Dead Man Seated

By Aileen Monaldi

It is the year, 2018, and Aileen Monaldi brings us her third book, "Dead Man Seated." It is a fast-moving tale poised to disturb the political world of Washington, D.C. When Madam President turns to the audacious Admiral Armstrong for his covert solutions, all aspects of murder, fun, and romance abound while the admiral's beloved Jack and Annie return to determine who killed the dead man seated?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543956955

Book preview

Author

ONE

aval officer, Capt. Mark Christian, reported to Adm. Downey Armstrong. Unsure if the diagram of commisioned officers referenced his name, Mark knew the admiral’s ‘iron will’ superseded the weight of any pre-ordained published chart.

Downey was the accepted mentor; privately, the reversal was often the more accurate application. Despite their respective ranks or role-playing, Mark and Downey were a team.

Mark walked into Admiral Armstrong’s empty office on the second floor of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building (EEOB). He knew the President’s Oval Office was more historically significant, nonetheless, who could ignore this battleship-sized desk plunked down in the middle of the admiral’s spacious room.

The desk, unapologetically, usurped all the surrounding memorabilia competing for recognition, but ultimately, for those in the know, it was Admiral Armstrong, not the desk that sucked the air from that chamber.

All visitors took immediate notice of Jack Armstrong’s tall, physically fit great uncle with the thick head of gray hair and the ‘locomotive blue’ eyes; an eye label initiated decades earlier.

On bended knees with their heads inches apart, both grandnephew Jack and Uncle Downey were positioning the brilliant blue locomotive on the miniature train track. It was Christmas, the special day Uncle Downey never missed spending with the boy he loved.

In the background, Virginia, Jack’s mom could be heard saying, Guys, your eyes match the new locomotive, exactly. Nobody ever disagreed with her proclamation. One could take Virginia’s word to the bank.

Not for one moment did an unfamiliar newcomer doubt he was standing in the presence of imposing greatness nor did that impromptu assumption alter despite time or distance. Admiral Armstrong was military eye-candy with more than a lingering touch of pizzaz.

Meeting Captain Christian for the first time, the opposite impression occurred. At first, the average person didn’t seize upon Mark’s masculinity, his dark good looks, and natural but loving warmth. Hidden beneath so many layers of military bearing and splendor, a stranger might overlook the real person loitering within the ruddy-complected, handsome facade.

In truth, he didn’t smile quickly. As the person-in-arms standing at the admiral’s side, Mark devoted too many years focusing his military allegiance toward the beloved man who was his mentor and, at times, his tormentor.

Captain Christian was cautious by nature, but everything changed when he relaxed; his entire personality surfaced, and it was love at first sight for every stranger lucky to receive his warm smile of acceptance.

The one bright interruption to the admiral’s office immediately captured Mark’s attention. The beautifully framed wedding picture of Annie, Jack, and Downey. Admiral Armstrong was front and center with his massive arms embracing the newest and greatest loves of his life.

Their smiles radiated happiness, but the admiral’s extra glow bespoke, ‘I brought Annie Graham and Jack Armstrong together. While I have no children of my own, I do now.’

Sergeant Croft, Admiral Armstrong’s ‘spit and polish’ naval secretary, stuck her head in the door and assured the captain, the admiral was on his way from the nearby office of Vice President Billy Daley. Most people referred to the Vice President as Uncle Billy, the Veep, or the Asshole. The latter was applied more judiciously by Madam President and quite openly by the press people when they could get away with it.

Feeling chagrin for the Veep was unnecessary; he was an Aggie who came from Deep In the Heart of Texas and spread his drawl over every bit of it. Whatever ‘uppity class’ demeanor Uncle Billy lacked, Thérèse Lubois, his beautiful wife overcame. Her French Creole ancestry created the classy aura surrounding the down-home ranch that suffered from oil-rig blight.

