Ричард Деминг - The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK®

The doctor puffed at his pipe and gazed at me through the smoke. “I forgot about Paul. Of course he’d know.”

I grinned at him. “You’re going to fight until you’re counted out, are you, Doctor? I’ve been back to the courthouse since I last saw you. You did a remarkable job on the records. It’s a matter of legal record that Paul Manners and his wife were both born, grew up and married. All five of those typhoid cases have their lives carefully recorded too. On paper they were all born, grew up, married and died. Except for young Herman Potter, of course. He was just born, grew to eighteen and died.”

The doctor hiked his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“I just came from Boggs’s Funeral Home. He remembers conducting a funeral for Herman Potter, but he never heard of the other four typhoid victims.”

Dr. Parks pursed his lips.

“Furthermore, neither Emma Pruett, Sheriff Gaines nor Gerard Boggs ever heard of Paul Manners, which is a little odd considering he’s the only insurance broker in the county, was born here and lived here all his life. Sheriff says you’ve been selling insurance.”

“Hmm,” the doctor said.

“It was quite clever of you to take me to see Mr. Potter. Herman Potter actually did die from typhoid, didn’t he? I suppose that’s what gave you the idea for the others. You created your own little typhoid epidemic by insuring, and later killing off, people who never existed except on paper.”

Dr. Parks’ pipe had gone out. He relit it and puffed it slowly.

“Why did you risk taking me to see Potter, Doctor? I was ready to leave town. You must have sweated it all the time we were there, hoping I wouldn’t mention Paul Manners. And later, at the coffee shop, you must have sweated even harder.”

He took his pipe from his mouth and regarded me with rueful sadness. “Impulse, Mr. Quinn. I hadn’t thought it through. It seemed wise at the time to lull your suspicions completely, in case future claim payments in this area later came to your attention. The danger of your mentioning Paul Manners to Potter simply didn’t occur to me until after I had extended the invitation. Inviting you to lunch was another mistake. I really didn’t want to, but unfortunately I’m innately courteous, and I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

I studied him with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “This is the most brilliant insurance fraud I’ve ever run into, Doctor. You rightly guessed that insurance companies wouldn’t be suspicious of claims where the doctor who originally examined the applicant also signed the death certificate, particularly from a community this small. But you knew they would never stomach the doctor also being the man who sold the policy. You created a Paul Manners on paper, boned up to pass the state insurance exam and took it in his name. As postmaster you catch every bit of mail coming into Heather Ridge. When letters addressed to the people the fake Manners had given as references came from the state licensing bureau, they were never delivered. You simply forged answers and sent back glowing recommendations. In two cases, that is. You had also given yourself as a reference, so you didn’t have to forge that answer. In the same way, you caught the claim payment checks mailed to the mythical beneficiaries of the four mythical decedents. How many of the other policies you’ve written are on mythical people?”

“About half,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve actually sold only eleven. Up until now the others are rather a financial burden. I’ve been planning to record a few more deaths.”

“Why did you do it?” I asked. “A doctor shouldn’t be that hard up for money.”

He snorted. “In this area the doctor gets paid in eggs and chickens and other produce. Up until now I’ve really needed my salary as postmaster and the fees from my various county jobs. Besides, I wanted to build my clinic.”

After a pause, he added candidly, “A little greed entered into it too. I’ve set aside only half the money, so far, for the clinic. I’ve earmarked the rest for the traveling I’ve always wanted to do. I don’t suppose you’re open for bribery?”

I examined him for some time, and silence built between us. Finally I said softly, “Try me.”

“Hmm,” he said. “How much?”

“Let’s consider the service I can render, in addition to merely keeping my mouth shut, before we arrive at a figure,” I said. “If I go back and give Paul Manners a clean bill of health, it’s extremely unlikely you would ever be caught again. Even if something roused the association’s suspicion again, almost certainly I would be the investigator sent, since I’m already in on the ground floor.”

He gave me his most charming smile. “Your readiness to be bribed leads me to suspect you’re thinking of your expensive young lady. It won’t solve your problem, of course, because no matter how much you earn, she’ll always want more. That’s your affair, however. How much?”

“Fifty-fifty, including the forty thousand you’ve already taken.”

He pursed his lips. “I’ve earmarked twenty-five thousand of that for the clinic. Also the premiums on my fictional policy holders are quite a drain, and I don’t feel expenses should come all from my share. There’s only about ten thousand left to divide.”

“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll settle for five thousand now and fifty percent of all future take, less premium costs. That suit you?”

“It’s considerably better than going to jail,” he said with a smile.

I rose and held out my hand, palm up. “Now if I may have my first five-thousand-dollar fee, I’ll be on my way. I’ll be in correspondence with you.”

Parks got the cash from the bedroom, and we parted cordially a few minutes later, me with five thousand dollars in my pocket and considerably richer future prospects.

Originally published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine , March 1967.

They could hear the car coming long before its headlights would appear around the curve circling Indian Butte, because the clear desert air carried sound a remarkable distance. By the sound, it was traveling along the narrow gravel road at an unsafe speed.

“Must be city folk,” old Ed Jolly said to his wife. “Be here in ten minutes at the speed they’re going, if they don’t hit one of them potholes in the road. If they do, might not get here at all.”

His head cocked for listening, he preoccupiedly lifted four apples from a box lying on the counter on the grocery side of the combination General Store, snack bar, and tavern, and began expertly juggling them. He was still lean and erect despite his 75 years, and his hands were almost as supple as they had been 30 years ago.

Mary Jolly, only a few months younger than her husband, was also in excellent health for her age. Her body had thinned out and lost its once lissome figure, but there was still a twinkle in her eye and the vestiges of a spring in her step.

Standing several feet away, she eyed the arcing apples as they circled in the air from one hand to the other. Suddenly she raised her left hand and chanted, “A-one and a-two and away and go!”

Grinning, Ed continued to toss and catch the apples until the last word of the incantation; then they suddenly sped toward his wife in such a rapid stream that two were in the air all the time. Expertly plucking each apple from the air as it reached her and tossing it upward, she started juggling them. When Ed raised his hand, they streamed back to him. He juggled them twice, then caught them and dropped them back into the box.

“We could still wow them if there was any vaudeville left,” he said. “I better get outside.”