Deep Harbor

by Fern Michaels

  She got into the jalopy and shoved the key into the ignition; and much to her surprise, it started right away. Hmmm . . . maybe talking to inanimate objects really does work. Strapping herself in, she headed to the house.

  After opening the security gate, pulling into the driveway, and entering the garage, CJ went through the required rigmarole to get into the house. Once inside, she began to feel a little calmer. The endorphins from her run had certainly helped.

  She threw the keys on the pink marble console table that Kick had imported from Italy and headed toward the wine cooler. Tonight called for the 2007 Alta Vista Malbec from Argentina. This time, she had remembered to stop at the Charcuterie to pick up some smoky cured beef and a good stinky Italian Robiola cheese. Plus one of their crusty baguettes. She uncorked the wine and let it breathe for a few minutes as she fixed her plate. CJ couldn’t remember the last time she had had an appetite. Seeing Mr. Crappy Cologne in the building had renewed her spirit. She was going to get to the bottom of what that son of a bitch was up to and, hopefully, figure out what had really happened to Snapper.

  Before she settled on the floor in front of the coffee table she sent Colin a text: Ran into Mr. Crappy Cologne today. Literally. Got a glimpse of his face.

  Ug-lee. CU tomorrow. XOCJ

  Chapter 12

  When CJ rolled out of bed after a long night of reading the notes she and Colin had put together, she was a little weary. She probably should have stopped after the third glass of wine, but boy was it good. Especially with the cheese. She cursed herself for drinking too much but relented almost immediately. It was time to get going. She was going to finish up a lot of correspondence, then head to the police station, where she would review the security tapes once again. Afterward, she and Colin were planning to confer at the house.

  Arriving at the Rayburn Building, she stifled a yawn as she entered the lobby and saw Marcus at the security checkpoint. “Any signs of Pepé Le Pew?” she joked.

  “No, ma’am. But if I sniff him out, I’ll let you know immediately!” Marcus was enjoying the banter. He knew she wasn’t going to be working there much longer. That is, unless whoever got elected chose to keep her on. It wouldn’t be a bad idea. New congressmen barely had a chance to figure out what they were doing before they had to run for reelection. Stupid system.

  Snapper had not wanted any type of viewing or funeral. He had indicated that he be cremated. She would plan a memorial service for him, but it would take place only after she had finished carrying out her official duties. So, at least that was one thing she would not have to deal with immediately.

  CJ headed to the office and groaned at the pile of papers still sitting on her desk. “I guess you aren’t going to answer yourselves, are you?” Thinking about how her car had responded to her comments, she grinned. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if letters could answer themselves? she thought. Except then, no one would ever write letters, would they? Oh well, time to get to work.

  The day went by rather quickly, and when she looked at the clock, she was surprised to find that it was already four o’clock. She had to hustle to make her appointment at four thirty. And the traffic was going to be horrendous.

  She hustled down to the garage and glared at her car, reminding herself that she really, really needed to get a new one. Maybe tomorrow.

  As she backed out of her parking space, she thanked God her car had started without a hitch. She took the quickest route, and, as she approached an amber light, she pumped the brakes lightly. Nothing. She pumped again, harder this time. Still nothing. She pumped harder and harder. She reached for the emergency brake and tried to pull it. Nothing. The car would not stop. She braced herself for the inevitable collision with the Mazda directly in front of her that had stopped for the light, which was now red. When the crash came, CJ hit her head on the steering wheel just before the air bags deployed. She could feel blood trickling down her face.

  The driver of the unfortunate Mazda exited his car, looked at the damage to the rear end, and started to scream at CJ. “What the hell is wrong with you? Texting? You asshole!” He was livid.

  CJ could only moan. She pushed the air bags out of her way and pulled herself from the car. “I . . . I . . . don’t know what . . .” were the only words she could utter before she collapsed to the road.

  Several minutes later, an ambulance appeared and an EMT gave her oxygen, treated her head wound, and checked her vitals. “Miss? How are you feeling?” The kind voice of the EMT sounded fuzzy.

