Chapter Thirteen
Bechel’s Insurance Company
The office was a small one. Nothing like Leah had expected, given the building where it was located and the many types of insurance sold.
A soaring high-rise made of steel, glass and concrete.
The office was on the tenth floor. She read a few of the Google reviews, and there was nothing bad mentioned about the owner or the business, only the surprisingly small office and the idea that it was basically a one-man operation.
Owen’s research had discovered that the company was actually part of a larger one that had small offices all over the country.
On the elevator ride up to the proper floor, Owen started in again. “You really should be resting in bed or on the sofa watching television.”
“You’ve called this guy three times, and he hasn’t called back. It’s time for a face-to-face. You said so yourself.”
He shot her a sidelong glance. “That was before someone gave you a concussion and tried to set you on fire.”
There was that. “We’re here.” The elevator bumped to a stop, and the doors opened. “We might as well do this.”
“Just take it easy,” he urged as he waited for her to step into the corridor.
She headed for the office, and Owen followed.
He opened the door, and they entered the tiny lobby.
There were four chairs, a table with a couple of magazines and a sliding window behind which a receptionist likely sat.
But not at the moment. Leah’s shoulders sagged.
If the man wasn’t here, she was going to scream—except that would make her head hurt worse.
Though she would never admit it, she felt exhausted. Irritable. Her head ached. It was all to be expected, but that didn’t make functioning any easier. “No one’s here,” she muttered.
Owen shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll just see.” He took the three steps across the dinky room and opened the only other door besides the entrance.
On the other side was a narrow hall lined with three more doors.
The first on the right was open, and it led to the desk behind the sliding window.
The one across the hall was open as well and showed off a minuscule powder room.
At the end of the short hallway was the third. Owen glanced at her, held up a hand to knock but then heard a male voice on the other side. Had to be Hoyt Bechel, the owner; otherwise, someone else was using his office.
As Owen prepared to knock again, the man on the other side told someone he would be hearing from him soon and then said goodbye.
When the door didn’t open with an exiting client, Owen knocked.
They waited, heard the man on the other side shuffling around his desk. The door opened and a frazzled-looking middle-aged fellow glared at them through his glasses.
“Can I help you?”
“Mr. Bechel?” Owen asked.
“That’s me.” He smoothed back the strands of hair that were sticking up as if he’d run his hand through repeatedly.
“I’m Owen Walker. This is Leah Gerard. We’re here about the Douglas life insurance policy,” he explained. “I’ve left you several voicemails.”
“Ah, yes.” He nodded, the movement exaggerated. “Sorry, it’s been really busy.”
“May we come in?” Leah asked when he made no offer.
“Ah, sure, sure.” He backed up, rounded his desk and smiled in welcome. “Come on in and have a seat.”
Leah sat down, but Owen remained standing. He braced his hands on the back of the other chair.
“So, how can I help you?” He looked from Leah to Owen and back. “You’re one of the beneficiaries,” he said to Leah.
“Yes.”
“I,” Owen interjected, “would like to know how my fiancée ended up being added to this man’s insurance policy.”
Leah stared at him. His statement startled her, but she recovered quickly. A great cover for the question.
Bechel’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, now, I can’t tell you the reason, because I have no idea.
I met Mr. Douglas a few times. He took out the policy ten years ago.
Right here in the office. But when he changed the beneficiaries, he did that online.
He ordered a form for updating. It was mailed to his address of record.
He filled it out, signed it and sent it back. ”
“Was it notarized?” Owen asked.
Bechel shook his head slowly, hesitantly. “We don’t require that.” He frowned. “If there is some question about whether this was an authorized update by the policy owner, then we’ll have to look into it.”
“But anyone could have requested the forms as long as they had access to his account,” Owen argued.
“Well, I suppose so. But we compared the signatures to the original application. We always do that, and it looked proper. My secretary called to confirm. Those are our safeguards.” He turned to Leah then.
“I’m sure you’re aware there won’t be a payout until the homicide investigation is complete.
But once all is sorted out, we’ll get the money to you. ”
She held up her hands. “I understand. I’m just trying to figure out how this happened.”