All co-workers, especially their boss, Admiral Armstrong, knew Sergeant Croft was a cut above everyone else. She walked the official line at all times; bypassing the expected political address was acceptable to the remainder of the world but not to the sergeant.

Her stalwart correctness caused Mark to smile and nod his head at Carol Croft’s steadfast ways. His head nod was agreeing with his passing thoughts: some things never change.

Mark was confident Uncle Billy’s office was within quick walking distance. He knew the second floor was the renown place to be; Mark guessed not many people were more renown than the Vice President. That uncomfortable thought urged Mark to move on to more expedient concerns.

Within his mind’s reverie, suddenly, Mark Christian grasped this meeting was about an urgent task that reached Admiral Armstrong first, and momentarily, it was about to find its way to him. Mark’s silent prayer went up to God. Please, he begged, not anything to do with Uncle Billy.

Experience nudged Mark’s intellect; he smothered any new prayers even before he had a chance to study the decorative ceiling where God had this strange habit of hanging out. Everyone knew it; why else were they always sighing and looking upward. Mark, unable to resist, stole one ceiling glance, thought it was a pretty neat place to loiter but wondered why up there.

Mark admitted he didn’t need answers; he already knew them. Indicative of the ceiling above, anything to do with the admiral was grand, imposing, and exposed to all viewers.

The next sound was loud and deliberate, Mark, my friend, my go-to buddy!

That’s it thought Mark. All hell is about to break loose, and looking briefly at the ceiling, he thought, please, don’t make it all fall right on top of my fucking head. Mark stood immediately, saluted, and remained at attention.

Downey said, At ease, buddy. Lighten up! Sit ye doon.

Admiral, I don’t trust you. It’s better to stand, Sir. You’re about to lower not only the boom but that complicated rigging that makes it all work.

With his deep, authoritative voice, Okay, son, have it your way. You’re right not to trust me. I’m a sneaky bastard, aren’t I?

Unable to maintain the serious demeanor, Downey’s laughter interrupted his delivery; he couldn’t keep a straight face nor the merriment away from his dazzling blue eyes.

Yes, Sir!

Goddamn, but you’re a good man, Mark. Just like my grandnephew, Jack.

Mark turned redder than he was already and prayed to himself. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, please don’t let him drag that poor kid into his craziness again.

Instead, Mark voiced, Admiral, why Jack? He’s about to begin a new career.

Poppycock! He’s the most talented, versatile, qualified Armstrong you and I will ever have the privilege of loving. As for Annie, she’s the finest Graham her progeny ever produced. Smart and beautiful, let’s not forget that. If any two people could be considered natural undercover agents, it’s those two who are our best go-to pair!

Mark’s mind instantly experienced that woe-is-me feeling it encounters when the overbearing admiral with his usual vim and vigor thrusts ill-defined tasks onto his official captain’s lap.

Ignoring his angst, Mark verbalized, Sir, how am I going to entice those two Armstrongs into another naval problem?

Easy, I’ll explain to you; you explain to them. What could be more straightforward?

Why don’t you tell them yourself, Sir?

Are you serious? I’m not the bad guy here; you are!

Downey added, Would you have me ignore Uncle Billy? Think about it, Mark; to whom does he report? Right, Helen Scott, and she’s like confronting three strong women rolled into one terrific president. Even I tread softly and carry no big stick.

Sir, no! I don’t forget Madam President for one second. I maintain a wide berth, too.

Goddamn, I keep saying you’re smart; I knew I could count on you. Take a load off your tootsies and sit next to me while I give you the skinny.

Both men sat knee to knee while Admiral Armstrong lowered the expected boom.

Mark, none of us have forgotten the campaign slander Madam President endured, and now, we have an additional post-electoral attack on her Vice President. The opposition is turning up the rhetoric; this time their target is Uncle Billy. Any way they can continue to discredit Madam President, they will; so, buddy, he’s their next target.

Downey, are their attacks true?

Mark, how the hell do I know? Immaterial buddy, but you have to assemble an undercover team immediately before this gets out of your control.

