Electing To Murder: A compelling crime thriller (McRyan Mystery Thriller Series Book) (McRyan Mystery Series Book 4)

by Roger Stelljes

  “I’m counting on it,” the Judge replied.

  • • • •

  Mac and Wire quietly worked through the contents of the notebooks. A few minutes into their review, Mac looked up to Wire and said, “I’m still bothered by one thing.”

  “Just one thing?”

  Mac chuckled, “Well, not just one thing but the one thing bugging me at the moment is how were you tracked to the pub?”

  Wire sat back in her chair. “That’s been gnawing at me too. Originally, I was thinking it might have been through you guys somehow. Not you, Detective, but maybe someone is tapped into the police dispatch system or something along those lines.”

  “Except,” Mac answered, “nobody knew about the call other than me, the chief, a couple of detectives I trust back at McCormick’s house and my uncle, who I called on the way to tell him I was coming. It never went through dispatch.”

  “At least not that you’re aware of,” Wire cautioned.

  Mac thought for a second and then shrugged, “No, you’re right. I need to check that.” He reached for his cell phone and called into dispatch and talked with them for a minute. “Really? Who called that in? And what exactly did he say? Okay. Thanks.”

  Wire raised her eyebrows.

  “I left the scene and that was called into dispatch by the chief. He said I was on my way to McRyan’s Pub and Pat Riley was the detective on scene at McCormick’s. That’s it.”

  “So they could be tapped into your system.”

  “Possible,” but then a skeptical look overtook McRyan’s face. “But I’m dubious that’s the case. The call into dispatch didn’t indicate who I was meeting with, merely that I was going to the pub. I could have been going to meet anyone.”

  “Probably not a secret you’re on this case.”

  “No it’s not, but for someone who is always interested in reaches in logic, this one stretches pretty far. I still think it was something about Montgomery or you.”

  There was a light knock on the conference room door. “Interesting conversation you two were having.”

  “How much did you hear, Jupe?” Mac asked, turning to face his friend.

  “Just a little about being tracked. Sounds fascinating.” Jupiter Jones appeared professionally attired for a computer geek, dressed in a gray University of Minnesota hoodie, weathered blue jeans and black and white Chucky T’s. He strolled over to the closed laptop. “This it?”

  “It is.”

  “Piece of cake. I’m going to grab another conference room and go to work on this.”

  “Take this as well,” Mac handed him the burner phone. “Since you’re so fascinated, see if they were using this burner phone to somehow track Ms. Wire and her friends here, and after you’re done with that I need you to go to work on some photos.”

  Mac took a look at his coffee cup, empty, as was Wire’s. “Let’s take five and grab a cup.”

  Wire walked with Mac to the break room. The pots were empty so McRyan started brewing a new one and the two of them watched the impromptu news conference unfolding in front of Thomson Campaign Headquarters, with the Judge speaking to the media. Sally stood right behind him.

  “This is unusual,” Wire said.

  “What is?” Mac asked.

  “The Judge going on camera.”

  “Really?”

  “For all of his political skill and prowess, the man is not a fan of the bright lights. It’s one of the reasons Sebastian ended up taking a lot of the media interviews and shows at night. He loved it and was really good at it. The Judge,” Wire shook her head, “not so much.”

  “Dixon’s a throwback,” Mac answered. “He’s an old school political power player who likes backroom deals, handshakes and arm twisting.”

  “Exactly, he wasn’t made for this era of nightly political shows and the twenty-four-hour news cycle.”

  “New era,” Mac replied. “But he has Governor Thomson within days of the White House.”

  “Times change, but politics is politics,” Wire replied in kind. “And when it comes to politics, the Judge is the Gold Standard.”

  • • • •

  There was no podium or even a stand of microphones. Judge Dixon was kicking this one old school. He stood in front of the cameras, his hands in his trench coat pockets, his tie loose at the neck. It could have been a press conference of thirty years ago. Judge Dixon looked worn, tired, sad and pissed off all at the same time. It was an iconic image.

  “It is my sad duty to report that Sebastian McCormick was brutally murdered in his St. Paul home tonight. He was shot two times in the chest. His death is a tragedy to his family and to those of us on this campaign who worked closely with him every day. Sebastian was a fine young man, wonderful student and good friend. We will all miss him terribly.”

  “Judge, can you tell us what happened?” CNN asked.

  “I don’t know all what happened. I do know that a man came in the back door of his home and shot him. The killer also shot another man who was visiting Sebastian. That man was shot in the head. This was a cold and calculated murder.”

  “Who is the other man?” CNN pressed.

  “The St. Paul Police Department will have to release his name once his family has been contacted. I will not do that.”

  “But you know who it is?” Local Channel Seven asked.

  “I do.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the death of Jason Stroudt of The Congressional Page who we are now learning was found murdered here in St. Paul two days ago?” ABC News inquired, making a leap that was dead on.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “So you’re saying yes?”

  “I think my answer speaks for itself.”

  “Judge, we’re hearing you were involved in a shooting in downtown St. Paul not long after McCormick was murdered. Is that true?” Fox News inquired.

