by Simon Wood
taken from Pinnacle Investments’s Web pages. He removed a sheaf of papers from the envelope he brought
with him and passed it to Josh.
Briefly, Josh scanned the papers. “So they got over the hump,” he said, offering a logical conclusion he didn’t believe.
“Yeah, but for their success their clients had to die when the trend was for them to live. The rest of their competitors either went bust or were bought out.”
“How do they account for their success?” Josh pushed his plate away. The discussion had sapped his hunger.
“Are you finished with that?” Bob asked, nodding at Josh’s plate.
“Yeah, knock yourself out.”
Bob hijacked the remainder of the hash brown between his knife and fork, and put it onto his plate.
“You should never let food go to waste. It should be a crime,” he said, and made a piece of Josh’s breakfast disappear. “To answer your question, the official statement for their renewed fortunes is shrewd management.
They say their investment spread is much wider
and not as vulnerable as their competition. The laws have relaxed on who can make a viatical settlement. It used to be the terminally ill, but now it’s anyone over seventy-five.”
“But I was neither of those.”
“That’s right, but I got you in on your lifestyle as a pilot and recreational rock climber.”
“Yeah, I used to rock climb, but I stopped after
Abby was born.” Once an avid climber in the Sierras, he had given it up at Kate’s request. Although he’d never had a serious fall—only a minor mishap that landed him two days in the hospital—she didn’t relish the thought of bringing up a baby with no father.
“Yeah, but you might take it up again and I told
them there’s hereditary cancer on the male side.”
Josh studied the black coffee in his mug. His reflection stared back, dark and distorted in the shimmering liquid. Cancer was one of his greatest fears, and he tried to hide it deep within himself and do his best to forget. His father had died of prostate cancer at forty nine when Josh was twenty-one, and his paternal uncle had died of the same thing three years younger. His grandfather had died at a similar age of lung cancer, but he’d been a lifelong smoker. He didn’t know what had happened to his great-grandfather. He didn’t dare to find out.
“They took you because you were a high-risk candidate and worth a flutter in their opinion,” Bob added.
Their Southern waitress took the plates away. Both men rejected the offer to see the menu again, but accepted coffee. She refilled their mugs and promised to
return with the bill later.
“Okay. They say good management made them survive, but what do you say?” Josh said.
“Considering what has been happening to you, I
think they’re killing their clients, and the figures bear it out. The average Pinnacle Investments viatical client lives two point four years, but their closest competitor’s rate is five years and getting longer. They don’t care who their clients are, because they’ll decide when it is time to collect.” Bob paused. “And you, my friend, are on their endangered list.”
“Bob, if it hadn’t been for that guy Jenks, I would tell you that you are talking out of your ass, but he said I was worth money when I was dead. I’m only of value to three people—Kate, Abby and Pinnacle Investments.
And I don’t believe Kate and Abby are trying
to kill me.”
Bob took a swig from his coffee. “I contacted my
buddies in the insurance trade to see if they’d done any business with Pinnacle Investments. They had, and several of them had clients die in unusual, but explicable accidents.
One of them crashed into a river and drowned.”
In the parking lot of the diner, Josh leaned against Bob’s Toyota and placed his folded arms on the roof of the car. Bob was about to get into the car and asked, “What’s up?”
“We may know who’s doing this, but how do we
stop it? How do we call them off? We’ve got nothing concrete to give the cops.”
“What do you suggest?” Bob asked.
“You buy my policy back.”
Bob frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think
they’d go for it. It wouldn’t be in their interests.”
“We’ll compensate them. I have insurance coming on the Cessna that would cover their losses.”
“I don’t know, Josh.”
“You’re going to have to try. It’s my only option.”
It seemed everyone in Sacramento had converged on the mall this Saturday morning. The parking lot were a roadblock. Parking had been a bitch, but Kate had found a space for the minivan after fifteen minutes.
Once out of the car, the sidewalks were a wave of people and she always seemed to be swimming against the
tide. She clutched Abby’s hand and at the first opportunity darted inside the mall.
In a lot of ways, Kate wanted the hustle and bustle of the mall. The crowds and piped classical music were a welcome distraction from her unwanted thoughts.
Abby aided this desire. The girl’s demands and blindness to the problems at home diverted Kate’s attention.
Without a distraction, Josh preoccupied her mind 247.
It had become increasingly difficult to live with him.
She loved him, but she couldn’t cope with the curveballs his life kept throwing at them. The two murder attempts, Mark Keegan’s death, police, mystery men, a
television expose and the lies were too much—the lies more than anything. Josh had betrayed her, he’d said what he’d done was for the better good, but it didn’t make it easier to swallow. If he’d lied about the bribe, then what else was he keeping to himself? The prospect of living on a knife edge didn’t appeal—there were always lacerations.
Abby bounced up and down threatening to take off, restrained only by the hold of her mother’s hand.
“Where can we go?”
Kate looked down at her daughter’s beaming face and painfully smiled back. “Anywhere you want, honey.”