Sir? My control?

Of course, who else can we all count on? You’ll have the force of the Oval Office, the Vice President, and the D.C. Naval Yard at your command. I’ve made sure there’s no limit to your access for help, and Mark, to highlight your mission, Uncle Billy is in his office right now ready to fill you in on all the dirt. Get to it, Captain!

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, was Mark’s unmistaken lament.

Right, Mark, they’re on standby, too. So, Mark, move it; times-a-wasting, and what’s happening at the D.C. Naval Yard is not going away.

TWO

ood morning, sweetheart," Jack whispered as he stroked away wisps of dark brunette hair tangled within her thickly matched eyelashes. Jack could tell his bride was waking; he wanted Annie to see and feel his presence the second she blinked open those incredibly green eyes.

Hmm, moaned Annie, as she instinctively moved into Jack’s muscular arms. After a month or so of marriage, this ritual was routine. Capturing Annie in his full embrace was the only way to begin their day.

Jack’s long, powerful legs, wrapped around Annie’s beautifully proportioned frame, urged her against his taut body, and gently inspired their morning delights. Sleepy murmurs and random caresses meant to delight each morning’s arousal filled the seconds between sleep and wakefulness.

Although Jack adored her natural beauty, he grew to see her inner, selfless nature was the perfection that warmed their days and nights. Their amazing compatibility was a daily reward, and Jack hoped today was not to be the exception.

If he verbalized a few of the private wishes loitering between mind and lips, will the universe consider Jack’s mumbling to be a proper prayer. Maybe or maybe not decided Jack; prayer requires sincerity of heart. He remembered his mom explaining the value of sincere, and today, this moment, Jack understood Annie was the sincere part of his heart.

Jack, hold me close with your body; I want it locked around me. I don’t want to fall out of bed.

Annie, sweetheart, we’re in the middle of a king-sized bed. How can we fall off?

With her sleepy, exaggerated, little girl voice, Annie inched closer and muttered her stretched out syllables, Well, sometimes—your moves are sooo—incredibly exciting—I feel I have to hold on for dear life—or down we go!

With that last teasing emphasized, Annie looked into Jack’s magnificent blue eyes with a straight face, but he was already laughing at her ridiculous comeback. Jack could never outdo her whimsy; he never tried. His next silent response was to increase his embrace with ardor and enjoy whatever whimsy she had to share.

Jack Armstrong was enjoying his married life and the prospects of a civilian career. His Naval Academy schooling and military resumé did nothing to emphasize his startling blue eyes, coppery blond hair, or his 6 feet 2 inch tall aura of masculinity. Nor did it reveal Jack was a man at ease with himself; eager always to embrace those sharing the world around him.

At the age of seventeen, Jack attained his single-engine pilot’s license, graduated from the Naval Academy at age twenty-four, and moved on to his future training as a Marine Corps pilot. Ultimately, Jack, as a C-130 Marine pilot, flew combat missions over the mountainous Afghan countryside until he completed his active duty assignments.

Acclimating to the new mindset ‘Marine Corps reservist’ was a daily event for him. At first, switching military postures was a trauma, but his ten-day resolution to marry Annie Graham immediately replaced his service connected-angst.

Thanks to Annie, Jack was the newest thirty-two-year-old, free-spirited kid in town. His recently cast off military shackles left him free to choose and embrace a future destiny according to Jack. No longer was he tied to a career inspired by his dad’s and great uncle’s life of military service; a direction, at last, he voluntarily ended.

Their unusual ten-day romance aboard the Golden Riviera was akin to a child’s fairy tale: love at first sight with the handsome hero rescuing the beautiful orphan Annie in distress. Despite the make-believe illusion, the real-life drama Jack and Annie endured was dynamic and not a fiction story to be dismissed lightheartedly.