  “I’m . . . I’m okay. What happened?” CJ was still dizzy.

  “You slammed into the car in front of you,” said a police officer, who was standing in front of her with a notepad.

  “I tried to stop, but the brakes . . . they were soft . . . they didn’t work. I kept pumping, but nothing. And the emergency brake didn’t work, either.” She was starting to come around. “I was trying to stop the car. It wouldn’t stop.” Her voice was still weak.

  “Okay, Ms. Jansen. You do realize I am going to have to issue you a citation for reckless driving.”

  “But I wasn’t being reckless. Honest. The brakes . . . they failed. It’s an old car.” CJ’s voice was soft; she was still confused.

  “Well, it’s going to have to be towed. You really creamed the front end.” The police officer tore the ticket from his book. “We called a truck. Should be here shortly. We have enough traffic problems without people clogging up the intersections.” He handed over the ticket. “You can dispute this in court if you want.”

  CJ’s hands were trembling. Court. Police station. She remembered she had an appointment with Detective Harris. “Officer”—she peered at his name tag—“Walters, could you contact Detective Harris at the substation? I had an appointment with him at four thirty. Please?” she begged.

  The cop pulled his walkie-talkie out of his shoulder holster. Crackling sounds could be heard, then voices as he muttered into the mouthpiece. “Roger that.” He turned back to her. “If you’re okay, I’ll give you a lift.” Suddenly, he was being very accommodating.

  “Sure. Thanks. Yes, I’m okay. Just a little shaken.” CJ continued to press the ice pack to her head. “Can you let me know where they’re taking my car?”

  “If I were you, I’d have them take it to the junkyard.” The officer was trying to make light of the situation.

  “Huh. Maybe later. First, I want my mechanic to take a look at the brakes, so when I do go to court, I’ll have some evidence supporting my account of what happened.”

  “If you say so. Got a particular shop you want the tow to take it to?”

  “My mechanic’s place is near where I live.” She wrote down the name and address with her trembling hand. The police officer made a whistling sound, and said, “That’s some fancy neighborhood. You got a different car you drive when you’re there?”

  “I will now.”

  CJ fumbled for her phone and sent a text to Colin: In car accident. On my way to police station. See you later. Need new car.

  He quickly responded: U sure Ur okay? Want me to come down there?

  CJ pinged back: Probably a good idea. TY.

  CJ continued to hold the ice pack on her forehead as the patrol car zigzagged through the traffic. “I noticed you have a government security pass in your handbag. Sorry. We had to look for ID.”

  “Yes, I’m . . . I was Congressman Lewis’s chief of staff.” CJ tried to sound coherent.

  “You mean the one who smoked himself in the garage?” The officer had no couth.

  “Yes. That one.” CJ didn’t bother to continue this conversation. She wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter, especially about Snapper and his death.

  “You feeling okay?” The officer looked at her through the rearview mirror.

  “I’m fine. Still a little shaken up. That’s all.” Bullshit, she told herself. Things couldn’t get much worse.

  As they arrived at the police station, the officer helped her out of the car and up the stairs. Chivalry
is not dead. Maybe just unconscious, she thought to herself.

  “Ms. Jansen here to see Detective Harris.” The officer was putting on his best official demeanor.

  “I’m okay. You can leave me here,” CJ said, offering to allow Walters to return to his duties.

  “No. Not until I get you settled.”

  Wow. When under the scrutiny of superior officers, this guy can pull out all the stops. CJ was losing her patience but remained steady on her feet.

  The desk officer called Detective Harris, who appeared shortly.

  “CJ. Are you okay? I heard you were in a bit of a fender-bender.” Harris held his hand out and took her arm. She looked frazzled.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Please, I need everyone to stop fussing. I appreciate it, but I am sure Officer Walters has to get back to work.” And outta my hair, she thought to herself. “Thank you, Officer, for the lift and for your assistance.”

  “It’s my pleasure to serve,” Walters replied smoothly.

