Home Again: Starting Over

by Becki Willis

“It has been my pleasure. And do not even think of paying. Your meal is on the house.”

  “Oh no, we couldn’t let you do that,” Madison protested. “I’m treating Genny tonight, for helping me with a project I’m working on.”

  “The meal is paid for,” he insisted. “You can buy the drinks.”

  “Very well. Thank you, then, for your generosity.”

  “Yes, Tomas, thank you so much,” Genny agreed.

  “It is my pleasure. Shall I send another round of margaritas?”

  “Oh, yes. And make mine a grande this time.” Genny’s eyes twinkled with mischief. If Madison was only paying for drinks, she might as well splurge.

  ***

  Madison wasted no time in researching Magnus Insurance. It came as no real surprise to discover they had numerous complaints against them and had been fined several times. But with none of their indiscretions significant enough to have their license pulled, the company was still in business.

  It took half a day of searching, but Madison finally unearthed another link. Magnus was a subsidiary of a larger, more prominent insurance company. Madison was familiar with Omega Insurance, even without the link to Jerry Don Peavey. She often did temp work for their agent in the area.

  It seemed the perfect time to drop in on her associate.

  While Madison had no qualms approaching the namesake of the Dean Lewis Insurance Company, his wife was a different story. Madison did not care for the opinionated and bitter woman. It amazed her how a polite, affable man such as Dean could be shackled to a mean, spiteful woman such as Myrna. If it were up to his wife, their agency would never use In a Pinch again, but Dean was pleased with the work Madison did and insisted on calling her each time they were, indeed, in a pinch.

  Myrna Lewis fancied herself something of a horticultural expert. Her yard was her pride and joy. Woe be to anyone, man or beast, who dared to trample it. Shortly after coming to town, Madison and Bethani had witnessed her wrath firsthand when a 4-H show goat escaped its lead rope and dined upon her prized cabbage roses. Bethani filmed the entire escapade on her phone, including the part when Myrna came flying out of her house with a broom. The video went viral, Bethani became a hero to the very kids she mocked, and Myrna confronted the teen in a showdown that brought out Madison’s momma-bear instincts.

  It was their first confrontation, but hardly their last. The worst had been when Madison uncovered the fact that Myrna’s sister, Darla Mullins, led a secret life. Myrna still held Madison responsible for Darla’s death, even though her claims were preposterous. Even Darla’s son knew the truth. Derron not only worked for Madison, but he was also her friend.

  Scouting to see if the coast was clear, Madison drove past the Lewis residence en route to the insurance agency. Sure enough, Myrna was at home. And outside.

  Locals often talked about Myrna’s method of gardening, but this was the first time Madison witnessed it for herself. Had she been thinking straight, Maddy would have pulled out her camera and snapped a few pictures to share with Bethani, but the sight before her was so outrageous that all she could do was stare in astonishment. Her foot slipped from the gas pedal and the car rolled to a stop as she ogled the woman clipping her yard by hand.

  Part of the hilarity was the woman, herself. Myrna Lewis had the misfortune of having no discernible shape. She was like one solid chunk. A block with awkward arms and short, chubby legs, and topped by a head. No neck. No visible breasts. No waist. And no fashion sense, whatsoever.

  Beside Myrna, Madison felt like a glamorous model. Madison, whose wardrobe still left much to be desired, even after a much-needed shopping trip with Derron. After weeks of badgering from her fashion-conscious friend, she had agreed to let him select a handful of new outfits for her. She wore one of them today. Khaki walking shorts, stylish sandals, cream scooped-neck tee, topped by a plaid shirt that doubled as a jacket. Muted blues and greens crisscrossed over a khaki background to pull her casual and stylish look together.

  In contrast, Myrna wore mustard-colored knit shorts that did nothing for her squat figure. Nor did the garish orange and black athletic shoes and cuffed black socks against her pale skin. Her t-shirt was red, oversized, and at odds with the rest of her outfit. Mid-way down her body, presumably near her waist, was her ever-present fanny pack, this one specifically geared for gardening.