  “It is. I was going to meet up with St. Paul Police Detective Michael McRyan outside of McRyan’s Pub. Detective McRyan is one of the detectives investigating Sebastian’s murder and he needed to speak with me. A panel van and a SUV rolled up along West Seventh and opened fire drive-by shooting style on me, Kate Shelby and Sally Kennedy, along with Detective McRyan and a few others as we stood on the sidewalk in front of McRyan’s Pub. I am alive as are a few others because of the heroic actions of Detective McRyan and his fellow St. Paul police officers in thwarting that attempt on us. Unfortunately, one officer was wounded in the shooting but I am pleased that he is doing well and I am hopeful he will recover fully.”

  “Why were you meeting with this detective … did you say McRyan?” MSNBC asked.

  “Mac McRyan, yes. I’m not at liberty to say at the moment other than he thought I may have some information about Sebastian that could prove helpful.”

  “Is your campaign under attack? And if so, by whom?” CBS News asked.

  “Sure feels like it. Listen, folks, you know as well as I do, that in a campaign you’re constantly under attack from any number of directions, your opponent, the news media and in this election cycle by independent groups with massive amounts of money to spend,” the Judge answered plainly, but then some emotion seeped into his voice. “But what we have experienced tonight is something completely different. It is an escalation of violence in our politics that is unacceptable in a country as great as ours. We do not live in Libya, Syria or Iran. We live in the United States of America. We have disagreements, we have political differences, but I’m here to tell you that whether Vice President Wellesley or Governor Thomson is elected president, the world will not come to an end for the other side. This is getting out of hand. We need to seriously examine how it is someone has come so completely off the rails in this country to take a step so dramatic and tragic as this. Sebastian was murdered tonight. Jason Stroudt was murdered two days ago and another man was murdered tonight and I and a few others were nearly murdered. The rest of the world is watching. This has to stop.”

  “So Judge, you
don’t think this was some random break-in at McCormick’s home tonight? You’re suggesting that McCormick’s murder tonight was politically motivated?” CNN asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “But soon?”

  “I hope to.”

  “Do you think the Wellesley campaign is behind this?” MSNBC asked. The liberal network would like nothing more than that to be the case.

  The Judge chose his words carefully, he knew some things that would send the media into an even bigger frenzy but he wasn’t yet ready to launch that. The investigation needed to build that case before he could unleash it. “I’ve known Vice President Wellesley for a number of years and he is a man of integrity and honor. He has already called the governor and called me personally just a few minutes ago, offering his condolences and his assistance. He was shocked and dismayed by the events of tonight and if he were standing with me right now, I think he’d echo the things I’ve had to say. The vice president himself has nothing to do with this, end of story.”

  “How about his campaign?” FOX News asked, separating the candidate from the campaign.

  The Judge paused and answered a little more quietly, “I hope not.”

  “But you think this is political?”

  “No question.”

  “So who is behind it?” ABC News asked.

  “I aim to find out,” the Judge answered. “And God help whoever is behind this if and when I do. Good night.” The Judge turned and walked away.

  • • • •

  “Thanks a lot, Judge,” Mac said while CNN switched back to Anderson Cooper, who was working overtime anchoring their breaking coverage of the night’s events.

  “What he said was true,” Wire noted.

  “Not disagreeing, but with that little presser right there the media is going to be all over this thing.”

  “They were going to be anyway.”

  “I know, but now doing our job got just a little harder. They’re going to be all over me and that makes my job harder.”

  Wire had gotten the ten-minute skinny on McRyan from the Judge. One thing the Judge said and chuckled as he said it was how much McRyan hated the media. “But Dara,” the Judge said, “McRyan’s good at manipulating and talking to the media when and if it suits his needs.”

  “Mac!”

  “Yeah, Paddy.”

  “I found the panel van.”

  “Atta boy! Where?” Mac asked excitedly.

  “Easy, cuz. I found it at the bottom of the Mississippi down South St. Paul way, near the old stockyards.”

  “By bottom, you mean under water?”

  Paddy nodded. “I pulled the traffic cameras and pulled the plate. The van was rented from Right-Way Car Rental. I got the GPS for the van and on the map its last position was at the edge of the river based on its history but it wasn’t giving a position update any longer which we thought was suspicious. I went down to the location and there was no van but there are tire tracks leading into the water. I’m betting it’s in the river. The county will get it out of the river but they’re going to wait for sunlight here in a couple of hours. We might get something off of it but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  “Mac!!”

  McRyan and Wire turned to see Riley and Rockford stalking into the detective’s bullpen. Mac had left them behind to work the McCormick scene. “I could use some good news. You two find anything more?”

  “Not a ton,” Riles answered. “My guess is you and Ms. Wire have walked through everything from the shooting, right?”

  “We have,” Mac answered.

  “Well, we can skip that, I guess,” Riles answered. “We canvassed. A lot of people heard the evening’s festivities but nobody saw much, other than the neighbor who had his fence rearranged. He saw the Suburban pull away. As we understand it that Suburban was barbequed on Smith Avenue not long after, so that isn’t new. The neighbor who saw the Suburban couldn’t give us a description of anyone inside the truck.”