Abby led Kate through a merry dance of stores. Kate indulged Abby’s every whim, letting her play with toys and try on clothes. Her daughter’s energy warmed her.
She found it easier to smile, to laugh, and be happy with every passing minute.
In the food court, they sat surrounded by their purchases, the result of the day’s indulgences. Although
most of the bags were for Abby, she egged Kate on to splurge on herself. Armed with a hotdog and milkshake, Abby munched and slurped happily. Kate, with
only a muffin and a latte, looked on in disbelief at her blissful daughter. She wouldn’t normally let her daughter eat junk food, but today she let it slide.
“Don’t think you can live like this every day,” Kate said. “Today is a special day, okay?”
“Special? How?” Abby asked through hotdog-packed
chipmunk cheeks.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full. And I hope
you’re not going to tell Wiener what you’re eating.”
Abby shook her head and made an especially large
swallow.
Kate smiled. “It’s a special day because we haven’t had one in a while, so I thought we should have one.
So, are you enjoying it?”
Abby beamed. “You bet, Mom.”
“I thought we could catch a movie, but you can go to one more store before we go. So, where’s it to be?”
Kate cocked her head to one side.
“The Disney Store,” she said without a moment’s
hesitation.
Kate nodded at the food. “Are you finished with
that?”
Abby made an extraordinarily large suck on the
milkshake straw. “I am now.”
Kate couldn’t help herself and laughed out loud and Abby joined in. “Let’s go then,” Kate said.
&nbs
p; Kate dumped Abby’s half-eaten food and milkshake
in the trash, but kept hold of her latte. Abby set off ahead at a half-running, half-walking pace toward the escalators for the Disney Store on the upper level. Kate told her daughter to slow down, which Abby did reluctantly.
Mother and daughter hopped onto the empty
moving staircase.
Halfway up the escalator, Kate’s good mood evaporated at the sight of a head emerging on the upper
level. Resting on the top stair of the escalator, looking disembodied, the head smiled. The higher the escalator climbed the more Kate could see of the person
waiting for them. Belinda Wong appeared to grow out of the ground. Kate twisted around to move against the moving staircase, but people had climbed on behind her. The last thing she wanted was to speak to
this woman, but invisible hands pushed her forward against her will. Inexorably, the escalator drew Kate closer to the woman who was blackmailing her husband.
Belinda
leered as Kate stepped off the escalator with
her daughter. The coldness in her dark eyes held a destructive element. Kate was sure the deadly force was
intended for them. She was no match for Belinda
armed with a multitude of store bags and a daughter.
Kate’s stomach made a complete revolution. Her grip around the cardboard coffee cup weakened and it almost slipped from her grasp.
“Kate. Abby. I saw you down there and I thought I’d say hi,” Bell said, as smooth as silk.
“Hi, Bell,” Abby said.
“Hello, Belinda,” Kate echoed.
Kate didn’t stop and proceeded toward the Disney
Store, but Abby stopped her by choosing to stick by the blackmailer.
“Come on, Abby. I thought you wanted the Disney
Store. We don’t have much time if we want to catch that movie.” Kate tried not to sound too harsh, but failed to a large extent.
“I was just going to talk for a minute, Mommy,”
Abby pleaded.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll come along with you. I wanted to talk to you, Kate,” Bell said.
The suggestion sounded as palatable as cyanide,
but Kate conceded at Abby’s support of the request.
The three walked in unison into the store. It was sickening for Kate to be this close to the woman, but she had to keep up appearances for the world and her daughter.
“Hi, Mickey,” Abby said and waved at the oversized mouse with its human occupant inside.
The mouse waved back and stared longingly at the
Asian woman’s figure when she passed by.
Dropping the bags to the floor, Abby ran over to the stuffed toy section.
Bell took advantage of the moment alone with her
ex-lover’s wife. “Kate, I thought we’d chat about things—life, you know.”
“Belinda, we—”
Bell interrupted with a raised hand. “Bell, please.
We’re all friends here, Kate.”
“Bell, we’ve got nothing to talk about.”
“Oh, I disagree, Kate. We have a lot in common.”
“Nothing you’ve got to say will be of interest to me,” Kate said.
“But I think it will.”
“I don’t care what you think. Josh has told me all about you and your blackmailing scheme for the bribe.
know it all. I suppose it’s you who’s been feeding Channel Three all the dirt.”
Bell raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You are well informed.”
“We
have no secrets,” Kate said.
“I’m not so sure I would be that forgiving if I were you. You must be a very understanding woman. Far too good for a man like Josh.”
Containing her frustrations no longer, Kate stormed away toward her daughter. “Come on, Abby, it’s time to go,” she snapped.
“Oh, Mom,” Abby whined.
“No, Abby. I said we’re going. So let’s go,” Kate snapped.
Abby relented with low-pitched mumbles. She picked up her bags and stormily strode out of the shop with her mother.
“Stay away from us, Bell. We don’t need you around,”
Kate said, passing Bell on the way out. Kate sneered contemptuously at the Asian woman. Bell’s pretense that they were friends and had something in common disgusted her.
