Sara Paretsky - Indemnity Only

Tim had brought the ice cream, which was sinfully delicious. I scraped the last drops out of the bottom of my dish. “ I found a claim draft lying around an apartment the other day. It was an Ajax draft, a carbon of one. I wondered if it was a real one.”

“You did?” Ralph was surprised. “Where did you find it? In your apartment?”

“No. Actually, in young Thayer’s place.”

“Do you have it? I’d like to see it.”

I picked my bag up from the floor and got the paper out of the zippered side compartment and handed it to Ralph. He studied it intently. Finally he said, “This looks like one of ours all right. I wonder what the boy was doing with that on him. No claim files are supposed to go home with you.”

He folded it and put it in his wallet. “This should go back to the office.”

I wasn’t surprised, just pleased I’d had the forethought to make Xeroxes of it. “Do you know the claimant?” I asked.

He pulled out the paper again and looked at the name. “No, I can’t even pronounce it. But it’s the maximum indemnity payment for this state, so he must be on a total disability case-either temporary or permanent. That means there should be a pretty comprehensive file on him. How did it get so greasy?”

“Oh, it was lying on the floor,” I said vaguely.

When Tim brought the check, I insisted on splitting it with Ralph. “Too many dinners like this and you’ll have to give up either your alimony or your apartment.”

He finally let me pay my part of the bill. “By the way, before they kick me out for not paying the rent, would you like to see my place?”

I laughed. “Sure, Ralph. I’d love to.”

The Mark of Zav

Ralph’s alarm went off at 6:30; I cracked my eyes briefly to look at the clock and then buried my head under the pillows. Ralph tried burrowing in after me, but I kept the covers pulled around my ears and fought him off successfully. The skirmish woke me up more thoroughly. I sat up. “Why so early? Do you have to be at the office at seven thirty?”

“This isn’t early to me, baby: when I lived in Downers Grove I had to get up at five forty-five every day-this is luxury. Besides, I like morning-best time of the day.”

I groaned and lay down again. “Yeah, I’ve often said God must have loved mornings, he made so many of them. How about bringing me some coffee?”

He got out of bed and flexed his muscles. “Sure thing, Miss Warshawski, ma’am. Service with a smile.”

I had to laugh. “If you’re going to be so full of pep this early in the day, I think I’ll head back north for breakfast.” I swung my legs out of bed. It was now the fourth morning since my encounter with Earl and his boys, and I scarcely felt a twinge. Clearly, exercising paid off. I’d better get at it again-it would be easy to get out of the habit on the excuse that I was an invalid.

“I can feed you,” Ralph said. “Not lavishly, but I’ve got toast.”

“Tell you the truth, I want to go running this morning before I eat. I haven’t been out for five days, and it’s easy to go downhill if you don’t keep it up. Besides, I have a teen-age guest at Lotty’s, and I ought to go see how she’s doing.”

“Just as long as you aren’t importing teen-age boys for some weird orgy or other, I don’t mind. How about coming back here tonight?”

“Mmm, maybe not. I’ve got to go to a meeting tonight, and I want to spend some time with Lotty and my friend.” I was still bothered by Ralph’s persistence. Did he want to keep tabs on me, or was he a lonely guy going after the first woman he’d met who turned him on? If Masters were involved in the deaths of John and Peter Thayer, it wasn’t impossible that his assistant, who had worked for him for three years, was involved as well.

“You get to work early every morning?” I asked.

“Unless I’m sick.”

“Last Monday morning, too?” I asked.

He looked at me, puzzled. “I suppose. Why do you ask-Oh. When Peter was shot. No, I forgot: I wasn’t in early that morning. I went down to Thayer’s apartment and held him down while Yardley shot him.”

“Yardley get in on time that morning?” I persisted.

“I’m not his goddamn secretary!” Ralph snapped. “He doesn’t always show up at the same time-he has breakfast meetings and crap-and I don’t sit with a stopwatch waiting for him to arrive.”

“Okay, okay. Take it easy. I know you think Masters is purity personified. But if he were doing something illegal, wouldn’t he call on you, his trusty henchman, for help? You wouldn’t want him relying on someone else, someone less able than you, would you?”

His face relaxed and he gave a snort of laughter. “You’re outrageous. If you were a man, you couldn’t get away with crap like that.”

“If I were a man, I wouldn’t be lying here,” I pointed out. I held out an arm and pulled him back down into the bed, but I still wondered what he’d been doing Monday morning.

Ralph went off to shower, whistling slightly. I pulled the curtains back to look outside. The air had a faint yellow tinge. Even this early in the morning the city looked slightly baked. The break in the weather was over; we were in for another hot, polluted spell.

I showered and dressed and joined Ralph at the table for a cup of coffee. His apartment included one large room with a half wall making a partially private eating area. The kitchen must have once been a closet: stove, sink, and refrigerator were stacked neatly, allowing room to stand and work, but not enough space even for a chair. It wasn’t a bad-looking place. A large couch faced the front entrance, and a heavy arm-chair stood pulled back from the windows at right angles to it. I’d read somewhere that people who lived in rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows keep the furniture pulled back away from them-some illusion of falling if you’re right up against the glass. A good two feet lay between the chair back and the lightly curtained windows. All the upholstery and the curtains were in the same light floral pattern. Nice for a prefurnished place.

At 7:30 Ralph stood up. “I hear those claims calling me,” he explained. “I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow, Vic.”

“Fine,” I said. We rode down in the elevator in amiable silence. Ralph walked me to my car, which I’d had to park near Lake Shore Drive. “Want a ride downtown?” I asked. He declined, saying he got his exercise walking the mile and a half to Ajax each day.

As I drove off, I could see him moving down the street in my rearview mirror, a jaunty figure despite the close air.

It was only eight when I got back to Lotty’s. She was having toast and coffee in the kitchen. Jill, her oval face alive and expressive, was talking animatedly, a half-drunk glass of milk in front of her. Her innocent good spirits made me feel old and decadent. I made a face at myself.

“Good morning, ladies. It’s a stinker outside.”

“Good morning, Vic,” said Lotty, her face amused. “What a pity you had to work all night.”

I gave her a playful punch on the shoulder. Jill asked, “Were you really working all night?” in a serious, worried voice.

“No, and Lotty knows it. I spent the night at a friend’s place after doing a little work. You have a pleasant evening? How were the enchiladas?”

“Oh, they were great!” Jill said enthusiastically. “Did you know that Carol has been cooking since she was seven?” She giggled. “I don’t know how to do one useful thing, like ironing or even making scrambled eggs. Carol says I’d better marry someone with lots of money.”