It turned out to be Marvin, who bleated, “I’m in real trouble, Pat. I’m probably going to lose my job over that policy I made out for your friend David.”
Pat said how sorry he was, but felt there was nothing he could do to help.
“Yes, there is,” insisted Marvin. “For a start, you could take out a policy yourself. That might just save my skin.”
“I don’t think that would be wise,” said Pat, wondering what David would have advised.
“Surely David wouldn’t have wanted to see me fired,” Marvin pleaded. “Have mercy on me, my friend. I just can’t afford another divorce.”
“How much would it cost me?” asked Pat, desperate to find some way of getting Marvin off the line.
“You’re going to get a million dollars in cash,” Marvin almost shouted, “and you’re asking me what it’s going to cost? What’s a thousand dollars a month to someone as rich as you?”
“But I can’t be sure that I am going to get the million,” Pat protested.
“That’s all been settled,” Marvin told him, his voice falling by several decibels. “I’m not meant to let you know this, but you’ll be receiving the cheque on the thirtieth of the month. The company know that your lawyer’s got them by the balls… You wouldn’t even have to make the first payment until after you’d received the million.”
“All right,” said Pat, desperate to be rid of him. “I’ll do it, but not until I’ve received the cheque.”
“Thank you, my friend. I’ll drop round with the paperwork tomorrow night.”
“No, that’s not possible,” said Pat. “l’m working nights this month. You’d better make it tomorrow afternoon.”
“You won’t be working nights once you’ve received that cheque, my friend,” said Marvin, letting out one of his dreadful shrill laughs. “Lucky man,” he added before he put the phone down.
By the time Marvin came round to the apartment the following afternoon, Pat was already having second thoughts. If he had to visit Dr Royston again, they would immediately realise the truth.
But once Marvin had assured him that the medical could be with any doctor of his choice, and that the first payment would be post-dated, he caved in and signed all the forms between the pencilled crosses, making Ruth his sole beneficiary. He hoped David would have approved of that decision, at least.
“Thank you, my friend. I won’t be bothering you again,” promised Marvin. His final words as he closed the door behind him were, “I promise you, you’ll never live to regret it.”
Pat saw his doctor a week later. The examination didn’t take long, as Pat had recently had a complete check-up. On that occasion, as the doctor recalled, Pat had appeared quite nervous, and couldn’t hide his relief when he’d phoned to give him the all-clear. “Not much wrong with you, Patrick,” he said, “apart from the asthma, which doesn’t seem to be getting any worse.”
Marvin called a week later to let Pat know that the doctor had given him a clean bill of health, and that he had held on to his job with Geneva Life.
“I’m pleased for you,” said Pat. “But what about my cheque?”
“It will be paid out on the last day of the month. Only a matter of processing it now. Should be with you twenty-four hours before the first payment is due on your policy. Just like I said, you win both ways.”
Pat rang David’s lawyer on the last day of the month to ask if he had received the cheque from Geneva Life.
“There was nothing in this morning’s post,” Levy told him, “but I’ll phone the other side right now, in case it’s already been issued and is on its way. If not, I’ll start proceedings against them immediately.”
Pat wondered if he should tell Levy that he had signed a cheque for $1100 which was due to be cleared the following day, and that he only just had sufficient funds in his account to cover it certainly not enough to see him through until his next pay packet.
All his surplus cash had gone to help with David’s monthly payments to Geneva Life. He decided not to mention it. David had repeatedly told him that if he was in any doubt, he should say nothing.
“I’ll phone you at close of business tonight and let you know exactly what the position is,” said Levy.
“No, that won’t be possible,” said Pat. “I’m on night duty all this week. In fact I have to leave for work right now. Perhaps you could call me first thing tomorrow morning?”
“Will do,” promised the lawyer.
When Pat returned home from work in the early hours, he couldn’t get to sleep. He tossed and turned, worrying how he would survive for the rest of the month if his cheque was presented to the bank that morning, and he still hadn’t received the million dollars from Geneva Life.
His phone rang at 9.31. Pat grabbed it, and was relieved to hear Mr Levy’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Patrick, I had a call from Geneva Life yesterday evening while you were at work, and I must tell you that you’ve broken Levy’s golden rule.”
“Levy’s golden rule?” asked Pat, mystified.
“Yes, Levy’s golden rule. It’s quite simple really, Patrick. By all means drop anything you like, on anyone you like, but don’t
“I don’t understand,” said Pat.
“Your doctor has supplied Geneva Life with a sample of your blood and urine, and they just happen to be identical to the ones Dr Royston has in his laboratory in the name of David Kravits.”
Pat felt the blood draining from his head as he realised the trick Marvin must have played on him. His heart began beating faster and faster. Suddenly his legs gave way, and he collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.
“Did you hear me, Patrick?” asked Levy. “Are you still there?”
A paramedic team broke into the apartment twenty minutes later, but, moments before they reached him, Pat had died of a heart attack brought on by a suffocating bout of asthma.
Mr Levy did nothing until he was able to confirm with Pat’s bankers that his client’s cheque for $1100 had been cleared by the insurance company.
Nineteen months later Pat’s sister Ruth received a payment of one million dollars from Geneva Life, but not until they had gone through a lengthy court battle with Levy, Goldberg and Levy.
The jury finally accepted that Pat had died of natural causes, and that the insurance policy was in existence at the time of his death.
I promise you, Marvin Roebuck lived to regret it.
Never Stop on the Motorway*
Diana had been hoping to get away by five, so she could be at the farm in time for dinner. She tried not to show her true feelings when at 4.37 her deputy, Phil Haskins, presented her with a complex twelve-page document that required the signature of a director before it could be sent out to the client.
Haskins didn’t hesitate to remind her that they had lost two similar contracts that week.
It was always the same on a Friday. The phones would go quiet in the middle of the afternoon and then, just as she thought she could slip away, an authorisation would land on her desk. One glance at this particular document and Diana knew there would be no chance of escaping before six.
The demands of being a single parent as well as a director of a small but thriving City company meant there were few moments left in any day to relax, so when it came to the one weekend in four that James and Caroline spent with her ex-husband, Diana would try to leave the office a little earlier than usual to avoid getting snarled up in the weekend traffic.
She read through the first page slowly and made a couple of emendations, aware that any mistake made hastily on a Friday night could be regretted in the weeks to come. She glanced at the clock on her desk as she signed the final page of the document.
It was just flicking over to 5.52.
Diana gathered up her bag and walked purposefully towards the door, dropping the contract on Phil’s desk without bothering to suggest that he have a good weekend. She suspected that the paperwork had been on his desk since nine o’clock that morning, but that holding it until 4.37 was his only means of revenge now that she had been made head of department. Once she was safely in the lift, she pressed the button for the basement carpark,
