Murder Hits the Campaign Trail: An Amy Bell Mystery

By David Schwinger

In October of 2016, Allen Parkman was a charismatic Republican candidate for committeeman in Corville Township, New Jersey. Right in the middle of the campaign season, he was lured to the porch of a house in a run-down section of town, where he was shot and killed. A note was left under the dead body condemning both Allen and Trump. The police were getting nowhere, so the mayor of the township convinced supersleuth Amy Bell to take the case.

Amy realized that there were many different motives for various people to kill Allen. His ex-wife and two children were refusing all contact with Allen after she divorced him due to multiple episodes of cheating. A local Democrat politician might have wanted to get rid of the Republicans’ most electable candidate, who might also carry other Republican candidates to victory. A local Republican might have believed that killing Allen and leaving the note would create a big sympathy vote for Republican candidates.

Then there were the married women whom Allen had propositioned, as well as their husbands. There were also hundreds of investors who had lost money due to the stock-touting scams perpetrated by Allen’s company. And Allen had two partners in his company who might have had issues with him.

Amy was not confident that any of these people would have killed Allen based on those motives. She was also uncomfortable about the note left under the body but couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Would the beautiful and vivacious detective be able to find the key to solving a case that seemed unsolvable? And if she did succeed, could she produce the evidence to bring the killer or killers to justice?

Author David Schwinger, when not writing Amy Bell mysteries—there are now twelve—enjoys composing songs, playing pickleball, and traveling the world with his wife, Sherryl. He first met Sherryl when she was his student in a mathematics class he taught at City College of New York. Their secret romance became the inspiration for his first Amy Bell mystery, The Teacher’s Pet Murders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662406959

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Murder Hits the Campaign Trail

An Amy Bell Mystery

David Schwinger

Copyright © 2020 David Schwinger

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

Although some named locations, such as City College, are real, all depictions of persons, events, and policies at any and all locations in this book are intended to be completely fictional.

ISBN 978-1-6624-0694-2 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0695-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Friday, October 14, 2016

Tuesday, November 15, 2016, Morning

Tuesday, November 15, 2016, Afternoon

Tuesday, November 15, 2016, Evening

Thursday, November 17, 2016

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Monday, November 21, 2016

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Friday, December 2, 2016

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Tuesday, December 6, 2016, Morning

Tuesday, December 6, 2016, Afternoon

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Friday, December 9, 2016

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Monday, December 12, 2016

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Monday, December 19, 2016

Also by David Schwinger:

The Teacher’s Pet Murders

Murder Spoils the Perfect Romance

Murder with Magic

Murder Takes the Top Prize

Murder on the Lido Deck

Letter-Perfect Murder

Willing to Murder

Retirement Was Murder

Reputation for Murder

Murder Couldn’t Wait

Murder Makes Music

To my beautiful wife, Sherryl, and my wonderful friends in our community.

I still pinch myself when I realize how lucky I am!

Friday, October 14, 2016

At 9:15 p.m., Allen Parkman was standing on the porch of a run-down frame bungalow on a desolate street on the outskirts of Corville Township, New Jersey. The interior of the house was dark, and so was the porch, until Allen had, per instructions, flipped the outside switch to turn on the porch light.

When he arrived, three minutes earlier, Allen had rung the front doorbell, just in case, but to no avail. The door was locked, so he was stuck where he was for the time being.

Allen smiled with the knowledge that soon he wouldn’t be alone, and, at that time, the possessor of the key to the house would unlock the front door. The ensuing encounter would be beneficial; indeed, it would be very beneficial!

He had briefly wondered why the encounter was set for this location, but then he realized that the whole idea was privacy, which was, of course, completely understandable.

While waiting, Allen contemplated how well things were going for him. He had only recently arrived in this area, and yet he was now running for a seat on the township’s five-member governing committee. He was running as a proud Republican Trump supporter, and he felt he had a better than fifty-fifty chance to win.