Despite Annie’s cheerful attitude, Jack felt a few weeks time was not long enough to dim any part of the ten-day Mediterranean cruise. Neither their whirlwind courtship nor the exhilarating hours of those last days could compensate for the treachery of an attempted murder she experienced those final cruise moments.

Are you going to finish the book before we know the outcome of the trial?

Jack continued to kiss her fingertips as he questioned her. His instinctive reactions to any of her visual angsts were diversions he performed, either verbally or physically. At first, an unconscious gesture on his part, but soon he was deliberately tactile during her moments of anxiety. He would be hard-pressed to explain whether the touching connection was for her benefit or his.

Jack, the manuscript is practically writing itself. As to the trial, it doesn’t matter; we’re already living the ‘happily ever after’ end.

Annie, a twenty-eight-year-old adjunct college professor, teaches European history at New York University in Manhattan. Ostensibly, good at her job, approved by the staff, she is loved by her students. While she continues to fine-tune her teaching skills, Annie’s beauty and youthfulness go a long way toward creating the sought after teacher-student compatibility.

Asked once to define Annie with one sentence; without thought, the student answered, She’s a natural.

THREE

anguishing over coffee at the breakfast table, Annie said, Jack, can I ask you something?

Sure thing! Immediately, Jack threw back his head and began to belly-laugh.

What’s so funny, Mr. Jack?

Quick to respond while managing the laughter, he said, "My mind flashed back to the Golden Riviera; the final day we were sailing toward Rome."

Still, in the throes of enjoying his flashback, Jack continued.

Grant and I were in the ship’s library surreptitiously searching for the mysterious book, and here I was with my huge body down on all fours rummaging through the bottom shelf. Grant sidled up to me looking straight ahead while doing his ‘Mr. Nonchalant’ attitude and whispered a question out the side of his mouth. When I looked up sideways from the floor, I answered, ‘sure ting.’ I thought the ordinarily uptight Grant would fall over laughing; the color rose to his face as he whipped around then double-timed away to hide his controlled, but suddenly, out-of-control laughter.

I’m sorry, Annie, what were you going to ask me?

Annie laughed too, but added, No, you’re fine; just some silly female stuff.

Makes no difference. I’m all ears. I can do female declensions, too.

Are you content with the current direction your life is taking?

Annie! You ask the darnedest questions. I love everything about us, and our life is a daily happening worth growing into.

I know, thanks, but right now, I’m focusing on your psyche, not our marriage.

Okay, once before I told you—I do, I react, and I perform without any in-depth thought process. Wait, let me qualify that answer. If faced with a dilemma, I do resort to problem-solving. That’s part of what makes me a proper, functioning pilot, but truthfully, Annie, deep worldly thoughts don’t keep me up at night; if that’s what you’re getting at. Does that help?

Okay, at times, because of my questioning nature, my writing becomes too analytical. I don’t know where to draw the line. Do I quit the wordiness or do I go with my flow?

I get it. You doubt your abilities, and you wonder if I doubt myself, too?

Yes.

Annie, no, I don’t ever doubt myself. I know who I am. From time to time, I do get jammed up with a solution to a problem I’m unsure about, but you’ve witnessed those issues and bailed me out. That’s not the same as analyzing the vast world around me.

Did you ever have growing pains? She hoped he had answers that provided insight.

If you mean was I unsure about whether to go right or go left? Yes, leaving the active military was one overwhelming instance. The second angst I recall were the emotional times I encountered during my early Naval Academy days. Those were the only two problems I grappled with that left me a total emotional mess. By the way, do you want to know the easiest decision I ever made? Asking you, the love of my life to marry me—a know-it-all, cocky stranger who didn’t even have a job.

Buster, that’s it! Let’s go back to bed.

As Jack was about to throw Annie over his shoulder and reenact, ‘Me Tarzan, You Jane,’ his cell phone rang. They looked at each other, but Annie nodded her go-for-it head shake.

Hello, Captain Christian, is that you? Jack glanced over at Annie and their eyes locked together with the mutual understanding they learned to acquire.

