Insurance

        God damn!  I haven’t felt this kind of anticipation
in forever.  I began to tear open the envelope.  It
was like I was in high school again, receiving letters
from colleges, hoping I would get into my first
choice.  Except this time, my first choice was
Allstate Insurance.  This was the moment of truth.
Would I get to move out of my shitty office and get
away from my hard assed boss, Mr. Lewis?  I scanned
through the letter.  A smile crept across my face.  It
seemed like, for the first time in a while, things
were going right.  Then I saw the digital clock on the
new oven we had installed.
       “Fuck!” I exclaimed.  I had forgotten that I had to
pick up Cynthia today. “Shit!”  Knowing her mother,
this would probably be added to her case for full
custody.  I snatched up my keys from the counter and
rushed out the door.
       When I got outside, my heart stopped beating.  Are
you serious? My car was gone...  “Never  mind,”  I
said out loud, remembering I had parked around the
corner.  The divorce really had me jittery.
*******

       “Hi, daddy.”  Cynthia squeezed into the car next to
me.  She was so mature for a four year old-- almost
too mature.  I couldn’t help but blame the constant
arguing between “mommy” and “daddy” for this maturity.
 Hey, at least she wasn’t fucked up in the head.
       “Daddy?”  She looked up at me with her sparkling blue
eyes.
       “Yeah, hun?”
       “Did you get the job?”
       I had completely forgotten.  So god damned mature.
“I sure did.”
       “YAY!”  She reached up and gave me a high five.  So
mature, yet so innocent.  She was the only shining
star in my life.
*******

       Although I had gotten the new job, it wouldn’t begin
until next month, so once again, I drove my eight year
old Camry across town, straight down 1st street, to
the same office I had driven to every week for the
last seven years.  I brought my job letter along in my
back pocket.  Its mere presence worked wonders on my
psyche.
       As soon as I stepped through the elevator doors that
opened to my fourth floor department, I was greeted by
the ugly smile of-- you got it-- Mr. Lewis, my boss.
       “Edward.”
       Other than him, my parents were the only people to
call me by my full name.  I was simply “Ed” to
everyone else.
       “What is it, sir?”  I thought I was in for a
scolding.  But I’m not late.
       “Edward, we just got a call.  Big insurance claim
being made.  Guy says there was a robbery, and a very
costly one at that.”
       “Hmmm.”  I replied.  I felt like Phillip Marlowe, and
Lewis, Lewis was my femme fatale.  Except I could
already see his ugly side.  I couldn’t wait to get out
of this shit hole.
       “As much as I hate to inflate your ego, Edward,
you’re the best claims inspector I’ve got.  I’m gonna
need you to head out there right away.  Here are the
details.”
       He handed me a stack of papers far too big to bother
reading.  My first year on the job I had religiously
read the materials he handed me.  Now they were just
wasted paper.  I got my information from the people I
talked to, the people making the claims.  Paper has
too good a poker face, and my job was to call the
bluff.
*******

       Everything about this guy stood out to me.  He
appeared Greek, maybe Italian--  something Southern
European.  Kostos Caligari.  I could detect a hint of
an accent, but not enough to tell me he was born in
another country.  Maybe he inherited the accent from
his parents.  Yeah, that must be it.
       When I shook his hand I felt calluses, rough hands.
Strange, for an auctioneer of expensive goods.  At
this point, I did something I love to do on these
investigations.  In my mind I directed and produced
this guy’s life story.  I wrote into the script some
sort of manual labor to give him those calluses.  I
visualized his house, his neighborhood growing up, his
parents.  I don’t know why I liked to think about
these people’s pasts.  I guess it made my job
interesting.
       When I left his auctioning house, I was completely
convinced that he was legit.  He was amazingly
friendly and genuine.  There were no holes in his
story.  Some very rich people had given him very
expensive belongings to sell.  Then, last night, a
burglar had broken in, cut his locks with some kind of
fancy saw, and taken all the stuff.  His facts checked
out.  A broken window, cut locks and small shards of
metal.  And he had already dealt with the police. They
had already come and left, already done their police
things, and then I showed up.
       Besides, he had taken my phone number and address so
he could pick up my mom’s old dresser, which he said
he’d auction for me at no charge.  Nice guy.  I’m
gonna let this guy cash in on his claim.  Nice guy.
*******

