The spring and summer had flown by too fast. No sooner had we survived Maddie’s senior prom and graduation, than we were shopping for what she’d need for college and now we were moving her into her dorm, Watson Hall.
Chaotic and exciting, Maddie had no trouble with the move. Brett, the protective father, still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of her living on campus, even though she was only an hour and half away.
“Brett, you know Maddie is capable and resourceful. She’ll call if there’s even a hint of a problem. Besides, Nedra will call Melina if there’s a problem and Melina will call me.”
Nedra was Maddie’s best friend and, thankfully, they’d both been accepted to the same college and were in the same dorm, though not roommates. I’d met Melina, her mother, when I married Brett, became a stepmom, and moved to Clover Hill, Virginia. Melina and I both volunteered at Pets & Paws, the local dog shelter. We’d become close friends, as had our daughters.
We were on our way home when the hands-free system alerted Brett to a call from his boss. He grunted and accepted the call.
“McMann. We need you to respond to a situation in Birchwood. ASAP.”
“Got it!”
The call disconnected. We exchanged glances and Brett opened his mouth to speak. Before he got a word out, his partner, James Fabry, called.
“Hey! You get the call? You finished up at the college?”
“Yes, and yes. He said ASAP – what’s the story?”
Fabry groaned. “All I know is that the victim is a political figure and the locals are freaking out. No one wants to even name the person. That’s odd.”
“Okay. I can be in Birchwood in about ten minutes if I drive there directly from where we are now. Sheridan is with me. If I take her back to Clover Hill first, it will take about thirty. What do you think?”
Fabry chuckled. “I think ASAP means just that. Sheridan isn’t a stranger to this stuff. Maybe she can help calm down the locals so we can figure out what the heck happened.”
Aside from being Maddie’s step-mother, and my involvement in dog rescue, I also teach psychology at a small college part-time. Years past, I practiced as a psychologist. I’m also an amateur sleuth.
“I’ll see what I can do and stay out of your way.” I shrugged, though only Brett could see me.
“I’m almost there. Did you get the full address? I only got Birchwood Country Club and Pavilion on his text.”
“You got more than I did, Fabry. Hold on, Sheridan’s checking on Waze.”
Almost immediately, my screen shifted. “Not very original. Birchwood Pavilion Road. Says we will arrive in seven minutes.”
“Six minutes, here. I’ll meet you both there.”
Fabry disconnected and I continued to search for events at the Pavilion. We passed the “Welcome to Birchwood” sign and continued to follow the app’s directions. My impression was that it was a small town, and from the size of the homes and grandeur of the landscaping, a well-off community. Like Clover Hill, there might be a less affluent section as well, but the area we passed was impressive.
“There. A sign for the country club.” As I said it, the app directed us to take the next right, and sure enough that was Birchwood Pavilion Road. Up ahead, I spotted flashing lights.
As we got closer, Brett pulled over, parked, and popped the trunk to get his State Police vest and gun. The pavilion and club house made an impressive picture. White with black trim, it was two stories and shaped like a horseshoe. The green grass and the circular drive, with a golf course in the distance, painted a beautiful picture. Peaceful and classic, aside from the emergency vehicles.
“Yeah. I parked and we’re heading toward the flashing lights.” He shook his head. Not on speaker, I only heard his side of the conversation.
“I’ll meet you there.”
He turned to me. “Fabry will meet us at the main door. We’ll make nice with the locals and find out why they needed us here so fast.”
We walked toward the main door. As we waited for Fabry, I took in the setting. People dressed for a fancy event of some kind milled around in small groups. A cotillion came to mind, though it was late afternoon. I noticed a few of the men wore large rings that didn’t quite go with their formal attire.
I tapped Brett’s arm and tilted my head when I spotted Fabry. We met up with him and made our way through the crowd. Moving, I couldn’t catch any whole conversations. Still, I heard mention of someone named Marcus more than once.
We headed toward what I guessed was a small ballroom with one glass wall. Before we reached the door, a policeman stopped us. He fidgeted and his chin trembled.
“Sorry. You can’t go any further, sirs, ma’am.”
Brett flashed his ID as did Fabry. “Detective McMann, State Police. Someone requested our presence here. What’s the status?”
“I… I… don’t know. Let me …” He turned, face white, and talked into his mic. “State Police here at my spot.” He nodded. “Okay.” He turned to us and hesitated, his chin trembling.
“What did you find out?”
“Chief Brayson is on his way, along with Mayor Greenlief.”
Fabry coughed. “Why are all these people here?”
“Robin Greenlief and Doug Shandler. Their engagement party.”
I gasped. Two men approached us, one in a formal police uniform and one in a tuxedo. The chief and the father of the bride-to-be. Both with furrowed brows and pinched lips. As they approached, I took a step back, not too sure how they’d react to an outsider.
Brett and Fabry stood even straighter as the men exchanged names. Chief Brayson nodded his head in my direction. “And she is?”
“Sheridan Hendley. She’s a psychologist who frequently works with the police. She’s also my wife.”
Brayson didn’t quite roll his eyes, but his expression came close. Fabry interrupted.
“We’re here at your request. We understand there was an event here and there’s a victim. What happened and why the State Police?”
Mr. Greenlief, the mayor, exhaled. “My daughter’s engagement party. Lots of high-profile community members and family. Twenty-five years ago, my best friend in college…” He choked and recovered quickly. “He… he and his wife became Robin’s godparents. Today, someone killed him.”
Brayson squeezed Greenlief’s arm. “Someone killed Marcus – Senator Thornton. His wife, Molly, is in shock, as is Mary Greenlief and everyone else. Given my involvement with the Thorntons, and the Greenliefs, I recused myself immediately and requested the State Police take over the investigation.”
Brett glanced toward me and back to the Brayson. “Where are the women you just mentioned? Molly and Mary. The ones in shock? Sheridan may be able to help while we get up to speed on Thornton’s death.”
“Follow us. We’ve been with them since it happened.”
We followed the chief and the mayor. I caught the curious expressions on many faces as we entered the pavilion itself. We weren’t exactly dressed for a formal or even semi-formal affair, not even business casual. Police and what appeared to be security obstructed our view of the body at one end of the bar area. Two small groups huddled at the other end.
Excerpt from Promises and Politics, Another Murder. Copyright © 2025. All rights reserved.
Melissa Westemeier grew up around the edge of nerd culture, but marriage and motherhood with three sons immersed her in it. She’s fluent in Marvel, DC, Dr. Who, Star Wars, Godzilla, and more thanks to their influence. 