Yes, Jack, I’m sorry to say.

Oh, oh, you sound like trouble, and you know it. But now, it was Annie who rolled her eyes to heaven because she too, never forgot Uncle Downey’s words.

Yes, again, and Jack, you would be correct; trouble it is, and Uncle Downey is in the thick of it.

Sir, may I put you on speaker? Annie and I can hear the message together.

By all means, Jack. Annie will have to okay our adventure. If she is amenable, I prefer she join the operation unless it interferes too much with her teaching.

Annie moved closer to the phone while she voiced, We’re listening.

Both of you, this is the hard part. I’m going to request you and Annie come to D.C. before I elaborate upon any issues. This is confidential, and both of you need to be in my office with your essential creds. The problem is asserting itself now, and the quicker we isolate it, the faster we’ll achieve a solution.

Mark, do I have a say in this?

Well, Jack, yes, but your response will have to be focused directly on Uncle Downey’s big blue eyes. Make sure I’m not around if that should occur.

Annie tugged on Jack’s arm indicating a thumbs up gesture.

Jack acquiesced with, "Mark, okay, and how much clothing should we bring?

Well, I believe a combination of Annie’s NYU clothing, cruise ensembles, and casual gear will be appropriate. You, on the other hand, should have your dress uniform and casual military clothing, whatever that entails. The easiest thing to do is make believe you’re back in the Marine Corps and bring whatever personifies Maj. Jack Armstrong.

Annie grabbed the phone and said, Okay, Mark, Jack will be in touch with our travel arrangements.

As Mark disconnected, he wondered if Jack ever visited the acreage documented as the ‘oldest shore establishment of the U.S. Navy.’ Although a small, marshy parcel of land acquired in 1799, today’s onsite land managers exult in its two hundred years of uninterrupted naval history.

Once a beehive of military activity during World War I and World War II; today the Yard serves as the ‘ceremonial and administrative’ center for the Navy, home to the Chief of Naval Operations, and an open-air salute to ‘America’s Naval History and Heritage.’

When comparing military acreage throughout the nation, most military facilities are physically more extensive than the D.C. Naval base. One could loosely compare the Yard to a walk through a small town during a day’s outing. When stacking Quantico’s military acreage next to the Yard’s circumference, a drive through a small-sized state might be the comparison akin to ambling through a small town.

Mark’s reverie concluded with Annie and Jack absorbing not only a slice of history that lingers throughout the many hallways of Washington, but they will learn of the centuries-old pride that still hovers over the D.C. Naval Yard for all to inhale.

FOUR

leased Annie’s name popped up on her cell, Hey, kiddo, what’s up?

Hi Rory, I was hoping you’re not busy. I’m about to run down to the drug store for some quick buys. Can you come? Jack’s in the shower, and this is a good moment for the two of us to catch up on girlie-talk.

Okay, kiddo, I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.

During Annie’s Parisian honeymoon, Rory arranged to lease the identical apartment she and Annie once shared before the shipboard wedding. When Annie and Jack returned, they came home to their newly leased apartment with Rory one floor above.

Positioned next to Rory’s expected elevator door as it banged open, Annie said, God, Rory, when I don’t see you all the time, I forget how beautiful you are. Your hair looks more auburn than I remember, and your complexion is as radiant as a scrubbed peach.

Oh, nonsense, come here and hug me.

As both ladies stepped toward the two outer doors, Rory nudged Annie through first. With arms linked, they giggled, hippity-hopped their synchronized feet while deliberately bumping into each other all the way down the street to the corner drug store.

Since they no longer lived together, they doted on these impromptu, free-spirited moments and quickly shed their womanly facades. Spontaneously, they behaved as girly-girls do despite their grown-up ages.

With her usual bouncy personality, Rory asked, So, what’s up best friend?

Captain Christian has summoned Jack and me to D.C. for a mystery task. Jack’s arranging for tomorrow’s departure with at least one overnighter at the Hay-Adams Hotel.