       Mr. Lewis spotted me as soon as I walked in the door
to the office room.
       “Edward!” he called from across the room.
       I replied in a sarcastic voice.  “Yes, Mr. Lewis?”
The new job I had in my pocket gave me a kind of
insurance that this company would never provide.
       “Well, do you have anything to tell me, Edward?”
       God, I really hate this prick.  “Nothing, boss.
Just, you know, some major insurance fraud, maybe
murder.  You know-- the usual.”  I just really didn’t
care about this job anymore.  My attitude was like
playing in a poker tournament, and betting all my
chips every hand, knowing that win or lose, I would
get the prize money in the end.
       “What!  We need to do something.  I’ll go call the
police.”
       At that point, he spun and began to hurry towards his
office.  God, this would be funny to watch.  Too bad
my new job couldn’t protect me from being arrested.
“Hold on, Mr. Lewis!”
       “What?  What is it?  This is an emergency.”
       “Mr. Lewis, there were no problems.”
       “What do you mean?”  His look of urgency turned into
a scowl.
       “I mean everything checked out.  We gotta just give
him the money.  He was the perfect image of honesty.”
       “Then why did you t...”  Mr. Lewis’s voice trailed
off.
       Wow, this guy is an idiot.
       A few seconds later he realized what had happened.
       “Edward, you’re beginning to play too many games.  I
would be careful if you want to keep your job.”
       I just smiled back at him.  I could feel the ticket
to freedom resting in my back pocket.
*******

                 This morning I reported to my new job at Allstate.
 The difference between new and old struck me like the
difference between heaven and hell.  On the opposite
side of town, this time my office was on the 18th
floor.  Great view.  And this office came with a much
more pleasant boss.  A real beauty.  Ms. Marie Leduc--
and by beautiful, I mean gorgeous, stunning.  Meeting
her made me realize I hadn’t had sex since the
divorce.  Goddamn.
       Anyway, now I’m on my way to my first job.  I
actually read the papers too.  The guy sounds Italian,
Aldo Capitelli.  Some sort of robbery claim.  They
usually are, for me at least.  I think they send their
best inspectors to robbery claims because they are
more often fraudulent than others.  Why would you
crash your car so you could go through the insurance
hassle to get the same car?  You know?
       The papers said the robbery involved jewelry, but it
wasn’t a jewelry store.  Something like a storage
area.  When I arrived, it looked like nothing more
than a warehouse.  I saw a broken security camera and
a neatly cut window.  The industrial neighborhood was
not the kind that would have reliable witnesses late
at night.
       A man came to the door.  He was tall, wide
shouldered, and definitely Italian.
       “Come on in,” he said.
       “You must be Mr. Capitelli.”
       “You got it, mister.  You’re the insurance guy,
right?”
       “How did you know?”  I asked jokingly.
       He laughed.  “Ha ha ha.  I make it my job to know
things, you know.”
       “Yeah, I guess so.”  What did that mean?  Whatever.
       He led me down the entry hall, then unlocked four
locks on the large, oak door at the end.  We passed
through, me first, then him.  After he was through, he
turned around and reset all the locks.
       “Must be safe,” he said.
       On the other side of the room stood a man facing the
other direction, looking through some papers on a
desk.
       Mr. Capitelli gestured to him.  “That is Georgio, my
partner.  He was the one who first discovered the
robbery.”
       The man on the other side of the room turned around
slowly, and the minute I saw his face, my heart
lurched.  I knew this man.  In fact, I had talked to
him the night before.  Talked to him about picking up
my mom’s dresser for auction.
       “Kostos?”
       It took him a second to react, but he caught on
pretty quick.
       “Shit!  Get him!” he yelled.  His voice now sounded
Italian, like Mr. Capitelli’s.
       Honest my ass.
       I knew the hit was coming.  It was one of those slow
motion moments.  So, these guys were making the rounds
of the big insurance companies, swindling them for
large sums of money.  You know, maybe it would be
profitable to help them out a little.  Too bad it’s
too late.  I could hear the swooosh of an object in
the air behind me.  There was very little pain when it
struck my skull, just emptiness.  Everything went
white.  Then black, calm and black...
*******

       Then gray.  With the gray came a distant sound, men’s
voices.  I wondered how long I was out.  Actually, I
guess I wondered how long I had left.  I tried to make
out the men’s words.  Kostos’s words.  And I thought
he was nice.  It was just dumb luck I had switched
jobs and figured them out.  Wow.  Sometimes, luck
hurts.
       “I thought...   ... use different... ...ompanies.”
       “...  did.  He must h...   ...itched jobs.  New
employer.”  The words were broken, fractured by my own
consciousness.
       “Fuck!”
       “Don’t worry.”  The words were getting clearer.  I
was almost scared to come to.  What would they do to
me?
       “I have his address.  We could...”
       “... Let’s take him to...”
       “Sounds goo...”
       I was moving.  Being carried.  A car door slammed.
Then I hit the ground again, softer this time.
Grass-- leaves maybe.
*******