  But the most amusing part of the spectacle was the position from which Myrna clipped her flowerbed. She lay upon the bed of grass, using shears and a measuring tape to perfect the cut. When she was satisfied with one section, she rolled to another.

  Madison watched in fascination as Myrna reached around into her fanny pack and whipped out a pair of ordinary household scissors. She worked on a troublesome spot, trimming the edges of the flowerbed to an acceptable height. She measured twice, just to be certain. Then she was rolling again, a solid mass of color contradictions and sharp utensils.

  “Something is so wrong with this scene,” Madison muttered aloud. She shook her head in wonderment.

  A jogger happened down the street at that moment. Myrna began waving her arms in warning, long before the man reached her. “Stay away from my grass!” she bellowed. “Don’t you dare step foot on my lawn!”

  The runner kept coming, paying her no heed. Ear plug connections dangled from either side of his flushed face, blocking the sound of the woman’s bitter rant.

  Madison recognized Barry Redmond at the same moment he looked up and saw her. His entire demeanor changed, and for a moment his feet faltered. Then he began running full speed, directly toward Madison.

  It was not until that moment that Madison realized she had stopped in the middle of the street. She started to accelerate, but Barry slammed into the side of her car. She jerked to a stop, giving herself a mild case of whiplash.

  “What? Are you stalking me now?” the man raged through the glass, palms thrust against it.

  Just for spite, Madison rolled the window down. Barry surged forward, smacking his forehead on the doorframe. The metal—sizzling from the Texas sun—left a red slash across his skin.

  “Keep touching my car and you’ll owe me a car wash to get the sweaty palm prints off.”

  “I asked if you were stalking me!”

  “Believe me, I have better things to do than stalk you, Barry Redmond.”

  “Then what are you doing down this street? You don’t live here.”

  “Nor do you. And this is a public thoroughfare. I have every right to drive down this street, just as you have every right to jog down this sidewalk.”

  From behind them, Myrna Lewis added her bellowed remarks. “Neither one of you have the right to destroy my yard! Shoo! Get away from here. Your exhaust fumes will wilt my petunias. And your sweat better not fall on my grass, Barry Redmond! The salt will ruin my lawn.” Her remarks might have been more effective, had she not been wallowing around on the grass, trying to get her feet beneath her in an attempt to stand.

  As it was, both parties ignored her. Madison consulted the watch dangling from her slender wrist. “Shouldn’t you be at work this time of afternoon?”

  “You forget. I’m president of the bank. I set my own hours.”

  “Ah, yes, banker’s hours. So much for the old adage an honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work.” She snapped her fingers in an ‘ah, shucks’ gesture.

  “I’ve warned you, Madison Cessna,” he snarled. “Don’t mess with me.”

  “Barry, Barry. You are so paranoid. And so forgetful. I married years ago. My name is Madison Reynolds now.”

  “You are a Cessna, through and through. And a Hamilton!” he spat the name in distaste. “Your great grandmother sided with Juliet Randolph, making us enemies before we were ever born.”

  Madison stared at him, shocked that he still harbored that old grudge. “That was a hundred years ago. Literally. We celebrate the towns’ centennials this year. Get over it, Barry. And grow up.”

  “And get off my sidewalk!” Myrna finally managed to pull
herself upright. She charged over to the car and the bickering couple, brandishing her scissors like a weapon.

  “This isn’t your sidewalk, old woman. Go back to wallowing on your grass.”

  “Why, you arrogant, pompous ass!”

  Myrna swung her arm, making as if to strike him with the scissors. Barry was quicker and stronger than she. He easily grabbed her hand and twisted, popping the instrument right out of her hand. It skidded down her solid body, bounced inward, and left a long red scratch down one leg before clattering onto the sidewalk. Myrna cried out, either in anger or in pain. Perhaps both.

