Soul Sucker

John Miller’s POV

Manhattan Life Building, New York City

Monday, August 8, 2022

I returned to my office floor, stopping in to update Terry Callahan on what I’d found so far. “The autopsy is a dead end,” I told him. “Doctor White tells me an inconclusive cause of death in a young man is common enough not to indicate foul play, and everything else is clean. The timing is unfortunate, but I don’t see any reason to deny the claim at this point.”

He leaned back and nodded. “What does your gut tell you?”

“It’s all too convenient.”

“That was my thought as well. Keep digging, John.”

Terry was enough of a cop to know that you had to follow your gut. “How much time to I have?”

He looked at his desk calendar. “Thirty days from the claim being filed is a week from Wednesday. As long as we don’t delay the payment without cause, we’re still within the bounds of the policy. Of course, if you find cause, bring it to me right away.”

“And the other cases I’m working?”

“Email me a list. I’ll reassign them if they can’t wait. Do whatever it takes to run this to ground, John. If you need to travel, let me know.”

Something wasn’t right here. “Terry, why the full-court press on this one? I don’t even have an unreasonable suspicion, much less a reasonable one. The Medical Examiner and the report from the ship show no signs of foul play.”

He smiled. “Take a look at this. I had our actuarial staff search for males under sixty-five with an unknown cause of death who passed within 30 days of getting married and carried over a million in life insurance.” He handed me the list.

I scanned the page and a half long list. Two stood out, both for the relatively young age of the deceased and the size of the policies. The first was twelve years ago, a six-million-dollar policy on the owner of a dozen fast-food franchises. The second was five years ago, a ten-million-dollar payout on a San Francisco internet executive. “You think they are connected?”

“I don’t know what to think. I find it curious, and I’m willing to let you vet it out.”

“Got it. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks, buddy. Now I need a favor. And when I say I need a favor, Cathy wants this and you’re saving me from marital strife by agreeing.”

I rolled my eyes. “What?”

“She wants you to come to our place for an informal dinner gathering tomorrow. Her parents have the kids, so it’s a rare Tuesday night alone for us.”

“And you’re taking advantage of this by inviting me?” He tried not to smile. “Let me guess. The fourth at this party is an attractive woman in her thirties to early forties who is a friend of Cathy and single?” By his reaction, I’d hit the nail on the head. “You know I hate blind dates.”

“You hate dating period, John. She’s wants you to be happy, and for some reason thinks that happiness requires you to be married. I can’t stop her from trying.”

“You aren’t refusing to toss me into the arenas with the divorcees,” I objected. “What kind of night are you dragging me into?”

“I’ll grill some steaks, dinner out back, then we can watch the Red Sox take on the Royals from the pool and hot tub. Cathy says she’s a huge baseball fan and swears you will hit it off."

"Red Sox fan?"

"Mets." I rolled my eyes. At least it wasn't the damn Yankees. "You need to bring a bag along in the morning and take the train home with me.” Terry had a home in the suburbs near Newark, New Jersey.

God, a blind date? You’d think she’d have learned her lesson from the last one. I was trapped, and I knew it. Nobody said no to Cathy. I felt like Sal Tessio when he realized Michael Corleone had seen through his schemes. I changed my voice to his. “Can you get me off the hook, Tom? For old time’s sake?”

Terry grinned and shook his head. “Can’t do it, Sally.”

Fuck. “I guess I hit the gym tonight then. You owe me, buddy.” I took the paper back to my desk and opened my computer. “Follow the money,” I told myself.

The file told me Jordyn had already collected the standard $500k life insurance benefit for employees of Petersen Trucking. A quick internet search turned up an article from the Indianapolis paper on Friday. “Petersen Trucking Sold to Allied Transportation in Cash Deal.” I printed it out to add to the file. Jordyn (Carter) Petersen placed the company on the market early last week, requesting cash offers. She received three. Allied Transportation’s reported twenty-million-dollar bid was accepted on Friday and was expected to close in the next week. A spokesman for Allied assured their new employees that their jobs were safe and promised a bright future with their new bosses. “Yeah, until they figure out who they don’t need anymore,” I said to myself. The value of the company went beyond the equipment and the people; it was the contracts they held, which now went to Allied.

It was all a little sudden for me; a family company sold within two weeks of the funeral service? Was she doing the best thing for the company or for herself? I highlighted the relevant information and put it in the file. I made a few calls after that, speaking to the law firm handling the sale and the reporter who wrote the story. Neither were much help; the lawyer confirmed he was handling the sale at the request of the widow, but refused further comment. The reporter was more interested in why an insurance investigator was asking about it than the actual sale.

I pulled up the stories about Michael’s death and the next. The stories were sympathetic to the newly widowed Jordyn, with several references to how in love they were and what a tragedy his sudden death was. The article about the memorial service showed Jordyn sitting next to the urn and a photo of her late husband. It was my first look at her, and Michael had been a lucky man. The black dress and hat couldn’t hide her beauty or her voluptuous curves. I added the printouts with my notes to the file.

The next step was to dig into Jordyn’s background. She had zero presence on social media, which was suspicious nowadays for a 25-year-old female. This makes my job a lot harder, as social media is the public source of so much data on people these days! As a private investigator, I don’t have access to the law enforcement and government databases I used to have. I sent what I had on Jordyn to one of our interns in the office. He could troll the Internet for more data and give me a report.

I went back to the report Terry gave me. I opened my email program and started a message to a group of my peers in other companies. A single insurance fraudster could hit multiple companies, so we shared data regularly to protect ourselves. I modified the search criteria to look for younger men with bigger policies, figuring that would reduce the noise.

Hey all,

I’m investigating a potential Black Widow life insurance case, and I’m wondering how common this sequence of events is. We did a search at Manhattan Life for the following:

-Male policy holder under fifty

-Dies within 30 days of marriage of unknown natural causes

-Policy taken out within a year of death

-Death benefit of more than $3m

My search over the last two decades shows two that stand out.

I included a short summary of both cases that caught my eye.

Please respond with a similar summary of results, and indicate if there was anything suspicious in the claim besides the timing and unknown cause. Thanks, John.

I hit SEND and went on a break. When I returned, I decided to change course while I waited for the results on Jordyn. I went back to the list Terry gave me, and did a search on the widow in the San Francisco case.

It wasn’t a long search, showing nothing newer than four years ago. Changing the search to her maiden name didn’t help. “The fuck?” The search programs came up with phone numbers that were now disconnected, addresses she no longer lived at, and emails that no longer worked. I went into official government record databases next. I found her marriage certificate and driver’s license, but that had expired, and the address was still from before her marriage. She hadn’t married again, and she hadn’t died.

Where the hell did this woman go after inheriting millions of dollars?

I shifted gears again, searching for the widow of the New Orleans fast-food owner. Once again, I found plenty of information from around the time of his death. His widow had sold the businesses, taken the insurance money, then disappeared. I couldn’t find any records on her in the last decade.

I looked up at the clock, seeing it was nearing five o’clock. I gathered what I had on the old cases and went to knock on Terry’s door. “What did you find?”

I sat in the chair opposite his desk. “Houston, we have a problem.”