       When I finally woke up all the way, my head hurt.
Badly.  All I could think about in the beginning was
the bump.  To me it felt as big as a a fist.  Owww.
       After I got over the size of the bump, I turned to a
more pressing issue.  Where the fuck was I?  The
Philip Marlowe of Allstate insurance.  It only took a
few seconds for me to realize exactly where I was.
Graton Park.  They had dropped me less than a mile
from my house.  Thanks, guys.

       I walked slowly down First Street, towards home.  It
reminded me of returning home from my old job, same
street, same direction, same headache.  I couldn’t
wait to get home to Cynthia.  I knew she was getting
dropped off by her mom.  After that I would call the
police, tell them what I’d seen today.  Maybe I’d
drive down to the station.
       “Aww, crap.”  I remembered my car was still out by
the “jewel storage” place.  How would I take Cynthia
to school tomorrow?  I guess I would figure something
out.  Just get home, Ed.  Take a bath, a bubble bath.
       Pretty soon I was on our block.  I could see our
house down the street.  Small, but not too small.  I
quickened my pace, gave it that little extra oomph
right before the finish line.  Bubble bath.
       Is that Cynthia’s mom’s car out front?  Strange.  I
touched the bump on my head again.  What would she
think?  What did I care?
       I walked up the front walk, past the yellowing lawn
and the solar powered lights that kids had stolen the
year before in an attempt to make electric
skateboards.  I looked up at the house and thought it
didn’t feel quite right.  I stopped, took a few steps
backward so I could get a wider view.
       I saw it then, nothing major, but noticeable to me.
Above the door, me and Cynthia used to have a wooden
“welcome sign,” a couple feet long and very vintage.
It wasn’t there.  Maybe her mom moved it.  I also saw
that our door mat was pushed to the side.  I knew that
our spare key was kept there, maybe they used it to
get in.  I didn’t see anything else unusual so I
unlocked the door with my own key, and stepped in to
the house.
       Then I saw something unusual.  How often do you walk
into your house and find your ex-wife’s dead body in
the front hall, with a bloody wooden welcome sign next
to her?
         I felt chills run down my spine.  Things went white
again, like when I was hit earlier. This time I
managed to retain my consciousness.  I was struggling
to hold onto my sanity, though.
       I tried to jump over the body, but in my dazed state,
my back foot nicked her chest.  I toppled and found
myself on the floor next to her.  I had this been
simply a dream, I might have been laughing at my ex’s
current situation, but in vivid reality, it was
horrifying.  I scurried towards the back of the house,
towards Cynthia’s room.
       I poked my head through the door.  No one.  I walked
to her bed, to the manilla envelope resting on her
pillow.  I pulled out the paper first, but took note
in my mind of the added weight in the envelope.

Edward, if you know whats
good for you and her,
dont say shit to no one
about our little operation.
You got it?  I hope so,
for her sake.
-Kostos
(not my real name, by the way)

       I began to cry.
       I turned over the envelope, and onto her clean white
sheets fell two dainty pinky fingers.
       Ten minutes later the cops were here.
*******

       I had worked at Allstate for a long time now.  That
first day on the job was the worst of my life, and
memories of little Cynthia, mature yet innocent, still
stayed with me.
       But that was years ago.  I had never been remarried,
never even had any long relationships.  Yeah, I fucked
Ms. Leduc, but even that wasn’t as satisfying as I had
hoped.  I truly feel that I got more pleasure picking
Cynthia up from school.
       I was in the home stretch now, a month away from
retirement.  Knowing that this would be one of my last
investigations, I had read all the paperwork.  In
fact, it was the name of the guy’s wife that had
turned my minds to my little girl.  Her name was, of
course, Cynthia.

       “Hey, there.  You must be George?”
       “Sure am.  And you’re from the insurance company?”
He seemed nice.  Italian, probably.  I thought about
his past, maybe growing up in his parents apartment
above the pizza parlor.  No, thats racist.  I smiled.
       “Yes, sir.  Allstate all the way.”
       George turned around and called back into the house.
“Honey, come meet the insurance guy.”
       I was here to investigate a robbery of her very
expensive jewelry collection.  She walked up
gracefully and put a hand on her husbands broad
shoulder.
       I noticed what was missing right away, but I decided
to keep it to myself.