  “Don’t you dare.” Barry’s voice was low and menacing, but Madison had no trouble hearing the words from where she sat in the car. “I think you are forgetting a certain business arrangement we have, one that your husband knows nothing about. Don’t make me call in your loan.”

  “You—You can’t do that!” Myrna sputtered, her face losing its color. “I’m current on my payments.”

  “I can do anything I please. I’m president of the bank.”

  For once, the obnoxious woman had nothing to say. While she stood there with her double chins quivering, Madison spoke up in her defense. Differences with Myrna aside for the moment, she told the banker, “Keep running, Barry. Since you hate the town of Juliet so much, go back to your side of the tracks and leave us alone.”

  “Gladly. I’ve had enough slumming for one day.” Before releasing Myrna Lewis’ hand, he gave it a painful twist and hissed, “Remember what I said. Don’t cross me or you’ll be sorry.” He dropped her hand then, and glared down at Madison. “And that goes for you, too. Stay out of my face.”

  “No problem. And I agree with Myrna.” Myrna, who made a hasty retreat into the house, moving remarkably fast on her short, compact legs. “Don’t drip your sweat all over her grass.”

  With that, Madison sped away. She glanced into the rearview mirror, watching as Barry swiped his foot through the woman’s manicured flowerbed. The crushed blooms were evident from twenty yards away. As a final insult, the banker made a wide, sweeping turn through her prized lawn, tromping childishly across the grass before jogging away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Arriving at the insurance office, Madison did not mention the incident to Dean Lewis. As hard as it was to imagine, she actually felt sorry for his wife. Even though the woman had a knack for antagonizing everyone she knew, not even she deserved the treatment Barry Redmond had dished out.

  “What can I do for you today, Madison?” Dean smiled in greeting. “Are you here to buy that policy we talked about?”

  The question drew her back on track and she promptly forgot the problems with the bitter banker.

  “Not today, I’m afraid. I’m here on another matter entirely. I’ve been doing some work for a private investigator out of Houston, Murray Archer. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. No? Well, no matter. If you would be so kind, I have a few questions I would like to ask you pertaining to insurance.” It wasn’t a direct lie. She did do work for Archer. It simply had nothing to do with why she was here now. Seeing the concern that filled Dean’s eyes, Madison was quick to assure him. “Nothing that would compromise confidentiality or your trust with your clients.”

  “Very well then. What would you like to know?”

  “You are an agent for Omega Insurance, aren’t you? I remember handling some of their claims while working here.”

  “So obviously you already know the answer to that question.”

  “Good point. Okay, so what about a subsidiary of theirs, Magnus Insurance?”

  “I don’t handle that division,” Dean Lewis told her. “Omega is the parent company, but they have several smaller divisions under their umbrella. Most of them concentrate on specific areas, such as the medical field, industrial, food industry, that sort of thing. I prefer to deal with Omega as it has a comprehensive, one-size-fits-all offering.”

  “I’ve checked into some complaints concerning Magnus.”

  Dean nodded. “I’ve heard they have some problems within that division. I think it comes from management, and not training their representatives properly. Some of their agents are more concerned with making the sale than fully explaining their policies.”

  “I imagine that is often the case with many things,” Madison agreed. “I spoke with Tomas Montelongo last night. He mentioned something about that. I didn’t think to ask him, but do you happen to know if there is an agent that serves this area?”

  “Yes, I believe so. A fellow by the name of Hanson, over in Giddings.”

  “Giddings?” That was where A+ Fire Systems was located.

  “I probably have his number here somewhere…”

  “Magnus denied the claim, saying the suppression system was faulty, even though it passed inspection just before the fire. Is denying a claim like that a common practice?”

  “All insurance agencies send out their own claim adjusters and, if need be, their own investigators. They typically base their final decision upon the investigator’s recommendations.”

  “Why not hold the company that serviced the system responsible, instead of denying Tomas’ claim?”

