The Senator's Murder

Book summary

Steve Anders, chief of staff for Senator Edward Buchanan, faces a life-altering accusation of theft and is subsequently fired. When the Senator is murdered that same night, all evidence seems to point to Steve. As his attorney Adam Lucas fights to clear his name, a politically charged trial unfolds, revealing shocking truths.

THE SENATOR'S MURDER is a gripping political thriller.

Excerpt from The Senator's Murder

Jack Anders’ face hurt from smiling. It happened at every political

fundraiser he attended. There were perpetual handshakes with “Class A” donors and a host of lesser-known climbers who managed to get a foot in the door. There was a parade of familiar and unfamiliar faces shaking hands and grinning widely, conveying that they were delighted to meet Jack, or to see him again, having not seen him since the last fundraiser. By the end of this kind of an evening Jack had typically managed to collect pledges for several million dollars for the candidate and sore cheeks for himself. It was all about getting the money people motivated to appear. If he got them in the room, by convincing them that the candidate was on their side, he would separate them from their expansive wallets. It would then be up to his firm and the successful candidate to turn these moments that inspired supporters into policy and position that, at least to some extent, was consistent with the goals of the donors.

Jack had been around politics for the past twenty years, and at forty-five he was well known in both Republican and Democratic circles. He had good looks of the Robert Downey, Jr. sort that featured watchful blue eyes, a full head of black hair accentuated by a little grey, a strong chin, and a compelling smile. He also had an air of confidence and a professional reputation for listening to reason, and getting deals made.

This particular fundraiser was for Senator Edward Buchanan, a four-term senator running for a fifth, and overly confident that the seat was his to retain indefinitely no matter what he chose to do. Senator Buchanan was a lightning rod for supporters of both parties because he made it his practice to overstate his successes and vilify his opponents. The republican right loved him, and the democratic left viewed him as a disease that they feared might be contagious. The moderates in both parties, to the extent they still existed, tolerated the excesses of his pronouncements but viewed them all with a mountain of salt. But in these turbulent and tribal times, extreme candidates could raise money, and in Senator Buchanan’s case, he could narrowly win elections and claim that he won by a landslide and carried a mandate, all of which he could deliver with a straight face.

The event filled the grand ballroom in the ostentatious home of a billionaire who made his money in oil investments and wanted the push toward electric automobiles and alternative energy sources slowed as much as possible. If having a grand ballroom in one’s home wasn’t pretentious enough, the billionaire host had convinced Senator Buchanan to accept a huge donation to his PAC in an unspoken exchange for access to the Senator and input concerning legislation that was of interest to him. It all worked well for this and other billionaires since the United States Supreme Court had determined that massive gifts to political PACs were simply “free speech,” under the Citizens United decision, and protected under the First Amendment. Go figure.

Jack regarded his watch, silently pleadingly with it to move more quickly. It was eleven thirty. The multitude had been fed and wined, the donations had been painfully extracted, and Jack was more than ready to go home. Unfortunately, no one was moving towards the door, and no one was encouraging the crowd to do so. The fifteen-piece band played, and the joyous attendees danced, drank, and pontificated. As was common to these events, everyone talked, and few listened.

Jack’s partner, Lynn Nelson, gave him a look that conveyed that she felt his pain. He grinned at her, and his face hurt again. He shrugged and stifled a yawn. She caught the yawn and nodded. They both wanted to find a way out, but they were expected to stay until the last tipsy donor shook their hands with excessive excitement and staggered out the door of the mansion to their waiting limos. Only then could they convey kind words to the host and say goodbye to the client, Senator Buchanan.

Around here somewhere was Jack’s younger brother, Steve. He was even more hopelessly tied to the erratic and demanding Senator Buchanan than Jack. Jack had other clients to serve, most of whom were less annoying than the insatiable Senator Buchanan. Steve was the Senator’s chief of staff and was subject to his self-serving demands twelve, and sometimes twenty-four, hours a day. Jack regarded that kind of full-time subservience to an ego-maniacal autocrat as beyond human endurance, yet his little brother seemed to be able to pull it off and keep smiling. Remarkable.

