Deep Harbor

by Fern Michaels

  Drew gave her a confused look, and she explained, “The guy wears the worst cologne. And lots of it. You can smell him a mile away.”

  The artist smiled politely and handed her the sketch pad. “Look familiar?”

  CJ was surprised at how well Drew had rendered the composite drawing.

  Drew opened the door and peered out into the hall, looking for Matt. He spotted him down the hall, leaning against a wall and talking to Colin. “Agent Mullan?”

  Matt and Colin immediately walked over. “Looks like we have something. Ms. Jansen says that she is sure this is what he looks like, but hoped it could be a ‘scratch and sniff.’ Drew was finally showing that he had a sense of humor, which broke the ice among all of them.

  “Thanks, Drew.” Matt took the drawing from him. “Okay. I’ll run this down and see what we come up with. It may take a while.”

  “What’s ‘a while’?” CJ asked.

  “Could be twenty-four hours. Could be less. But we’ll let you know as soon as we have something. Obviously, we won’t be able to give you any details as to who he is, but—”

  “But what?” CJ interrupted, showing her frustration and confusion. “This guy tried to kill me and probably killed Snapper, too!”

  Colin put his arm around her. “Matt has this covered. Let’s get a bite to eat.” He turned her in the direction of the elevator.

  “But . . . but . . .” CJ tried to protest, but Colin gave her a brotherly shove.

  “It’s been a long day. We are outta here. There is nothing left for you to do today except have some food and a nice glass of wine. Besides, you have another big day tomorrow. . . at the spa.”

  Remembering her new motto, CJ took a deep breath and said, “Indeed.” Turning back to Matt, and in a more conciliatory voice, she offered her gratitude. “Thanks very much for believing me. When all of this is over, please have dinner with us. Colin knows how to use a microwave like a pro!”

  “I’d like that. And thanks for being so brave.” Matt shook her hand and briefly made eye contact with Colin before he headed in the opposite direction.

  Chapter 15

  After the meeting with the sketch artist, Colin and CJ decided to head for CJ’s. It had been a very trying day. They ordered Thai and picked it up on the way to the house. CJ hit the sheets early, and Colin continued to go through the folders on the jump drive, trying to make sense of Snapper’s financial dealings. At some point, he decided, he would have to go back to Snapper’s secret condo and spend time digging through the transactions on the dark Web. If he could figure out how to do so.

  Friday morning, smelling the deep aromatic coffee Colin had put through the French press, CJ bounded into the kitchen. “Hmmmm . . . I think the smell of coffee is intoxicating.” She had a dreamy look on her face.

  “My, aren’t we in another kind of mood today.” Colin poured her a cup and handed it over with the carafe of cream.

  “Yes. I. Am. I told you, I’m trying to be more Zen.” Colin gave her a sideways look. “What, you don’t believe me?”

  “Whatever’s come over you, I think I like it. Zen or not.”

  “What was wrong with me before?” Her tone of voice sounded a little defensive.

  “Nothing, sweetie. I’m just finding this new attitude refreshing. You’ve been through a helluva lot. It’s good to see you upbeat, smiling, and excited. Even if it’s only about a haircut.”

  “It’s a makeover, Mr. Kelly, sir. I am making myself over inside and out!” CJ sounded almost like a child who had just won a trip to Disney World when she said it.

  “So what time is your big appointment?”

  “Oh, Ms. Fake Accent gave me a three o’clock. Why is everyone in this town so phony?” She hopped on the stool, propped her elbows on the counter, and rested her chin in both hands.

  “It’s a requirement. Hell, you should know. You’ve been in the thick of it for years.”

  “Yeah, but Snapper was different. He was down-to-earth. No bullpucky. ‘Do what the people sent you here to do,’ was his motto. He would get so pissed when the party demanded he spend time on the phone soliciting campaign contributions. ‘That’s not what I’m here for,’ he’d bellow, and hang up on whoever was bugging him. Damn it. I miss him.”

  “I know you do. But let’s not get maudlin. You have a big day ahead. Remember, it’s the new you!”