Still linked together bodily, Rory answered, Okay, Is that good or bad?

Well, I think it probably isn’t good, but If Jack has an inkling I’ve got cold feet, he won’t let me go. Of that, I am positive. Admiral Armstrong is behind Mark’s undercover operation, but Rory, Uncle Downey specifically requested my participation.

Holy smokes, Annie, you’re right. This call to arms sounds serious. Although, realistically, I don’t think Uncle Downey is inclined to put you into a dangerous situation, do you? Maybe he wants you there as Jack’s wife?

Sailing single file through the revolving door, they stopped talking, and Annie headed straight for the paperback books and told Rory, Help me pick out a few mysteries for the both of us to pack.

And just when do the two of you read?

Pointing to the books, Annie giggled, shook her head never but said, Help me, missy.

"Here you go, sweetie: Sue Grafton’s latest Y is for Yesterday and Lee Child’s The Midnight Line. Did we ever figure out why Hollywood chose the 5-feet-7-inch tall Tom Cruise, to play the 6-feet-5-inch tall Jack Reacher?"

Thanks, these are the perfect mystery choices, said Annie.

Reaching for the paperbacks, she continued, But no to your question; we never figured out that puzzle. Let’s go find the toiletry travel aisle and allow Lee Child to solve the short versus the tall mystery because that’s the greatest enigma of all.

Shopping together for years and thinking of themselves as sisters, they had that uncanny sense of when to quit browsing. With all sale transactions satisfied, both ladies tackled the revolving door.

Annie asked, Rory, how about Starbucks?

Yes, let’s do Starbucks. Since you’re leaving town, I need to tell you a secret.

Mid-crossing, Annie said, Oh, good. I need something to think about instead of myself, Jack, and sex.

Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but I’m not about to come up with anything more provocative than those topics, said Rory, as she steered Annie toward their usual mocha-meet.

"I’ll be the judge of that. I’m positive both Jack and I could use a little downtime from me. If I mention that to him, he’ll reassure me six ways from Sunday how much he loves me."

I thought that was what young brides want?

Yes, absolutely, but reassurance becomes a chore when done on-a-daily-basis. Trust me, bolstering someone’s confidence gets old fast. Anyway, I’m interested in you right now.

Seated with their coffee extravaganzas, Rory explained, I’ve been seeing someone for a while; since your wedding to be accurate. How quickly it’s going is my problem.

Wait, Rory, is it Arnie Fifer?

Yes, how could you possibly know?

Jack and I noticed how intrigued Arnie seemed to be with you during the wedding reception. As I recall, he never left your side and grinned at you all the time.

True, but our real connection occurred as we sat at a bar talking while waiting for my Rome departure to New York. Although his D.C. flight was a couple of hours later than mine, I was worried, and he assured me his CIA creds would bypass all boarding issues.

Annie, I liked him immediately; we had fun talking, and we bonded on the spot.

So, what’s the problem?

He’s married, they’re in the middle of a divorce, but thankfully, they have no children.

Oh, Rory, that’s a bummer!

Unphased by Annie’s dismay, Rory continued, Arnold told me the marriage, less than two years old, was in trouble from the beginning. He insisted they haven’t lived together for six months and cites his unpredictable CIA job as the initial irritant even before the wedding.

Then he described their second obstacle: his partnering with the drop-dead gorgeous, Lisa Minelli. Cindy never stopped her disparaging remarks about Lisa, insisted he break up the partnership, and at some point, Arnie realized their marriage was dead on arrival.

Leaning back in her chair, Okay, I guess my first question is, do you believe him?

Yes, I do. I have no reason not to believe Arnie, and I want to trust him. With all the guys I’ve dated, Arnold has affected me deeply, and I think I’m in love.

Cupping Rory’s face, Then what’s the problem? Has he asked to move in with you? Exactly what are you so worried about?