  Yeah, and Bob’s your uncle. Another sarcastic thought flew through her mind.

  Detective Harris led CJ to the media room. “Are you sure you want to do this today? We can reschedule for tomorrow.”

  “No. It’s okay. I know you’re busy, and I have a lot to deal with, including getting a new car. But thanks.” CJ was firm. She knew the clock was ticking if she wanted to make a case for murder.

  As they entered the room, CJ noticed how much colder it was than in the outer offices, and a chill went down her spine.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Harris pressed.

  “I’m fine. Really. I just didn’t remember the room’s being this cold the last time.”

  “It’s because of all the equipment. But you also had a shock. Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”

  CJ took a seat and marveled at all the monitors, computers, and keyboards.

  I’m sure I’ll find something, she told herself. Just look at all of this.

  Harris returned with two bottles of cold water and handed one to CJ. “Sorry. We don’t have any glasses. We used to, but people kept leaving them all over. You know how guys are.”

  CJ grunted a slight laugh. “I suppose.” She actually didn’t. It dawned on her that she had no clue when it came to the opposite sex. They truly were from Mars.

  Harris set up the video and began to run the footage. Just like the first time, the congressman was walking from the stairwell to his car. Then a full three minutes later, a man dressed in a Burberry trench coat appeared with his head bent down, keeping out of direct sight of the camera. And again, like the first time, she was jolted by the head tilt!

  “That’s him!” CJ was certain. This time she was sure that it was Mr. Crappy Cologne because she had bumped into him just the day before.

  “That’s who?” Harris was clearly confused.

  “The guy who was in Snapper’s office fighting with him a couple of weeks ago. He smells like a French whorehouse. He and Snapper got into some kind of argument, and he assaulted the congressman. Then I saw him in Congressman Dillard’s office the same week, reeking of that abominable-smelling cologne. That’s how I was able to recognize him as I had not seen his face the time that he kicked Congressman Lewis in the groin.” CJ was talking so fast, Detective Harris put his hands up.

  “Slow down, CJ. You said he was in Snapper’s office? And then you saw him in Congressman Dillard’s office?” Harris was trying to follow CJ’s runaway train of thought.

  “Yes. I had to go back to my office and overheard them. I didn’t see his face until a couple days later. Well, no, actually I didn’t see his face that time. I smelled his cologne. You cannot miss it. It is unforgettable.”

  “You smelled his cologne.” Harris repeated her words.

  “Yes. I smelled him. He takes a bath in this disgusting cologne.”

  “So did you actually see his face?” Harris pressed her.

  “Not until yesterday. I was leaving the building to go for a run, I got a whiff of him again, and I followed the cloud down the hallway. When I turned the corner, I ran smack into him. That’s when I saw his face for the first and only time.” She was starting to slow down so she wouldn’t sound like a nutcase.

  “So you actually saw this man’s face? In the lobby?”

  “No, in a hallway.” CJ was trying not to get cranked up again. “I smelled him twice, then a third time, and that time I actually saw his face. Get it?”

  “Got it.” Harris was actually writing it all down. “Do you remember overhearing anything? Like when he was in Congressman Lewis’s office?”

  “Yes, something about Robotron. But I really didn’t hear more than that, which was when he kicked Snapper. But then I overheard another loud conversation with him and Dillard a few days later.”

  “But you hadn’t seen his face yet. Is that correct?” It almost sounded like Harris was interrogating her.

  “Correct. No face. Just smell and loud voices.” CJ folded her arms across her chest.

  “Did you hear anything they said in Dillard’s office?” Harris pressed on.

  “ ‘I said I’ll take care of it!’” CJ parroted what she remembered.

  “Take care of what?” Harris was getting confused.

  “That’s what someone said—‘I said I’ll take care of it,’ ” CJ clarified, and continued, “But I’m not sure which of them said it, Mr. Crappy Cologne or Congressman Dillard.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Mr. Crappy Cologne stomped out of the office. I leaned against the wall, so he wouldn’t see me. I noticed he dodged the security camera by keeping his head tilted the same way the man in the Burberry trench coat does in the security tape.”