“You’re a good woman, Kate. I don’t know many
women who would forgive their husband’s infidelity,”
Bell called loudly to Kate’s back.
Kate stopped and spun around in the entrance of the store, jerking Abby around with her, while the seven-foot cartoon mouse looked on behind them. Bewildered, Kate didn’t know what Bell was talking about, but she was beginning to understand. Bell recognized the look of bewilderment on Kate’s face and squeaked a laugh, clamping
her hands over her mouth and bending forward in
amusement. After a moment, she straightened and let her hands drop, the laughter knocked aside by spiteful rage.
“So, you don’t know I was fucking him for over a
year?” she spat loudly and triumphantly.
slack-jawed, Kate dropped the half-drunk latte.
coffee exploded on impact and sent the hot li
splashing over Kate’s bare legs and feet, but she was too numb to feel it.
“Oh, shit,” Mickey Mouse said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Family Stop Insurance Services was closed on Saturdays, but Bob Deuce opened up his office, not for business, but for his friend. Buying back Josh’s viatical
settlement from Pinnacle Investments was worth a try.
Bob had little else to suggest.
He sat at his desk and removed the papers from the envelope he’d taken to the diner. Leafing through the pages, he pulled out a printout from Pinnacle Investments’s Web site. The page detailed the names of the
important people for each of the company’s divisions.
He tapped his finger on the vice president in charge of the Viatical Settlement Division, Dexter Tyrell.
“I’ll start with you.”
Pinnacle Investments was open for business six days a week, so someone would be there. Bob hoped to
speak to Dexter Tyrell, but he doubted he would be there on a Saturday. Mentally, he crossed his fingers for luck, picked up the phone and dialed the number listed.
“Pinnacle Investments Viatical Settlements Division, your life is in our hands. My name is Julie,” the receptionist said. “How can I assist you?”
“Hi, I’d like to speak to Dexter Tyrell, please.”
“Can I tell him who is calling?”
“It’s Bob Deuce, from Family Stop Insurance Services.
I’m an agent for Pinnacle Investments.”
“I’ll just see if he’s available.”
Bob was put on hold and something from Easy Listening’s Greatest Hits, Volume Umpteen, dripped down
the phone line. The music ended.
“Hello, Mr. Deuce. I’ll just connect you,” Julie said.
Bob was in luck; Tyrell worked Saturdays.
“Dexter Tyrell,” the executive said, in a time-is money tone.
“I’m Bob Deuce from Family Stop Insurance Services.
I’ve acted as an agent for Pinnacle Investments in the past.”
“It’s nice to speak to someone who creates business for us,” Tyrell said condescendingly.
“Well, Mr. Tyrell, I have a request from one of our clients.”
“Okay, Bob, fire away.”
Bob raised an eyebrow at Tyrell’s use of his first name. Bob supposed Tyrell thought of him as one of the boys, being in the insurance game and all. The informality amused him. Tyrell seemed insincere, so Bob
thought he’d be playful.
“You see, it’s like this, Dexter.” Bob placed a lot of topspin on Tyrell’s name. He smirked and paused.
“Yes,” Tyrell said, stretchin
g the word out.
“I have a client who made a viatical settlement eighteen months or so ago. And I’m inquiring whether it
would be possible for him to reverse the settlement.”
Tyrell didn’t answer. The question hung in the air, turning stale.
I’m not sure that’s possible, Bob.” Tyrell seemed embarrassed by his unfortunate answer.
“Any reason?”
“Obviously, you understand the process of a viatical settlement.”
“Obviously.”
“Then, you understand the costs incurred by Pinnacle Investments with the cash settlement and the existing monthly dues, et cetera.”
“Yes.”
“It isn’t in our interests to reverse the settlement.”
“My client would be prepared to return the cash remuneration and any other costs involved,” Bob offered.
“Why is our client doing this?”
Bob shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His mind
raced for an answer. “His financial circumstances have changed and he’s interested in getting his life insurance policy back because of its sizeable face value.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.” A nervous tone
crept into Bob’s voice. The source of his anxiety was clear. He had the distinct feeling he was conversing with a spider while he was the fly that trembled on the web.
“Who is our client?”
“His name is Joshua Michaels.”
A pregnant pause intervened, a pause in dire need of inducing.
Does he know? Is he the one? In the silence of the telephone line Bob wondered if Tyrell was the man sanctioning the murder of his clients. Contact with this man frightened him. It made sense for the order to come from up high. It was unlikely a minion of Pinnacle Investments would have the corporate clout to order people’s deaths. Also, it would be possible for a top executive to hide the excessive expenses needed to hire a
professional killer. Chipped ice ran down Bob’s collar; Tyrell knew his name.
“I don’t remember his file,”—Tyrell paused again—
“but I don’t think I can accommodate your friend this time around.”
Bob’s mouth went dry. Friend? Who said Josh was
my friend? The insinuation Tyrell knew Bob and Josh were friends only reinforced his fear that Pinnacle Investments’s vice president was killing his viatical