Of course, there was no way he could have stayed in Marland Township, where he had lived for the previous five years. But with affairs of the heart, stuff happens. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And it was well worth the try.

Now, Allen was living within walking distance of the home of his favorite sister, Maureen, who was very enthusiastic about her brother being close by. She also enjoyed campaigning with him, which she had done earlier this evening.

Given the stupidity of a certain percentage of American investors, Allen could run his business from virtually any location. And lately, business was better than ever! Of course, there were a few pending lawsuits—and some angry people—but he was paying a top-notch attorney to make sure he always stayed within the boundaries of the securities laws.

Allen’s contemplations were interrupted by four gunshots which struck him in his back and his head. He died almost instantly. The killer slipped a folded piece of paper under the dead body, turned off the porch light, and escaped unobserved.

The murder would probably have remained permanently unsolved if an unusually perceptive private detective—a liberal Democrat who passionately hated Trump’s guts—had not grudgingly agreed to take on the case.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016, Morning

As Amy Bell sat at her desk in her office at Spy4U Services—in Manhattan, in the Forties, near Ninth Avenue—she decided that the past seven days had comprised the worst week of her life.

Just one week ago, Amy had begun the day in a spirit of vibrant enthusiasm. She had contemplated the future with excitement and joy.

Then, as more and more presidential election returns came in, she became increasingly depressed as well as physically ill. Her head exploded in pain. Her stomach hurt. She started breathing heavily. Not to mention the tears continuingly streaking down her face.

For the next three days, Amy was in neither physical nor emotional condition to come to the office. Yesterday, she made it in at eleven in the morning, sat at her desk, and accomplished nothing until she left at three thirty.

At least her husband, Jeremy Green, had not been rubbing it in. Jerry—which was what she called him—was a Trump supporter, although he was not as political as she, and that was an understatement!

Amy never used the word Trump if she could avoid it. So during the recent election campaign, when she described her husband’s presidential preference to friends and business colleagues, she referred to Jeremy as being a supporter of that racist, sexist, boorish scumbag.

Amy had married Jeremy, in January 2010, with the full knowledge that he was a conservative admirer of Ronald Reagan, while she was a progressive liberal. They had known each other since first meeting at Marty’s, an East Side singles bar, in March 2007 and had progressed from torrid affair to friends with benefits to realizing that they had loved each other all along.

Over the years, when friends asked her how she could have married a Reagan admirer, Amy often told them that sometimes life just smacks you in the ass. But she also mentioned that Jerry meant everything to her and she was so amazingly lucky to have found him.

On election night, Amy’s husband spent most of his time in their living room, sitting on a sofa, watching TV, smiling, and saying nothing. During the succeeding days, he generally stayed glued to the computer, doing his work—Jeremy was an actuarial consultant who usually worked from their two-bedroom, two-bath, co-op Greenwich Village home—and periodically asked Amy if he could go out and buy anything for her, such as pizza, Chinese takeout, or chocolate cake. Amy took him up on his offer several times but had otherwise eaten very little, other than fruit.

This morning, Amy decided she had to conquer her misery, and the only way to do so was to get back to serious detective work. As vice president of confidential investigations, she supervised five subordinates in addition to managing her own cases.

Her boss, Chester Murray, founder and president of Spy4U, had hired Amy part-time while she was still studying at City College. She became full-time in 2007, upon her graduation. He had recognized Amy’s potential early on, had mentored her, and had watched her become the star she was now, having solved over a dozen murders. Chester understood Amy’s political passions, and she knew he would let her take all the time she needed to fully recover from this trauma.

But Amy realized she was not being fair to her Spy4U colleagues, so here she was, ready for action. She had arrived at the office at 9:00 a.m. and informed everyone that she was now doing business as usual.

Amy observed her boss arriving at nine thirty, and after waiting five minutes, she knocked on Chester’s office door. Mr. Murray—Amy never called him by his first name, even though everyone else at Spy4U did—I just wanted to tell you I’m back and at 100 percent.