  “All this is very interesting, CJ. Have you told anyone else?”

  “Only Colin. My brother’s partner.”

  “Okay. Let’s run the footage one more time.” Harris was either starting to believe her or simply humoring her.

  The image was still grainy. She couldn’t get a good look at the man’s face. She knew it would be almost impossible to prove that Mr. Crappy Cologne was involved. Tears ran down her face. What a hell of a day. Week. Month. She needed to go home and take a long hot bath. And have a few glasses of wine. Colin would be arriving shortly, and he could drive her home.

  “CJ, I want you to know that I’m not taking this lightly. But as you know, we don’t have a lot to go on. I’ll ask forensics to take another look at his car to see if there was anything suspicious. It’s still in the lot as far as I know.”

  “It should be because I didn’t sign any release papers for it.” CJ knew that much at least.

  A few minutes later, there was a slight knock on the door, and Harris let Colin in.

  He took one look at her and thought she had been hit by a bus. “CJ! Good heavens! What the hell happened? You look terrible!”

  “Oh thanks. I feel like I look. Something went wrong with my brakes, and I slammed into the car in front of me. Thank God we were at a traffic light instead of on the Beltway.”

  “You okay?” Colin peered closely.

  “Yes. Just a hot mess.”

  “I guess this means you’re going to finally get a new car?” Colin was trying to lighten the mood.

  CJ gave him her sideways “no shit, Sherlock” glance. “Yes. New car.” She was beginning to feel better, the shock of the crash and her discovery beginning to wane.

  “Okay, sister. Let’s get you home. Okay with you, Detective?” Every once in a while Colin would refer to CJ as “sister,” especially if he was being playful.

  “Fine with me. CJ, do you think you could come back in a few days and give me a statement about what you saw and heard?”

  “Really?” CJ was pleasantly surprised. Harris was finally starting to believe her? “Of course. Just let me know when.” She gave Colin the thumbs-up when Harris wasn’t looking. Colin responded with an eye roll.

  “Will do. Meanwhile, go get some rest.” Harris walked them to the wait
ing area and said good night.

  On the way to the house, CJ was starting to rally. “Wow. I think he actually believed me. Although I’m not sure why.” She frowned.

  “That’s a good thing, no?” Colin glanced at her from the driver’s seat. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Yes, but something still doesn’t feel right.”

  “Uh boy. Here we go . . .”

  “Seriously, Colin. I think he has a different agenda.”

  “Like what?”

  “I dunno, but my gut is telling me that there’s something else going on.”

  “Nancy Drew, you’re going to have to keep your imagination at bay. Just go back, give him your statement, then see where it leads. You’re not the detective, may I remind you. You only play one in your pretend life.”

  “Very funny. Well, we’ll see about that.” And after she said that, she rested her head against the window and dozed off.

  Chapter 13

  Once they arrived at the house, CJ took a hot bath while Colin prepared a light dinner for them. Another egg pie, but this time he had picked a fresh one up at the closest Hatchery. They polished off a bottle of Whispering Angel Rosé and decided that reviewing all the information was not in the cards that evening. CJ had been tossed around physically and mentally, and they called it a night.

  The next morning, Wednesday, CJ was feeling a little unsteady but good enough to go to the office and slog through the balance of the correspondence. She was always amazed at the amount of written letters that still came through the mailroom. Remarkable, actually, in this day and age of digital communications.

  During the lunch hour, she took an Uber to the car-rental agency so she could have some wheels until she found a new car. She still wasn’t about to drive any of those Italian jewels in the garage. Maybe one day, but not today.

  Thankfully, it was a quiet day, and she placed a few phone calls about her wrecked car and made some appointments to test-drive a couple of SUVs. She wanted to be visible to everyone else who was driving what she referred to as an “urban assault vehicle.” She lined up a Jeep, a Ford Escape, and a Hyundai. She wasn’t about to go overboard with something pricey. A good utility vehicle was all she needed.