“However, Earl did send them a notice that detailed the change in the policy. They claimed they never received it, but that’s not our fault.”
“I understand.” I didn’t actually, but continued. “Mrs. Weinberger stated that it took six months to produce that document, which she claims they’d never received.”
Mr. Jenkins blanched. “I’m sure it wasn’t six months,” he spluttered. “But like I said, Earl wasn’t very organized, so it may have taken longer than what she thought was a reasonable amount of time.”
Even if that was the truth, which I doubted based on Russell’s outward reaction, it still seemed impossible for them not to know. And if they honestly didn’t catch that, how did they manage to stay in business?
Something as basic as a change in the premium is standard stuff in the insurance industry. And from what I’d learned about Earl, I didn’t think he was incompetent. Rather, I thought he might have been clever. Just not clever enough, as it appeared his shady activities eventually got him killed.
“I’m sure you’re probably right,” I placated, wanting him to think I was believing his line of bull. “Even so, I’m having a difficult time wrapping my brain around how Earl could not have known the Weinbergers were paying the wrong amount and that the policy had lapsed.”
I made a point to keep the focus on Earl, not Russell. “Isn’t that part of the job? To keep track of the premiums, and ensure they’re paid on time and for the right amount?”
“Yes, it is. I think that between Earl’s disorganization and being overly busy that it got overlooked. It was an honest mistake.” Russell defended his former partner, adding a little remorse for extra measure.
“For two years?” I pressed further.
“I’m not aware of the particulars,” he said. “This happened around when Earl was considering retirement, and I think the lawsuit is what ultimately spurred him into selling his share of the business. He’d been doing this a long time and the stress had gotten to him. He was struggling to keep up with everything.”
“He was incompetent,” I implied.
“Oh no, nothing like that.” He shook his head quickly. “It was just an unfortunate mistake.”
I didn’t buy it.
“It’s understandable why she would be upset, and I don’t blame her,” he continued. “But it wasn’t my fault either,” he felt inclined to add.
“She seemed pretty upset when I spoke with her.” I waited to gauge his reaction.
His eyebrow lifted. “Really?” His face registered surprise for a moment. “Well, it was a lot of money, and some people are bitter and like to hold a grudge. It’s awful to think that she would have gone as far as to kill Earl to get revenge over something that was an unfortunate accident.”
His words didn’t sound sincere, leading me to think that he didn’t believe a word he was saying. He didn’t think Phyllis killed Earl, but something told me he might know who did. He seemed fixated on Patty as a suspect, but I wasn’t sold on her, either.
Russell and I chatted for a few more minutes and then I thanked him for his time and left. On my way back to Fern’s, I contemplated my conversation with him, noting that there were too many contradictions in his statements for them to be true.
He claimed Earl was too busy, and that the policy accidentally got overlooked. The dilapidated state of their office was a clear indicator that they were not too busy. And Russell had not once mentioned anything about him being too busy. Both times I’d been at the office there wasn’t another client or customer in sight, and whenever I drove by the place the parking lot was empty.
No, I don’t think this was a booming business. I think Earl knew exactly was he was doing, and I’d bet money that Russell was in on it, too. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any proof. And even if Russell was involved in insurance fraud, it didn’t mean he killed Earl. Not that I could prove. At least not yet.
When I arrived back at Fern’s house, I came in through the side door near the laundry room and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Dropping my coat and purse on a dining room chair, I then made a beeline for the fridge. I was starving.
All the talking and thinking I’d been doing was making me hungry. Well, that’s what I told myself. There weren’t a whole lot of options in the fridge, but enough ingredients for me to make some homemade macaroni and cheese so I pulled out the necessary items: whole milk, Gouda, sharp cheddar, and Monterey Jack. Comfort food at its finest.
While I was waiting for the water to boil to cook the pasta, I headed outside to check the mail for Fern. When I’d gone to see Russell, she’d left around the same time to go out and celebrate her release from jail with her friends from her knitting group.
Even though she wasn’t off the hook yet, Fern took every opportunity she could to find a reason to have a good time. And I didn’t blame her. I’d want to live it up too if I had to spend a night in jail.
She’d invited me to join them when I was done, but I think their group was a bit rowdy for me. I was looking forward to a nice, quiet evening at the house with Moose, my fattening macaroni and cheese, a comfy recliner, and a good TV show.
I crossed the street to the line of mailboxes and opened Fern’s. Inside were several envelopes, probably junk, and a small folded piece of paper on top. That was strange. Unfolding it, I held it up at a better angle to read it under the streetlight.
Charlee
