Murder on The Gold Line

I was murdered on the Gold Line. By the time the train reached Lake Station, I was dead. No one noticed as it appeared that I was sleeping. A little awkwardly. My head was sunk in my chest, my eyes rolled back in their sockets, only the whites visible, hidden behind my mirrored sunglasses.
But who would want to kill the Director of a polling institute? Someone who thinks the Director has found out too much and could jeopardize his access to the highest office in the county. In his debut nov...