Senator Buchanan had a way of pushing people one step beyond their comfort zones as a test of fealty to him. Steve had often told stories of utterances by Buchanan in staff meetings that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Buchanan wanted staff to come very close to bribing his big dollar supporters to get more and bigger donations. On more than one occasion he managed to obtain confidential information on donors or colleagues and suggested that he was happy to keep the secrets of those who were his friends. Friends were defined as those who threw money his way or acknowledged that he was a great man publicly and regularly. The senator was always in the market for secrets he might use to raise money or political capital, or to stifle an opponent. Steve had related that he felt like he needed a shower after attending such meetings with Buchanan but being close to power and well-paid, at least thus far, kept him in the game.

It was 12:30 a.m. when Senator Buchanan started a twenty-minute speech, informing the crowd that he would fight for them in the corridors of the senate every day and thanking them for their attendance, confidence in his team, and financial support. He concluded by reminding them that him remaining in the seat of power was imperative to their own best economic interests. Jack couldn’t imagine that they needed that reminder given that they paid ten thousand dollars a plate to be in this opulent mansion tonight.

At 1:00 a.m. Jack and Lynn stood at the front door and shook hands with the attendees as they slowly exited. The reception line at the end of the night was a painful procedure near and dear to the Senator’s heart. He viewed it as the final opportunity to let them know that they were in close touch with the power brokers that surrounded him. It was only a matter of time now. Jack was already looking forward to falling asleep before 2:00 a.m. He could get four hours of sleep before he had to get up and get into the office for the next upcoming disaster. After the guests had departed, the Senator spoke to his staff and representatives for another thirty minutes, primarily aiming his comments at how the next gathering could be bigger and generate even more contributions. Senator Buchanan was never short of ideas and ambition, although he didn’t always have a grip on which of his ideas were actually feasible.

All of this annoyance would have meant nothing—it might even have been welcomed as a blessing, if Jack had known that so much of the life he knew was about to disappear into the rearview mirror and his whole world was about to come undone. He would soon find himself questioning everything he thought he was sure about and all of those who meant the most in his life.

At 2:55 a.m., Jack crawled into bed and was asleep almost immediately. It had taken him a year after his divorce to get used to spending most nights in bed alone, but now he was four years from the end of his marriage, and he was comfortable alone, or at least used to being alone. The solitude gifted him too much time to think and he missed having a partner to talk to as he climbed into bed, but he had figured out how to cope. It was all about where you put your focus. Too much work had been his way to approach the problem. It didn’t keep his feet warm, but it was a perpetual distraction.

It seemed like a matter of minutes before the 6:00 a.m. alarm was triggered, and his wake-up song, “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” by Tears for Fears began playing loudly. He climbed out of bed and made his way to the shower with his eyes resisting opening fully and the bed calling him to return. Thirty minutes later he was climbing into his car with his first cup of morning coffee in hand. It had the potential to be a long day. He would need more coffee and a bigger mug.

Jack walked into the office, shed his jacket and proceeded directly to the coffee pot. He made a mug of coffee and returned to his desk. He had been responding to email for about twenty minutes when his assistant walked into his office.

“Morning boss.”

“Morning Ann.”

“Were you and Lynn up all night babysitting the senator?” she asked with a grin.

“Not all night. I think I got about three hours of sleep. I’m only grateful that I didn’t dream about his never-ending fund raisers.

Ann laughed. “I know what you mean. I can’t get his endless campaign speeches out of my head when I go home some nights.”

“That’s what he’s going for. We’re all supposed to think of nothing else.”

“Right. The senator’s minions can spread out and take over the earth.”

Jack smiled. “Now you’ve got it. All in for the cause. No sacrifice is too big.”

Ann shook her head. “It rings true all right. Tell me again why we represent this guy?”

Jack thought for a moment and then said, “Because we too are fond of status and money.”

“Then I guess we get what we deserve.”

“Ouch. I hate to think that we deserve life with that narcissist.”

“Maybe not life. Maybe we can get time off for good behavior.”

“Yeah. Except that most everything he does negates good behavior. Now, let’s think about some other more deserving client.”

“Yeah, let’s.” Ann shook her head. “I don’t know how your brother does it. Full time with that guy would make me crazy.”

“Yeah. Him too. Steve is crazy.”

She unleashed a troublesome smile and then said, “Okay. Is that a gene that you both inherited or was it something in his upbringing?”

“Given that we have the same genes, and we had the same upbringing, there’s no good reason for me to look for an answer to that question. One more reason to talk about something else.”

“Fair enough. Let’s talk schedule. You and Lynn are going to talk about a potential new client this morning, you have an eleven o’clock meeting with the Morris campaign, and you have two conference calls this afternoon, neither of which should go more than six hours.” With that, Ann grinned widely.