Great, Amy! Coincidentally, I have a meeting scheduled at ten forty-five this morning with a gentleman who may require your services to investigate a murder. I’ll call you after I speak with him, okay?

For the first time since election night, Amy perked up with interest and excitement. Wow! No problem, I’ll be waiting for your call.

Amy immediately phoned her husband. Jerry, Jerry! Mr. Murray says he may have a new murder case for me to work on! He’s meeting with the potential client at ten forty-five.

Jeremy laughed. Thank goodness! That would be just what the doctor ordered to get you out of your postelection funk.

At this point, he couldn’t resist his first gotcha since the election. So now you may be able to continue with your campaign to make solving murders great again! While Jeremy was in the process of laughing at his own joke, he heard the click of his wife abruptly hanging up.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016, Afternoon

At twelve fifteen, the phone rang in Amy’s office. It was Chester. "Amy, I’ve just spent over an hour with Lionel Morgan. He’s the mayor of Corville Township, New Jersey, and also a member of the township’s governing committee. He wants you to investigate the murder of Allen Parkman, who was running for a seat on that same committee.

However, I have to warn you, Lionel is a Republican and a strong supporter of Donald Trump, and so was Allen. I also have to tell you that Lionel is listening in on this call, here in my office. I have you on speakerphone. Lionel knows about your political views, and he still wants you. Are you willing to consider accepting the case? Of course, he’s ready to come to your office now and lay it all out for you.

Oh my god! moaned Amy. There you go, life, smacking me on the ass again! All three people burst out laughing. When they calmed down, Amy continued, Mr. Mayor, who recommended me to you?

Amy—if I can call you that, and please call me Lionel—Chester recommended you to me. I had never heard of you and your amazing exploits before today.

Amy had expected that response. "Oh, well, I guess if I can go to bed every night with a man who likes and voted for that jerk, then I can investigate the murder of a candidate who supported the same jerk.

Yes, Lionel, of course you can call me Amy, and why don’t you come over to my office now and give me the details of the murder? If I think I can help, I’ll accept the case. But please don’t believe all the hype about me from Mr. Murray. Some of the hype, yes, but not all. This resulted in another three-way round of laughter.

Ten minutes later, Lionel Morgan and Amy Bell were sitting in Amy’s office. Her guest accepted a glass of red wine, while Amy sipped a Diet Pepsi. Lionel appeared to be in his midsixties. He was tall and a bit overweight, with gray hair, and wearing a dark-gray suit. He had a big, welcoming smile. Amy thought he looked just like a mayor should, and she told him so. After a bit of small talk, Lionel began his presentation.

"Our township is governed by a committee consisting of five members, each of whom serves for four years. We stagger the terms, so three committeemen were elected this past Election Day, and the other two will be elected in 2018.

"One of the committeemen is selected by the committee to serve as mayor. The role of mayor is basically ceremonial, aside from his or her normal powers as a committeeman. I have been on the committee for the past twelve years, and I have been mayor for the past six.

"The two committeemen whose positions run through 2018 are both Democrats. Actually, one is a woman, but it’s easier for me to use the term committeeman for everyone on the committee. The three whose positions ran through 2016 are all Republicans, and two of them—Paul Rayfield and myself—ran for re-election this November. The third was moving to Florida, so we needed to have a Republican candidate to replace him.

"Amy, you have to understand that people are not generally clamoring to get on the committee. The pay is five thousand dollars per year—except that as mayor, I get ten thousand—for quite a bit of time and effort. I am independently wealthy, but for as long as I have served, all the other committeemen have needed to continue their outside employment.

"That’s why Allen Parkman’s arrival here last February was a godsend for our party. He immediately joined the township’s Republican Club and had the brains, enthusiasm, and public speaking ability to become noticed and admired by our members. He was also willing to