She gave Snapper a sad wifely smile. The look he sent back was murderous. She said, “Tony waited till the eye passed over and the wind died before he went outside. ‘Fore long it started blowing hard all over again, and before Tony could make it back with the dogs, he got hit by a beam off somebody’s roof. Tore up his knee pretty bad.”
Reedy nodded neutrally. “Mister Torres, where did this accident occur?”
“Down the end of the street. Like she said.” Snapper spoke in a dull monotone. He hated answering questions from pencil dicks like Reedy.
“Do you recall the address, Mister Torres?”
“No, man, the rain was a mess.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“I’ll be OK.”
“I think you should go to a doctor.”
Fred Dove said, “I suggested the same thing.”
“Oh, Tony’s stubborn as a mule.” Edie Marsh took Dennis Reedy’s arm. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”
Reedy spent an hour combing through the place. Fred Dove was a jumble of nerves, but Edie stayed cool. Flirting with Reedy was out of the question; she could tell he was an old pro. She steered him away from the hall closet where the crazy geezer with the auger spike was propped, bound and gagged.
Snapper remained sourly camped in front of the television. Edie reminded him that the portable generator was low on gas, but he paid no attention. Donahue was doing a panel on interracial lesbian marriages, and Snapper was riveted in disgust. White chicks eating black chicks! That’s what they seemed to be getting at-and there’s old Phil, acting like everything’s perfectly normal, like he’s interviewing the fucking Osmonds!
After inspecting the property, Dennis Reedy settled in the kitchen to work up the final numbers. His fingers were a blur on the calculator keypad. Fred Dove and Edie Marsh traded anticipatory glances. Reedy scratched some figures on a long sheet of paper and slid it across the counter. Edie scanned it. It was a detailed claims form she hadn’t seen before.
Reedy said, “Mister Dove estimated the loss of contents at sixty-five. That’s a little high, so I’m recommending sixty.” He pointed with the eraser end of his pencil. “That brings the total to two hundred and one thousand. See?”
Edie Marsh was baffled. “Contents?” Then, catching on: “Oh yes, of course.” She felt like a total fool. She’d assumed the estimate for the house included the Torreses’ personal belongings. Fred Dove gave her a sneaky wink.
“One-forty-one for the dwelling,” explained Dennis Reedy, “plus sixty for the contents.”
Edie said, “Well, I guess that’ll have to do.” She did a fine job of acting disappointed.
“And we’d like your husband to sign a release confirming that he will not file a medical claim related to his knee injury. Otherwise the settlement process could become quite complicated. Under the circumstances, you
probably don’t want any delays in receiving your payment.”
“Tony’11 sign,” said Edie. “Let me have it.”
She went to the living room and knelt by the Barca-Lounger. “We’re in great shape,” she whispered, and placed both documents-the liability waiver and the claims agreement-on the armrest. “Remember,” she said, “it’s Torres with an s.”
Snapper barely took his eyes off the television while he forged Tony’s signature. “You believe these perverts?” he said, pointing at Phil’s panel. “Bring me a damn beer.”
Back in the kitchen, Edie Marsh thanked Dennis Reedy for his time. “How long before we get the money?”
“A couple days. You’re at the top of the list.”
“That’s wonderful, Mister Reedy!”
Fred Dove said, “You’ve seen our commercials, Mrs Torres. We’re the fastest in the business.”
Christ, Edie thought, Fred’s really overdoing it. But, with the exception of the chatty cartoon badger, she did recall being impressed by Midwest Casualty’s TV spots. One in particular showed an intrepid company representative delivering claims checks, by rowboat, to Mississippi flood victims.
“I’ve got a laptop at the hotel,” Dennis Reedy was saying. “We file by modem direct to Omaha, every night.”
Edie said, “That’s incredible.” A couple days! But what about that extra sixty grand?
As soon as Reedy went outside, Fred Dove took her in his arms. When he tried to kiss her, she pushed him away and said, “You knew.”