  “Indeed. Got any breakfast food for me?”

  “Ha. You? Ms. Protein-bar?”

  “It’s the new me, remember? How about whipping up some eggs? Toast?”

  Colin smiled at this enlightened version of CJ. “I think I can whip something up. Go get dressed.”

  CJ headed to her suite and pondered what she should wear for her makeover. Does it matter? Today it did. She had never gone to a fancy-dancy salon for her haircuts. It was always the Clip Shop. In and out. Thirty-five bucks. This was a new experience, and she had to admit she was a little intimidated. How odd. She could run a congressman’s office, handle all sorts of political types, Masters of the Universe, complaining constituents, and all the nonsense at work, but walking into a high-end salon made her nervous. Simply put, she was not accustomed to anything fancy or frivolous. Dealing with the assholes of Washington was something she had become proficient at. Getting glamorized was completely different.

  She pulled on her best pantsuit, charcoal gray. The one she would usually wear to a luncheon. Not too fancy but upscale enough to say she was important. She toyed with the idea of her Tiffany silver-braid necklace—the one Kick had given her for her twenty-first birthday—but decided it was too much. Taking a deep breath, she looked closely in the mirror. “Okay, girlfriend. Say good-bye to the old, dowdy CJ. The new and improved version will be here soon.”

  Colin once again insisted on driving her to work, and he said he would pick her up to take her to her hair appointment. He was not comfortable with her meandering alone while some maniac was yet to be identified and incarcerated.

  CJ was getting out of the car when she reminded Colin to pick her up at two thirty. “My appointment is at three o’clock. It’s only three miles from here, but you know how traffic can be. I don’t want Ms. Fake Accent getting her panties in a knot.”

  “You got it. See you later.”

  “Call me if you hear anything from Matt,” CJ said, and turned to enter the Rayburn House Office Building.

  “You’ll be the first,” Colin replied, not sure whether or not CJ had heard him.

  “Hey, CJ!” It was Marcus the security guard calling her over to him. “Remember the dude you asked me about? Mr. French Whorehouse?”

  “I sure do. What about him?”

  “I think I smelled him here when I got in.”

  “Really?” She was at full attention. So, Mr. Crappy Cologne was back on the scene. The taste of bile crawled up her throat.

  “Yes, ma’am. And I think he was headed down the corridor. I didn’t see nothin’, but I sure smelled somethin’ goin’ in that direction. Thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thank you, Marcus.” CJ wasn’t sure if she should pursue this latest sighting. Make that sniffing. She stood for a moment and decided to walk toward Dillard’s office to see if the smell continued. It did. Voices. Again.

  “What do you mean you’re not going to try again? You were supposed to handle this one, too! Hell, Franklin. You get a nice piece of the action. You need to earn it.” Whoever was speaking sounded angry and frustrated. Suddenly, an inner door slammed, and CJ could no longer hear what was going on. But she had a name. Franklin. Was that a first name or a last name? No matter. It was a lead.

  She crept away from the door, fearing she would have another run-in with the rancid-smelling Franklin, and headed to her office. She scrolled through her phone trying to find Matt’s number until she realized it was Colin who had made all the contacts. “Damn.” She dialed Colin’s number, but when the call went straight to voice mail, she remembered that he had a board meeting and would be unreachable fo
r a couple of hours. “Hell.” She left him a short message. “Call me. Mr. Crappy Cologne is on the premises, and I don’t have Matt’s number.”

  She pulled out the directory for all the agencies of the government, dialed the number for the FBI, and got the usual recording. “If you know your party’s extension, please dial it now.”

  “Cripes. If I knew my party’s extension, I wouldn’t be calling you!” CJ yelled into the phone. “Whatever happened to human contact?” she asked herself out loud. Finally, after pressing 0 a dozen times, a living, breathing person answered. CJ was almost out of breath. “Agent Matthew Mullan, please.”

  After what seemed like the longest three minutes of her life, Matt finally got on the line. “This is Agent Mullan. How can I help you?”

  “Matt. It’s CJ. I have a name for you.”

