neighborhoods. Pardon me, I grew up speaking the English language and I’m accustomed to speaking it the way I learned.”
Mueller put his thumbs in the tops of his trousers. He said, “So you think this fossil has a claim on us? Let’s see what he’s got.” He reached toward MacReedy’s jacket. The old man had put his precious envelope in an inside pocket.
Lindsey put his hand on Mueller’s forearm. “Let—” he said, but before he got any farther Ms. Wilbur had gently opened the old man’s jacket and extracted the envelope. She said, “I’ll take a look at this.”
Mueller said, “No you won’t. You’re retired. You have no job here any more.”
Ms. Wilbur said, “I still work here for another—” She paused and turned to look at the digital clock. “—hour and a half. As long as the great and benevolent corporation is paying my salary, I might as well stay useful.”
She made her way to her desk and clicked away at the computer keyboard. Lindsey and Mueller stood behind her like high school boys shouldering each other in competition for a cheerleader’s attention. Ms. Wilbur turned around, grinning at them. She still held Mr. MacReedy’s envelope, its contents now extracted and carefully unfolded along age-yellowed crease lines. Even after six decades or longer, there was no mistaking the ornate scrollwork and Byzantine language of a life insurance policy.
“There it is, boys. A perfect match.”
Lindsey leaned forward, comparing the glowing letters on the computer screen with the faded writing—not even typing—on the pages. The letters on the screen were green. The ink on the policy had long since turned to brown.
Lindsey said, “Is that right?”
Ms. Wilbur said, “Look. Face amount is the same on the policy and the screen. It’s a joint policy, made out to Edward Joseph MacReedy and Nola Elizabeth Rownes MacReedy. Upon death of either party, the surviving party is to receive full payment of benefits. Of course, look here.” She pointed to the screen. “Policy was all paid off by 1934. It’s a whole life policy. Been drawing compound interest ever since. Look here, the cash surrender value exceeded the face value by ’36. They should have paid it out back then, but this doesn’t show that they did. Shows the policy still in force.”
“Huh. What’s it worth now?” Lindsey asked.
Ms. Wilbur clicked away until the computer screen showed a new figure. “Based on an average annual interest rate of four-point-five per cent, International Surety owes Mr. MacReedy $400.19.”
A cloud of menthol swept over Lindsey and Ms. Wilbur. “For God’s sake, pay the old guy his money and get him out of here. Give him the twenty-five bucks out of petty cash. Or cut him a check for four hundred.”
“And nineteen cents,” Ms. Wilbur added.
“Okay,” Mueller grumbled. “And nineteen lousy cents. How the hell they could play around like that beats me.”
Lindsey said, “Money went a lot farther during the Depression. You ought to learn a little history, Elmer.”
“Yeah. And maybe join a sewing circle while I’m at it.”
“Even so, it’s an awfully small policy.” Lindsey studied the papers in Ms. Wilbur’s hand. “I mean, a $25 whole life insurance policy.”
Ms. Wilbur said, “It’s too bad you never knew Mr. Woodstreet. He’d tell you a thing or two. Back in the Depression you could hold a first class funeral for $25. That’s what they took the policies for, you know. People had a hard, sad life. A good send-off to the other side was important. Very important. Some of the policies they issued were for even less than that.”
Mueller said, “Well, we can put it in through KlameNet. If National doesn’t issue a check, what the hell, we can take it out of the coffee money. You’ll chip in, won’t you, Lindsey?”
Lindsey said, “You’re getting too far ahead. There’s something odd about this.”
Mueller rocked back on his heels and exhaled. “Don’t tell me you want to pull this one, put it into SPUDS.”
“I don’t know.”
“Sheesh, I don’t see how this company stays in business. Hire a flake like you, turn you loose on every kind of fruitcake case you want to play with. You’re like a baby. Anything shiny, anything different, it grabs your attention.”
Lindsey said, “Now, Elmer, that isn’t fair. I’ve saved the company a lot of money on those odd cases. Those comic books that were stolen on Telegraph Avenue, and the Duesenberg that was driven away from the Kleiner Mansion at Lake Merrit—I had a lot of help on those cases, but we saved International Surety something like three quarters of a million dollars.”
“Yeah. And that B-17 that disappeared from the airport, I suppose you covered yourself with glory on that one, too.”
Lindsey tried not to blush. “That was a tragic case. And it did cost the company, I’ll admit that. But when there’s a legitimate claim, it’s our duty to pay.”
Mueller exhaled. “Exactly my point.” He patted Lindsey on the shoulder. “Exactly my point. We owe the little man $25. If he didn’t cash in his policy when it matured, that’s his problem. We don’t owe him four hundred. Let’s pay the twenty-five and get on with our business. We have no reason to poke around in some ancient policy.” He reached for his wallet. “Hell, if nobody else will pay, I’ll personally pony up the $25.”
Lindsey heard a dry, rustling sound from behind him. He turned. Mr. MacReedy was struggling to stand up, feeling his pockets frantically. “My papers,” he said, “where are my papers?”
Ms. Wilbur hurried to him and helped him stand. She said, “Here’s everything, Mr. MacReedy. Not to worry. We were just checking our computer records against your policy. Everything seems to be in order.”
Mr. MacReedy said, “I have to have my papers.”
Ms. Wilbur folded the policy and stuffed it back into the old envelope. She helped Mr. MacReedy place the envelope carefully in his inside jacket pocket. Ms. Wilbur said, “Here, wait just a moment.”
She turned back to her desk, opened the drawer and shut it again. She came back with an oversized safety pin and pinned Mr. MacReedy’s jacket pocket closed. Now the envelope was safe.
Elmer Mueller said, “You’re placing your claim, based on that life policy, Mr. MacReedy?”
MacReedy nodded. He appeared to be afraid of Mueller. Lindsey couldn’t blame him.
Mueller said, “We’ll need a death certificate for the insured and a birth certificate or other identification proving that you are the legal beneficiary of the policy.” He turned toward Lindsey and snickered. “For the price of a bottle of scotch.”
MacReedy said, “My wife died three weeks ago last Tuesday. She was buried three days later.”
Ms. Wilbur said, “Who paid for the funeral, Mr. MacReedy? I thought that was what you needed this money for.”
“No, the Center paid for the funeral. We lived at the Paul Robeson Benevolent Retirement Center. We lived there together for the