  “Buuuut,” Rock added, “we did figure out how Montgomery got up here to St. Paul at least.”

  “Which was how?” Wire asked.

  “Montgomery borrowed a car from a second cousin in St. Louis,” Rockford replied. “The car was a 2001 white Honda Accord registered to David Reeves. We made a phone call and the car was Reeves’s kid’s car and he loaned it to Montgomery. The second cousin said Montgomery needed to hide from someone for a few days and was trying to stay off of the radar.”

  “Yeah, Montgomery told him he was onto a big political story and he needed some time to get the story together without anyone knowing what he was up to.”

  “What story?” Mac asked, looking to Wire in particular. “What the hell did these two guys see?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “We have a theory.”

  Two forty-one a.m. The Judge yawned as he stood on the tarmac at Minneapolis–St. Paul International Airport, as the governor’s campaign jet taxied to the waiting motorcade. Given the night’s events, the media was being kept far away. This would not be a photo-op.

  The cabin door opened on the 737 and the governor emerged from the plane. Governor James Thomson did not cut the quintessential presidential look. While the governor’s father had been a tall lanky Scotsman, his mother was a short black-haired German. The governor clearly obtained his physical stature and look from his mother. He was a stocky man, not quite five feet ten inches tall with a few too many pounds around the mid-section. His salt and pepper hair was tightly cropped to his round head which displayed the cauliflower ears he earned during college wrestling days at the Augsburg College when he wrestled at 150 pounds. He’d put a good fifty pounds on since then. There were no Hollywood good looks with the governor. Rather, he was cut from the working class, the son of a teacher and secretary who put himself through college. He was a man who started and built a small direct mail business into a thriving corporation and sold it for millions all the while working his way up in politics, having started at the city council level, then to the state house and eventually the Minnesota governor’s mansion. It was a background that allowed him to connect with middle-class voters. The governor had the common touch. He was one of them, even with his millions. They had been hard earned. He was the embodiment of the American work ethic, the American dream.

  The Judge had predicted to his skeptical democratic friends that once Thomson’s biography was known nationally, voters would connect with him. He won the Democratic nomination and then campaigned with discipline, consistency and energy that had put him within grasp of the White House.

  They’d run a good campaign, a smart campaign, a pretty clean campaign, but would that be enough?

  Thomson reached the bottom of the steps and the Judge moved towards him.

  “Nice press conference, Joyce.” Only the governor could get away with calling the Judge by his real first name.

  “I thought it captured the moment.”

  “If the moment was for you to look pissed, you’re right.”

  “I am pissed,” Dixon railed. “Somebody is going to pay.”

  “And somebody will.”

  A light drizzle was falling so the two men quickly dove into a limousine. “So what do we know?” the governor asked.

  The Judge reported what he knew, reviewing the call from McCormick, the Judge and Wire’s race to his house, the murder of McCormick and Montgomery, the shooting at the bar and what they’d learned since, which wasn’t much.

  “Is McRyan working the case?”

  “He is, Governor. You know him?”

  “I’ve met him. I know the family’s name. The reputation is well earned. McRyan’s the best around these parts, bureau included. Give him time and he’ll figure it out.”

  • • • •

  Mac yawned and stretched. He was a night owl normally and rarely needed more than four or five hours most nights. It was a trait that served him well in college and la
w school when pulling an all nighter was a way of life. He once went three days sleeping a total of four hours when grinding through college finals. All As on the exams. Of course, once finals week was over he slept for the next two days. But that’s the way it was with him. Go for four or five days full tilt and then his body would make him shut down for a day or two and refuel.

  So at 3:30 a.m. a yawn didn’t mean he was fading, it was simply an interruption.

  He glanced across the conference table and Wire was the same. She was methodically working through one of the other notebooks, jotting down notes as she worked through, occasionally taking a sip of her coffee. Mac was curious as to why she was an ex-FBI agent and would need to get that story.

  So he turned his attention back to the notebook. It was apparent to Mac that Montgomery never went anywhere without a notebook and if the inspiration struck him, he wrote down whatever idea it was he had. There were several articles outlined or written in long-hand. Interspersed with the articles were notes of phone calls, references to other articles, web and blog sites, the odd phone number and random names. As Mac got to each name, he would do a web search of the name to see what popped. Most of the time the names were political, representatives (Mac recognized most senators), staff people, media members and other bloggers. In some cases, the name didn’t bring up anything. In other circumstances, such as a name like Anderson, Smith, Martin or Johnson, the web results were so massive that with the lack of any other identifying information, it would take hours to go through the entirety of the results. Nothing was really popping but Mac was keeping a list on his laptop, just in case.

  As he got to the end of the last notebook, Mac ran across the names Peterson and Checketts, but nothing else was written. Mac typed Peterson and politics into Google and had just north of 45,000,000 results. He clicked through three or four pages but nothing really looked good.

  There was a knock on the door to the conference room. Mac looked up to see Jupiter standing in the doorway. “What’s up?”