“You’ll have to overlook my surprise. We rarely have a beneficiary come in with a question like that. Generally, they’re very happy to be receiving money.”
The man had no idea. “I understand there are two beneficiaries,” Leah said. “What happens if one of them dies before the payout? What happens to the money?”
His gaze narrowed. “Well, there are two beneficiaries, and the benefits are fifty-fifty, as specified by the policy owner. If one of the beneficiaries passes away before distribution, the full amount of the policy payout will go to the remaining beneficiary.” He held up his hands in surrender fashion.
“I’m a little uncomfortable discussing this aspect of the benefits with you.
Perhaps we should call Detective Lambert and make him aware of your concerns. ”
“Detective Lambert is well aware of our concerns,” Owen said. “He was at the scene last night when someone made an attempt on Leah’s life.”
Bechel drew back. “Oh my. This has been a terrible, terrible situation. But I will leave it to the authorities to handle whatever is going on. Please take care of yourself, Ms. Gerard. Rest assured that the underwriters at Patriot Insurance are safeguarding the benefits Mr. Douglas purchased.”
Leah stood, her legs a little wobbly. She really did need to rest, but how could she? Someone had tried to kill her, and that someone was still out there!
They were out of the office and back in the elevator, headed down, before she worked up the nerve to say, “I was surprised to hear you’d proposed.” She laughed, tapped her temple. “I guess I lost that memory with this concussion.”
Owen chuckled. “I thought about it all night while you were lying in that hospital bed.”
“You were in that bed with me,” she teased.
“This is true.” He grinned.
“So you were busy thinking while I was sleeping.” Her own grin tugged at her lips.
“It was either that or stare at you, and that may have caused issues.”
Leah nodded. “I see.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened.
Owen stepped out first, had a look around and then put her arm in his. “Can I take you back to the apartment now?”
“Not until we see the ex-wife.” Leah knew that had been on his to-do list. They needed to stick to the investigation. “I’m fine, really.” She was tired, yes. But she could do this. It couldn’t wait.
He scanned the sidewalk and street before they exited the building. Once he was satisfied, they began the walk to the car. “Are you certain you’re feeling all right? Really.”
“Really, I am. I’m a little tired, but that’s normal with a concussion like this. As long as I don’t try to run a marathon or get into a fight, I think I’m good.”
He shook his head. “You are stubborn.”
She’d gotten it from her daddy. “I’ll rest tonight, I promise.”
“You absolutely will,” he vowed.
Somehow she had a feeling she was going to really enjoy tonight.
Louise Douglas Residence
Wolcott Avenue, 1:00 p.m.
THE DOUGLAS HOME was a multi-million-dollar residence ensconced comfortably between two other lovely high-end homes. According to Owen’s research, Mrs. Douglas got the house and a car in the divorce settlement—as well as a very hefty monthly child support and alimony payment.
City records showed a mortgage on the house. With her ex-husband dead, those big monthly payments would likely be gone as soon as his remaining assets were dissolved or passed on according to his will. The house would be paid off.
Since Mrs. Douglas was a stay-at-home mother, any issues with the estate payout or the insurance proceeds was likely not good. She would need every dime of the five million, plus whatever else there was to inherit in order to maintain her current lifestyle.
A huge motive for murder.
Her ex-husband’s and Leah’s.
“What if she won’t talk to us?” Leah’s nerves were jittery.
“Curiosity will force her to talk to us.” Owen turned to her. “You ready?”
She exhaled a big breath. “Guess so.” She had insisted on doing this, after all.
Owen exited the car and was at her side of the vehicle before she could get the door open and climb out.
That was the thing about this concussion.
She felt like she was moving in slow motion.
Losing time was another thing she’d noticed.
Just when she thought five seconds had passed, she realized it was a minute or more.
They walked up the front steps, and Owen rang the bell. The brick-and-limestone house looked very much like a brownstone but was likely only a few years old. It was a style Leah loved, but owning one was about as likely as her winning the lottery.
The door opened, and the woman Leah had seen in photos on Raymond’s social media accounts stood before them. Tall, slim, blonde, green eyes and dressed to the nines, as they say. The woman was gorgeous.
“You.” She glared at Leah. “How dare you come to my home.”