“We can ask.”
Monahan appeared in the doorway with a fiftysomething, tired-looking woman wearing a white coat over a tailored pantsuit. “Hello. I’m Dr. Briggs. I understand you were visiting George Lewis. What can I help you with?” She sounded cordial.
Colin extended his hand. “I’m Colin Kelly, and this is Carol Anne Jansen. She was Congressman Otto Lewis’s chief of staff.”
Dr. Briggs shook his hand and turned to CJ.
“I’m CJ. Yes, I was Congressman Lewis’s chief of staff. You probably heard about his passing this week?”
“Yes. My condolences. I understand he had a fine reputation. Unusual for DC these days.” Dr. Briggs was trying to cut through the tension in the room.
If she only knew. CJ’s mind was whirling. It was as if Colin could read her mind when he jumped in with, “Indeed. Is there a place we can sit and chat in private?” He noticed that other people had entered the lounge to grab coffee or a candy bar.
“Yes. In my office. Follow me.” Dr. Briggs turned and headed toward the other end of the hall, past the entry foyer.
“Are you both from Washington?” Dr. Briggs continued trying to cut the tension with small talk.
“Just outside the city,” Colin offered. Nothing more.
As they entered the doctor’s austere office, she gestured toward the two chairs in front of her desk as she took hers. “Please sit down. Now, what can I do for you?” She smiled at CJ, knowing that she was the loose cannon in the room.
“You can tell us why George seemed to respond to me when Mr. Monahan indicated that he was in a vegetative state.” CJ crossed her arms in front of her chest as if to say, “Impress me.”
“Are you his legal guardian?” Dr. Briggs pulled out the patient-confidentiality card up front.
“Well, no. But I was his brother’s chief of staff and I am the executor of his estate.”
“Then I’m sorry, but I cannot discuss George’s condition with you.” Dr. Briggs emphasized the name of the patient.
“We flew across the country to assure ourselves that George’s care was sufficient so that financing it at this facility would continue.” Colin was offering a new window on their relationship to George’s care—money.
Dr. Briggs sat up in her chair, realizing what Colin was implying.
“Isn’t there a will?” With that question, Briggs’s confidence seemed to return.
CJ and Colin shot each other a horrified stare. Neither had gotten that far. CJ had been obsessed with the suicide declaration, and Colin was engrossed in following the money trail. It would have come up eventually—there obviously had to be a will since there was a legal document naming CJ executor, but they had both been distracted by all the confusion, and in their haste to find Sun Valley Institute, they had ignored a crucial piece of the puzzle as far as financing George’s medical care was concerned—the will!
Colin took the lead again, switching to CEO mode. “Of course there’s a will, and to reiterate, Ms. Jansen is the executor of said will. And we wanted to be sure there was no lapse in transferring funds or other support for George.” CJ was impressed with Colin’s demeanor. “Hence our immediate trip out here. We needed to inform the next of kin, who would be George.”
The challenge wasn’t lost on the doctor. She didn’t want them transferring George to another facility, but she could not legally discuss his condition.
“How was he when you went to his room?” Dr. Briggs was being coy. Monahan had obviously filled her in before she went into the lounge.
“Didn’t Mr. Monahan tell you? I got a response from George.” CJ was abrupt.
“Sometimes patients involuntarily respond to external stimuli. It doesn’t mean they are actually processing the information in a cognitive way,” Dr. Briggs continued in her sterile fashion.
“But I felt that he heard me.” CJ was relying on what her inner voice was telling her.
“Yes, that too isn’t unusual. Visitors think they have reached the patient in an extraordinary way. That, too, can be attributed to a different set of external stimuli.”
“Oh, cut the medical monologue, will you.” CJ was on the verge of losing the last bit of cool she could muster, but she took Colin’s cue. “How would he respond to a different environment? I mean, if we were to move him to say, someplace closer to us?”