  “A name? What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Crappy Cologne was here . . . in the building. I overheard him arguing with someone in Dillard’s office—I assume it was Dillard—and Dillard called him Franklin.”

  “Franklin? Is that a first name or a last name?” Matt pushed.

  “I have no way of knowing, but I heard the name just a few minutes ago. What should I do?”

  Matt stiffened. “Do absolutely nothing. Stay in your office. Lock the door.”

  CJ was trembling. “Uh . . . okay. Are you coming here?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there within the half hour. Sit tight.”

  She hung up the phone and left another message for Colin. “I spoke to Matt. He’s on the way. I’ve locked the door of my office. Call me as soon as you get this.”

  CJ was shaking by now. She tried to use logic on herself. No one would pull a stunt here. The building is surrounded by security. It’s going to be okay.

  A sudden knock on the door sent her flying out of her seat. She didn’t know if she should answer it or not.

  “Ms. Jansen?” It was Marcus. “You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.” She moved closer to the door. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes. Nobody in the hall, either.”

  CJ unlocked the door and let him in. “Sorry. Just a little jumpy. A lot’s happened.”

  “I can only imagine. I just wanted to let you know that the smelly dude left. Man, were you right about him. What’s up with that?”

  CJ began to relax a bit. “Maybe he has really bad BO.”

  They both broke into a guffaw. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Jansen?”

  “No. I’m fine. But thanks for checking on me.”

  “No problem. I’ll keep you posted if we have any more stinky aromas in the building.”

  About a half hour later, another knock on her door made her bounce from her chair again. “CJ? It’s Matt Mullan.”

  She opened the door and let Matt and another man—someone she didn’t recognize—in. She gave Matt a suspicious look.

  “CJ, this is Agent Blomberg. He’s working on a case that may have something to do with all of this.”

  “All of what? I don’t know what the ‘this’ is!” CJ was trying to keep her cool.

  “I’m not at liberty to give you any details at the moment, but we did get a match from your sketch. The guy’s name is Leonard Franklin. Yes. You heard it right.”

  CJ’s hand flew to her mouth. “But . . . who is he? And why is he after me?”

  “We don’t know for sure if he’s the one who tampered with your car or tried to run you down, but he does have a rap sheet a few miles long.”

  “Who else would be after me?” CJ was practically pleading.

  “We are going to assume he’s part of it, but we need you to make a positive ID.”

  “How? Are you going to arrest him?”

  “We are going to bring him in for questioning. You don’t need to concern yourself as to why or how. We just need you to confirm that it was he whom you saw in this building.”

  “When is all this going to happen?” Suddenly CJ was concerned about her spa appointment.

  “Probably sometime tomorrow. I can’t give you any more details about it. At least for now. I spoke with Colin, and he’ll be keeping an eye on you until we can sort this out.” Mullan spoke very matter-of-factly.

  “Wait. You and Colin decided who was going to be my babysitter?” CJ didn’t know if she should be pissed or relieved.

  “CJ, I know this has been a very trying time, but you’re going to have to trust me. Tomorrow, if you make the ID, we’ll get the ball rolling for protection. Okay? Meanwhile, Colin isn’t going to be alone in this. I’ll be hanging around, too. I have the evening off, so maybe he can show me how adept he is at using a microwave.” Matt smiled at her, trying desperately to cut through the tension and put her at ease.

  CJ heaved a big sigh. Her head was spinning. It was all too much.

  The rest of the day blew by quickly. There were still piles of condolence cards to respond to, letters, and e-mails. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get through all of it, but she was certain she wasn’t going to let it bury her in worry.

  At two thirty, her phone rang, and it was Colin, letting her know he was outside. Computer in sleep mode. Check. Desk drawers locked. Check. Lamp off. Check. Ass in place. Check.

  On the ride to the salon, CJ and Colin were trying to come up with some ideas about what to serve for dinner. “No offense to Kick, but I don’t think I can look at another egg pie this week,” CJ whined.

  “Well, there’s always chicken! Might as well keep the dinner in the family. We’ll stop at a Hatchery and get a few dinners. Here, call them. How long do you think your thing will be?” Colin handed the phone to CJ.

