Act of God

headquartered in Omaha , but it had a claims investigation office in Hartford . Rather than drive the eighty miles, I got on the phone and drew a semblance of a human being named Nichols.
    After outlining to him my involvement, I said, “When I used to work at Empire, we’d keep files ten years.”
    A laugh. “You were at Empire?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Get laid off when they folded things up in Boston ?”
    “No. I left a while before that.”
    “Huh. You’re lucky. You bailed out before there was a lotta guys looking to open their own shops. How do you like it?”
    “There’s not much security, but the pay’s fine when it arrives, and you come to enjoy being your own boss.”
    “Hey, I’m my own boss now, in charge of the department, anyway, and it’s not so hot. What do you get for a daily rate up there?”
    “Depends on whether it’s commercial or personal.”
    “Give me a range.”
    I did.
    Nichols said, “Be lucky to get anywhere near that down here for either kind of work. Well, let’s see now, what can I do for you?”
    “Can you access your closed files, give me the name of whoever it was investigated a claim out of Quincy for you?”
    “When was the claim?”
    “Five or six years ago.”
    “Did we pay off on it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Before or after litigation?”
    “Nobody’s said anything about a lawsuit.”
    “Then you’re fuck out of luck, pal.”
    “How come?”
    “Maybe—I don’t know—three years ago, company decided to shred everything was closed over three years without litigation.”
    “You weren’t computerized then?”
    “On the policies, yeah, but not on the investigations. See, they figured, none of our work’s ever admissible in court anyway, so why keep the stuff or pay for it to go on microfiche.”
    “Accounting must have a record of your paying off on the policy.”
    “Yeah, they would. But it’s not gonna have any details like who investigated. Just a claim number and the policy number and probably a picture of the cancelled check.”
    “And you couldn’t access the claim by the claim number?”
    “No,” said Nichols. “Not until three years back, when we—when Claims Investigation—went on-line, too.”
    “Any suggestions on who might have been assigned to this one?”
    “Why, because of where it came from, you mean?”
    “Right.”
    “Hell, no. Our adjusters and investigators, they turn over every couple of years. Half of them don’t like the work, another quarter really wanna be lawyers and leave us for school. Only mules like me stay on long enough to be Head of Claims Investigation for a region.”
    Which is what I’d done at Empire. “Well, listen. Thanks anyway.”
    “Sorry I can’t help you out.”
    “There’s maybe something else you could check.”
    “What’s that?”
    “I’d like to know the status on a couple of current policies.”
    “These life policies, too?”
    “Yes.”
    Nichols went a little sly on me. “There wouldn’t happen to be any... uh, relationship between the claim we paid out on and these current ones, would there?”
    “Might be.”
    “Any chance this relationship could maybe get us a shot at recovering what we paid on the first one?”
    “To be honest, I doubt it.”
    Nichols didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Give me the names of the insureds.”
    I did.
    “I gotta tap these into my terminal here. Omaha ’s not bogged down, I can probably have the status in like a minute.”
    “I appreciate it.”
    About forty seconds later, Nichols said, “Insured: Proft, Darbra, policy number—you want all this shit?”
    “Just whether they’re paid up currently.”
    “Yeah, Proft, Darbra and Proft, William. Both current. Premiums billed quarterly to Nugent, Darlene. Want Nugent’s address?”
    “Got it already. Beneficiaries?”
    “Just crossovers. Darbra if William goes, him if she does.”
    “Nothing for the aunt?”
    “The who?”
    “Nothing for Darlene Nugent if either Darbra or William dies?”
    “No. But we’re just one company here.”
    “What?”
    “We’re just one company. Look in the Yellow Pages, there’s plenty of other places she could buy insurance on a relative’s life.”
    A good point, but hard to check. “Thanks, Nichols.”
    “Hey, don’t mention it. I ever decide to go out on my own, I’ll give you a call.”
    “Fine.”
    “And Cuddy?”
    “Yes?”
    “Looks like maybe the, uh, family relationship gives us an angle, let me know, huh?”
    “I’ll