Back to the concern of losing the revenue, Dr. Briggs softened a bit. “It could be detrimental to his health. Moving him so great a distance. That’s a very long ambulance ride.”
“Certainly there are air-travel options for people like George.” CJ was sure of it, though she did not really want to consider moving George, by air or any other way, as an option. She was simply trying to get information out of the annoying woman in the white coat.
“Well, yes, of course. But it is still a very long journey, and as you saw for yourself, he needs constant oxygen and is hooked up to a number of monitors.” Dr. Briggs was beginning to sound anxious.
“Okay. So let’s do this. You can keep George’s physical health confidential, but we want to look at the invoices and all the payments.” Colin sounded very much like the boardroom chairman he was.
“I . . . I don’t know if that too is a violation.” The doctor was beginning to stutter.
“Cut the crap, Doc. We know Snapper, I mean Congressman Lewis, had been transferring twenty-five thousand dollars a month, not counting any extras.” CJ was done playing nice. “As executor of his estate, I can legally demand copies of nonmedical information. If you want that money train to keep on running, we have to compare notes.”
Realizing she had little choice, Dr. Briggs stood up and smoothed her stiff white jacket. “Come with me. I’ll take you to our accounting office.”
CJ and Colin shot each other thumbs-up glances.
The doctor led them to another small but utilitarian office a few doors down, in which a young, red-haired woman with fingernails like claws sat in front of a computer. “Fiona, please pull up all the records you have for George Lewis for the past two”—she looked at CJ and Colin quizzically, and Colin showed her three fingers—“make that three years. All financial transactions for his account, please.”
Fiona started to click away. “Do you want a printout, or shall I put it on a flash drive?”
“Both, if that won’t be too much trouble.” Colin was delighted he had the option. It would make it much easier to scrutinize the transactions when they got back to DC.
“Nah. Do it all the time.” Fiona turned her back to the computer and continued to tap dance on the keyboard. In a few minutes, the printer began to cough out pages of information. CJ could hardly contain herself. Finally! Something. Anything, at this point, was a step in the right direction, whatever direction that actually turned out to be. They’d figure it out. Eventually.
Shortly, all thirty-six pages were assembled with a binder clip and handed over to Colin with a wink. He always got a kick out of it when women tried to flirt with him. His amusement wasn’t lost on CJ either. She gave him a subtle nudge with her elbow.
At first glance, everything looked on the up-and-up, so with that they both expressed their appreciation. Colin said, “As soon as we get the rest of Congressman Lewis’s affairs in order we will be in touch. Meanwhile, you will continue to get the monthly payments.”
The color came back to Dr. Briggs’s face, and she extended her hand. “Thank you for your confidence in our care.” She turned to CJ, who she knew was the harder to please of the two. “If you have any questions about anything. . .”
“Except his health,” CJ interrupted.
“Yes, of course. Please feel free to call me. Here is my card, with my cell-phone number.”
She handed a card to each of them.
“We will also send you information as to George’s legal guardian when we return to Washington.” With that, Colin ended the conversation, and he and CJ left the building.
“Oh. My. God. That was such an ordeal. I don’
t know what I need more, a nap or a drink!” CJ got into the car and buckled her seat belt.
“Let’s start with a drink. It’s easier than trying to drink while you’re napping.”
CJ let out the first grunt of laughter and relief. “Onward! I hear a Tito’s martini calling my name.”
Chapter 11
There was a lot of information to process. Snapper’s death, for one. CJ was not settling for suicide and planned on pursuing the truth behind that once she recovered from jet lag and the harrowing trip to Sun Valley Institute. Poor George. He’s lived like that for years. What goes on in his mind? Now his situation, for sure, was mind-boggling.
She was going to let Colin handle the matter of providing financing for George’s care. She had a different matter to handle.
