James Chase - Tell It to the Birds

Twenty minutes later, Maddox made a gesture of disgust and reached for another cigarette.

“Okay, so well have to pay up! Forty thousand dollars! You salesmen kill me! Couldn’t you have seen this jerk was an alcoholic? All you think about is your commission! If you had a grain of insight, we’d be forty thousand dollars in pocket!”

“It’s my job to sell insurance,” Anson said sharply. “You don’t have to beef to me. If you have any complaint take it up with Doc Stevens. He okayed Vodex. If you don’t like the way I sell insurance you’d better talk to Mr. Burrows.”

Burrows was the President of the National Fidelity, the only man who could talk back to Maddox.

Maddox lit another cigarette.

“Okay, okay,” he said, waving his stubby hands. “Don’t get your shirt out. But this kills me! Forty thousand dollars!

What’s the matter with Stevens? Doesn’t he know a drunk when he sees one?”

“Vodex wasn’t a drunk!” Anson said patiently. “He happened to be drunk on the night of the crash. He hasn’t been drunk in years.”

Maddox shrugged and suddenly relaxed. His red, rubbery face contorted into a sour grin.

“Well, let’s forget it. How’s business Anson? How are you doing?”

Knowing his man, Anson wasn’t fooled. Cautiously he said, “It’s all right. This is a bad month. I have a number of prospects lined up once they have paid their rents and bills.”

“You’re not doing so bad,” Maddox said and dived into a mass of papers on his desk. He came up with a policy which he studied, then looked at Anson with a sudden cold penetrating stare.

“What’s this? This guy Barlowe? You hooked him for fifty thousand dollars?”

Anson’s face was expressionless as he said, “Oh Barlowe… yes, that was a lucky one. He sent in a coupon inquiry and I nailed him.”

“Fifty thousand, huh?” Maddox stared at the policy, then dropped it on his desk. “Who is Barlowe?”

“Probably one of the best gardeners I’ve ever come across,” Anson said. “He works in the horticultural department of Framleys’ stores. I don’t know if you are interested in gardening, but he has the finest small garden I’ve eVer seen.”

“I’m not interested in anything except the work that lies under my nose and the pen I hold in my hand,” Maddox misquoted sourly. “So this guy works at Framley’s stores, does he? How come he can afford a policy this size?”

“He wants to use it to raise capital to buy himself a business,” Anson said. “After a couple of years, he’ll ask us to pay the premiums out of the policy.”

“Nice for him,” Maddox said scowling. “In the meantime if he happens to drop dead, we’re in the hole for fifty thousand bucks.”

“Stevens rates him as a first class life.”

“That quack! He can’t even recognize a drunk when he sees one!”

Anson didn’t say anything. He watched Maddox light yet another cigarette.

“The beneficiary is Mrs. Barlowe… that his wife?”

“Yes.” Anson felt his heart give a little kick against his side.

“What’s she like?” Maddox asked, staring at Anson.

“You mean what does she look like?” Anson asked, his voice casual, his expression inquiring.

“Yeah… I like to have a picture of people in my mind,” Maddox said. “When I get a policy for this amount come out of the blue and I learn the insured is just a counter clerk, I get interested. What’s she like?”

“Attractive, around twenty-seven. I didn’t talk to her much. I talked to Barlowe. I got the impression they were happy together,” Anson said carefully.

Maddox picked up the policy and stared at it.

“How come this guy pays the first premium in cash?” he asked.

“He wanted it that way. He keeps money in his house. Anything wrong about it?”

Maddox grimaced.

“I don’t know. Twelve hundred is a lot of dough to keep in your house. Hasn’t he a banking account?”

“I guess so. I didn’t ask him.”

Maddox blew a stream of tobacco smoke down his thick nostrils. His red rubbery face was screwed up in an expression of thought.

“So he wants to use this policy to raise capital… that it?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“To set up as a gardener?”

“Well, more than that… to buy land, greenhouses, machines and so on.”

“How much capital does he want?”

Anson shrugged.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. He said he wanted to insure his life and he told me why. I didn’t argue with him.”

“That’s right,” Maddox said and put the policy down on his desk, “So long as you make a sale, you don’t have to worry, do you?”

“It’s my job to make a sale,” Anson said quietly. “That’s what / get paid for.” He stood up. “Is there anything else?”

“No, I guess that’s about it,” Maddox said, without looking at Anson.

“Then I’ll get back. Will see you.”

Maddox nodded absently. He still didn’t look at Anson. He was staring at the Barlowe policy. He was still staring at it, lost in thought, several minutes after Anson had gone. Then, suddenly coming to life, he flicked down a key on the intercom and said, “Harmas around?”

“Yes, Mr. Maddox,” Patty said. “I’ll call him.”

Three minutes later, Steve Harmas, Maddox’s chief investigator, wandered in. He was a tall broad-shouldered man; dark around thirty-three with a deeply tanned ugly but humorous face. He had married Maddox’s favourite secretary, something that Maddox had never got over, but as Harmas was by far his best investigator, Maddox had been forced to accept the fact.

“You wanted me?” Harmas asked as he folded his long lean body into the client’s chair.

Maddox tossed him the Barlowe policy.

“Look at that,” he said, then spilling ash over his papers he selected yet another policy and began to examine it suspiciously.

Harmas looked through the policy handed to him, then he put it on the desk.

“Nice work,” he said. “Anson is a smart cookie.”

Maddox bent his chair back until it creaked under the weight of his massive shoulders.

“I’m not so sure he is so smart,” he said. “Take this policy. Barlowe is a ten-a-dime salesman at Framley’s stores, Pru Town. What’s he doing taking out a life policy for fifty thousand dollars?”

Harmas shrugged.

“I don’t know…. you tell me.”

“I’d like to,” Maddox said. “If Barlowe suddenly drops dead, we’re in the hole for fifty thousand bucks. The story is he has taken out this policy so he can raise enough capital to set up as a gardener. What would he want fifty thousand for to set up as a gardener?”

Harmas scratched the back of his neck. He knew Maddox. He knew Maddox wasn’t asking for information. He was talking to himself.

“Go ahead… I’m here to listen,” he said.

“That’s about all you’re good for,” Maddox said bitterly. “I have hunches. I don’t like this policy. I have a hunch about it.

It gives off a smell.”

Harmas grinned.

“Is there any policy that comes to you that doesn’t give off a smell?”

“A few do… but not many. Here’s what you do. I want to know everything there is to know about Barlowe and his wife: repeat his wife. Get a Tracing Agency on to them and have them send everything they can dig up direct to me.

Understand?”

“Okay,” Harmas said, getting to his feet. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

“Why didn’t this guy take out a five thousand dollar insurance?” Maddox asked. “Why fifty thousand? Why did he pay the first premium in cash?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Harmas said, “but if you’re all that interested, I guess, I’ll have to find out.”