of the US Army says the following.”

  As she spoke, the words appeared on the television screen.

  “While this office and the US Army are unable to comment on the specifics of their investigation into the brutal murder of First Sergeant Belle Perkins, her teammate Sergeant Major Gnarly is not and never has been a suspect.”