On the Monday after they got back, CJ went to her office to finish her work and start clearing out her desk. She had sixty days, there was a boatload of correspondence to complete, and all the other members of Snapper’s staff had departed to seek other jobs in Congress. The governor would request a special election to fill out the remaining twenty months of Snapper’s term. It all seemed surreal, everything seeming to happen all at once while she was standing still, unable to match the speed at which things around her were happening.
She had to focus on what was left of her job, but she was also distracted by the alleged suicide. CJ was determined to get to the bottom of it, but there were too many other tasks that needed to be done at the moment and too few hands to do them.
She phoned Detective Harris to let him know that she was still doubtful that Snapper had committed suicide and that she would like to view the security footage one more time.
“Of course, CJ. I totally understand; I am more than happy to accommodate you. However, the sooner you can get here, the better. I’m working on a lot of cases, and I don’t know how much time I’ll be able to give you.”
“Oh.” CJ thought she would have open access since it was a member of the House of Representatives who had died. “I apologize. I didn’t realize that his death was being treated like any other case. He was a congressman, after all.” She was trying not to whine, but she was mentally and physically exhausted. She couldn’t even think about jogging at this point.
“True. But the coroner has ruled it a suicide, so we are closing the case.” Harris was trying to be helpful, but he knew that CJ was not inclined to drop the matter.
“But . . . how . . . I mean . . . it’s just too strange.” CJ’s discontent left her sputtering.
“I know how difficult this must be for you. . . .”
“Do you? Do you really know? Do you know how many people whom I’ve loved have died on me?” She was on the verge of hysteria.
“I’m sorry. No, actually, I don’t.”
“Well, let’s just say too many! Just tell me when to be there,” she said, her voice shrill.
“How about tomorrow afternoon? Say four thirty? We should be winding down by then, and you can have the room for a couple of hours. How does that sound?” Harris was trying his best to be kind and accommodating.
“Fine. I’ll see you at four thirty.” She slammed the phone down, buried her face in her hands, and began to sob. When the phone on her desk rang, she was immediately forced to regain her composure.
“Hey.” It was Colin. “I have some good news. I found Snapper’s will on the flash drive. He left everything to George, so that should cover some of his expenses. The two condos should bring in a reasonable amount of money.”
“Yeah. If we don’t find any other surprises. And I have some news, too. The coroner has ruled that Snapper committed suicide, so the police have closed the investigation of his death.”
Ignoring for the moment what CJ has said, Colin continued, “I also found the deed for both, and they look pretty clean; there are no mortgages on either one. At least, none I could find. Probably can get at least one point two million on each one.” Colin sounded relieved that at least one issue, continued care of George, could be easily resolved.
“Well, that, at least, is some good news.” CJ started to relax. “When can Dr. Winslow go there and evaluate him?”
Earlier that morning, before CJ went to work, Colin and CJ had sought out the best neurologist in the city, who had agreed to fly to California and run a series of tests on George.
“Probably won’t be for another three to four weeks. And we have to get ‘Dr. Stiff’ to let him in.” Colin was referring to Dr. Briggs, George’s physician at the facility.
CJ let out a guffaw for the first time in almost two weeks. “Find out anything else, Mr. Hardy?”
“As a matter of fact I did. He left his pocket watch to you. Odd thing, no?”
CJ smiled. “He always said my timing was as accurate as his watch. It was one of his prized possessions. It had been his grandfather’s. Wow. That was kind of sweet.” She heaved a big sigh. “Huh. So anything else to report?”
“Easy, girl. There’s a lot to sift through. I still cannot figure out the origin of the money that has been going into the trust. That will take some extra sleuthing, Miss Drew.” Colin was beginning to enjoy their Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys references.
“Yeah. Me too. I’m going down to the police station tomorrow afternoon to look at the security footage again.” CJ’s mood darkened.
“Listen. Are you sure you want to go down this road? I mean, the coroner said it was a suicide and the police have closed the investigation. They have plenty of evidence that supports the coroner’s ruling.” Colin was trying to get CJ to stop thinking that Snapper had been murdered.