  “My guess would be because it is easier to deny a claim than to turn around and sue a third party.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me about a barn fire at Jerry Don Peavey’s about four years ago? He sued Omega Insurance when they tried to deny his claim. Something about inflated value.”

  “As you probably know, the claim was eventually paid.”

  “But not to Mr. Peavey. Most of it went to the bank.”

  “I’m afraid that’s beyond the scope of my involvement.”

  “What about a similar claim with William Shanks? I understand Omega had that policy, as well.”

  “William Shanks.” He tried the name out before recognizing it. “Oh, yes, Wanda Shanks. A chimney fire that did quite a bit of smoke damage. Again, the policy was bound by terms of mortgage liens against the property.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “If a property is mortgaged, all reimbursement checks must bear the names of the lien holder as well as the policy holder. Hypothetically speaking, if a person is not current on their loan, the mortgage holder might not sign over the funds in full to the policy holder. I’m not saying this happened in either case, but hypothetically, it could.”

  “How would a policy holder pay for damages if he received only a portion of the reimbursement?”

  “I’m not sure. I suppose there are several alternatives. Shop around for cheaper repair rates, re-build on a smaller scale, take out a second mortgage; those would be my first suggestions. The last resort would be to sue the insurance company. Unfortunately, often the easiest solution is to sell the property and be free of the damage, and the debt, altogether.”

  “I don’t suppose you could disclose the lien holder in either of these cases?” Madison asked hopefully.

  “If you did not find it in a public records search, you won’t find it here.”

  Madison smiled. “I appreciate your professionalism. And I won’t insult you again by asking you to compromise it.” She stood to go. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Here’s the card for the Magnus agent. And this one is for the chief investigator for all the Omega companies. Big ole German fella that goes by the nickname Slim. Truth is, he’s anything but.” Dean chuckled at the irony of the moniker.

  “Do you happen to know where this Slim is based out of?”

  “I think he lives somewhere in the Giddings area.”

  The facts were too coincidental. A+ Fire Systems was based out of Giddings. Their technician was a large German man that went by the name Tiny. Magnus Insurance was located in Giddings. The chief investigator for the company was another large German man called Slim, who was also from the small town of Giddings.

  An idea formed in Madison’s mind. “Dean? Would it be unethical for an insurance adjuster to investigate a company his relative worked for?”
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  “It may not be unethical, technically speaking, although it might fall under suspicion. As long as the relative did not play a role in the incident and was not a deciding factor in the outcome of the investigation, I don’t think there would be a problem.”

  It was worth looking into. Unfortunately, it was too late to do so today. By the time she drove to Giddings, the business offices would be closed.

  That did not mean, however, that her investigation was at a standstill. As Madison saw herself out, she looked up Wanda Shanks’ telephone number.

  ***

  Wanda Shanks was more than willing to speak with Madison. At length.

  Her ears were still ringing the next morning as she and Granny Bert drove to Giddings. With Genesis working back at the restaurant today, Madison reluctantly invited her grandmother along.

  “Remind me to never mention William Shanks’ name again in front of Miss Wanda,” Madison groaned. “She railed against him for hours. I heard more details than anyone should ever have to know about their personal lives.” A shudder ran through her shoulders as she recalled some of the more graphic details.

  “You forget, I’m one of her closest friends. I know most of those details, and I agree. They ain’t pretty.” Even her grandmother winced as a similar shudder echoed through her frame.

  “She is very bitter. Understandably so, but she gets a bit carried away. Between the rants and the stories from the last fifty years, I’m afraid I didn’t get much useful information from her. I can tell you this, though. I will never look at a turkey baster in the same light again.” Another shudder racked her body. “But enough of that. Let’s go over the game plan for today. What’s our cover?”

  “We’re checking out fire suppression systems on Genny’s behalf. She’s too busy to come herself, so being the sweet and loving friends that we are, we agreed to help out.”

  “You’re adlibbing again,” Madison warned.

  Her grandmother shrugged. “Close enough.”

  “Fine, but remember. We’re just asking questions. Be subtle.”