  “Not sure. I’m thinking two hours, maybe.”

  “Okay, so tell them we’ll pick the food up around six.”

  She placed the order for three full dinners: roasted chicken, several sides, biscuits, and apple pie for dessert.

  “Three dinners? You on some kind of binge eating?”

  “Matt is going to be very impressed with your culinary skills! Open door. Place food on microwave plate. Shut door. Press high, medium, or low button. And one button for the timer. Ding!”

  Colin looked at her as if she had gone around the bend. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  “Matt said he would be interested to see your microwave cooking skills in action. He’s coming by tonight to help you babysit me.”

  “Oh, is that the plan?”

  “It is.” CJ sunk deeply into the buttery soft seat as Colin continued the drive to the salon.

  CJ looked over her shoulder as she was exiting the car, and asked, “Are you coming in?”

  “I guess I should. Being on duty and all.” Colin gave her a funny grin.

  “Good. This way I won’t feel like a total alien in that place.”

  The salon was modern and posh, and everyone had some bizarre haircut or color. CJ almost turned and walked out. “Ken I hulp yew?” A very tall, thin, androgynous person with chopped black hair and big black glasses peered at her.

  Head up. “Yes, Carol Anne Jansen. I have an appointment.”

  “Follow me.” Andro flicked its head, indicating a direction.

  CJ was shown to a changing room, where she donned a smock. Then she was ushered to a chair to meet the stylist.

  A young woman with pink hair appeared. CJ thought she looked very much like Cyndi Lauper.

  “Hi, I’m Alicia. What brings you here today?” the Lauper look-alike inquired.

  “Something new. Something fresh. Uh, but not too fresh!”

  “Hmmmm . . .” Alicia tilted her head from one side to another, inspecting CJ’s head of hair. “I think a blunt, chin-length cut with some blond and caramel highlights. We may want to do something with the eyebrows. They could use a little shaping. What about makeup? Do you wear any?”

  CJ was mortified. Of course she wore makeup! Was it that bad?

  “Uh, yes. A little.”

  “We’re not going to make you look like Baby Jane.
Just a little perk. Sound okay?” Alicia had seen the type before. Wants a little change. Nothing dramatic but enough that people will notice.

  Again, CJ took a big inhale. “Okay. Let’s do it!” She made the sign of the cross and laughed, reminding herself again that she wasn’t Catholic. But she believed it had worked on getting her car started, so she thought it was important for the makeover, too.

  Two and a half hours later, she emerged from the back. Colin stood up. “Holy guacamole! Wow. CJ, you look fantastic! Kinda Uma Thurmanish—but not so blond. Or crazy. At least that’s how she is in the movies.”

  Colin was right. CJ looked great. And she knew it. She felt it, too. Yes, a new CJ was emerging from the chrysalis of the old.

  As they headed back to the house, CJ kept pulling down the sun visor to peek at her new look in the mirror. “Wow is right, Colin. I have eyes! And they’re pretty!”

  Colin was very happy to see that CJ was doing much better than she had over the past few weeks. Heck, past four years. Since the death of her brother, actually.

  A few minutes after they arrived, Matt called on the phone at the gate. Colin let him in and walked him to the kitchen. “Wow! You look great!” was the first thing out of Matt’s mouth.

  “Thank you!” CJ was almost blushing. “But it makes me think I must have been really drab before!”

  “Not at all!” Both men realized their overreaction to her newfound looks might have made her even more self-conscious.

  “Okay. So is this a new-and-improved version?”

  “Absolutely. We just never saw all that beauty you were hiding.” Colin gave Matt a “how am I doing? look.” Matt gave him the thumbs-up.

  They pulled dishes out of the cabinets, heated up the sides, opened a bottle of Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc, and made their way into the great room, taking a seat at the massive dining table. “I don’t remember the last time we actually sat at a dinner table.” CJ was suddenly sentimental.

  “Me either. But this is a day to celebrate the new you. And tomorrow we’ll be putting most of this behind us,” Colin reassured her.