“I don’t care what the coroner said. I know that Snapper would not have killed himself. Period.” CJ was unwavering.
“Okay. Do you want to meet me afterward, and we can compare notes?”
“Of course. I just don’t know how long I’ll be there.”
Colin knew that since the case had been closed, Detective Harris was merely humoring CJ by letting her view the tape a second time. “Let’s say seven thirty. If you’re running late just text me; otherwise, I’ll see you at the house. Okay?”
“Yes. Colin, I want you to know how much I appreciate your helping me with all of this. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve been my rock.”
“And you, mine.” Colin was happy to do whatever he could to rally around CJ. He had made a promise to Kick. And besides, he was very fond of her. They had leaned on each other for comfort over the past four years.
“Okay. Gotta get back to answering all the constituents’ e-mails and letters. I only have sixty more days before I am out of a job.”
“Really?” Colin sounded surprised. “If only they were that efficient with everything else.”
“Yeah. Right. Okay. Gotta go. See you tomorrow.” CJ hung up, feeling a little better knowing that Snapper had made provisions for George in his will. And the watch. It was very special. Then she realized it had not been among his personal effects. A troubled look came over her face. What would he have done with it?
She flew out of her chair and began rifling through Snapper’s desk. In the left-side drawer was a brown envelope with her name on it. Her hands started to shake as she gingerly opened it. Inside was a note repeating the words she had said only a few minutes before:
CJ—You’re the only person whose timing is as good as this watch.—Snapper
She almost dropped the package. The likelihood that he had committed suicide was becoming stronger since it seemed that he knew he would die. Still, she could not let go of the nagging feeling that all was not as it seemed. Maybe a jog would clear her head. She looked at the timepiece, which read 3:30. Yes. She would go for a run.
An hour later, CJ went through her ritual. Computer in sleep mode. Check. Desk lamp off. Check. Desk drawers locked. Check. Driver’s license, ID, some cash.
Slipping into her sweats, she headed down the stairs to the lobby. Immediately, she was hit by the putrid smell of god-awful cologne! Mr. Crappy Cologne!
He was in the building.
CJ headed toward the corridor where she had spotted him before. As she rounded the corner, she ran smack-dab into him, practically knocking both of them over. This time she got a good look at his face. Butt ugly was her first thought, followed by creepy. She was rattled as she blurted, “Excuse me!”
“No problem,” came his husky and recognizable voice. Mr. Crappy Cologne straightened up and gave her a menacing look as if he knew who she was.
CJ quickly turned on her heels and headed out the door. What was he doing here? Had he seen Congressman Dillard again? There is something going on. I can feel it.
She headed toward the lobby and hurried over to Marcus. “Marcus, remember when I asked you about a guy who smelled like a French whorehouse?”
Marcus let out a big laugh. “Sure do! Not too many people come up with that question. Why?”
“Because he was in the building again.” CJ was trying not to sound neurotic.
“Sorry, CJ, but I didn’t see, or should I say ‘smell’ anyone who fits that description.”
“Huh. Okay. Well, if you do, text me, okay?”
“Sure thing.” Marcus noticed she was wearing her jogging clothes. “Have a good run!”
CJ left the lobby thinking that maybe Mr. Crappy Cologne had some other way of entering the building. That would take a lot of clearance, but then again, congressmen had lots of strings they could pull.
Her head was swimming with questions. Who was that guy? What was he up to? What was Snapper up to? Why was he also going to Dillard’s office? And why does he have to wear such awful cologne? That last thought actually amused her.
She ran on her usual route. First, a strong sprint until she got winded, then she slowed down—even though her mind was racing the entire time. As soon as she got back to the house, she was going to look at that list she and Colin had started the first time they were together after Snapper’s death.
When she got back to the parking garage, she gave her dilapidated car a stern look, and warned, “Don’t even think of screwing around with me today. I am not in the mood.”
Deep Harbor Page 11
