Double Indemnity

Notes: ~Represents the narrator's (Walter's) voice~, *Represents thoughts*

Double Indemnity, 4/?
by Scribe

Chapter Four

~I was fashionably late Thursday afternoon--three-forty. I didn't want Philip Dietrichson to know how eager I was to see him again. There was no way he could know that I'd been parked a couple of blocks away for a half-hour, just smoking and thinking about how that towel had rode low on his hips. I was thinking about how easy it would be to just give it a tug, and watch it unwind.~

Philip Dietrichson answered the door this time. He was dressed casually again--very casually. He wore one of the loose, gaudily printed shirts that had become popular among the wilder young men when all things Hawaiian became popular. Walter couldn't recall seeing anyone out of their teens wearing one anywhere except the beach, or at a pool. He was also wearing the sort of pants that went with the shirt--clam diggers that came midway up his calves. He hadn't even bothered with the sandals this time. He was barefooted.

There was a moment of silence as Walter and Philip regarded each other. Finally Philip said, "Hello, Mister Neff." Walter nodded. After another moment Philip said, "Are you coming in?"

"I'm considering it." Walter strolled in.

As Philip shut the door he said, "What a nice surprise."

That stopped Neff. "Surprise? We have an appointment."

"Oh, that's right--I changed the appointment." He didn't sound at all surprised. "I'm sorry about that, but last night wasn't convenient."

"That's okay. I needed to work on my stamp collection. It's fiddly work, but I'm good with my hands."

Philip raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply. Instead he gestured for Walter to follow, and led him into the living room again. There was a tea tray on the table, loaded with a teapot, ice, sugar, lemon, and glasses--TWO glasses. The forgotten appointment had been bunk, and Philip apparently wasn't too concerned that Walter knew it. "I was just about to fix myself some iced tea. With the heat the way it is lately, I just have to pour the liquids down. Would you like a glass?"

"Unless you have a beer somewhere that isn't working."

He hesitated. "Well, I'm not sure what Nettie has in the ice box." He raised his voice. "Nettie?" Not waiting for an answer, he started filling a glass with ice, poured himself some tea, then reached for the sugar bowl. Walter watched, his amusement growing as Philip took four spoons of sugar, then started to stir it. "I spoke to my wife about the policies last night."

"Did you?"

Philip shot Walter a glance, but chose to ignore the wry tone. "Yes. She's going to renew--she told me so. In fact, I thought she was going to be here this afternoon."

"But she's not?"

"No."

Walter smiled. "That's terrible."

Philip took a sip of tea, then lifted his voice again. "Nettie? Nettie!" He suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh, I forgot! It's the maid's day off."

"Uh-huh."

"I could go check--"

"Iced tea will be fine."

Philip put down his glass and began to prepare another. "Sugar? Lemon?"

"How you take it will be fine." Walter sat on the sofa and looked around. The room was just as stuffy and dusty as before. "Since it's the maid's day off, maybe I can do something for you." Philip was handing him the tea. As he took it, he said, "Like running the vacuum cleaner."

Philip frowned slightly. "Your freshness borders on being rude, Mister Neff."

"Let me know when I cross the border."

"Never fear." Philip took his own tea and sat down in a large chair opposite the couch. He pulled the teenager trick of half turning so that he could bend his legs and rest the knees against the arm, with his feet tucked up near his butt.

~There was that anklet again. I got the distinct impression that he'd noticed my fascination, and was flaunting it.~

"I used to peddle vacuum cleaners," Walter continued. "It didn't pay much, but you learned a lot about life."

Philip was taking a sip, and he peered at Walter over the rim of his glass before replying. "I didn't think you got it from the encyclopedia."

"Where'd you get this tea drinking? You're not English, are you?"

"Do I SOUND English? Anyway, they favor hot tea, and I just can't go hot tea in the summer time. I'm a native Californian, born right here in Los Angeles."

"I've heard people say that all native Californians come from Iowa."

Philip put down his glass. "I wanted to ask you something, Mister Neff."

"Call me Walter."

Philip paused. "Walter, on this insurance--how much commission do you make?"

"Twenty per cent. Why?"

"That doesn't seem like much. I just thought that perhaps I could throw some more business your way."

"I could always use it. What did you have in mind?"

"I've been thinking about my wife. I worry about her. The oil business can be dangerous."

"Surely not for an executive?"

"You don't understand, Walter. She doesn't just sit behind a desk. She started this business with her first husband, and worked closely with him. He taught her every aspect of the business. She goes out into the oil fields, out with the drilling crews. It's got me worried green."

"You're afraid that a crown block might fall on her some rainy night?"

"Don't say things like that. It's almost like wishing it on her. Last week a casing line snapped and caught the foreman. It broke his back. He lived, but he'll probably never walk again. It made my hair stand on end when I heard about it. Suppose something like that happened to Claudia?"

"It could."

"Well, don't you think she should have accident insurance?"

~I could feel a cool stillness settle into the pit of my stomach. Philip Dietrichson was looking at me with wide golden eyes--eyes that should have been guileless, but weren't. It was like standing in the middle of a deserted road, and looking, and seeing a single car, far off in the distance--knowing that if you didn't move, it was going to run you down--knowing that, and not moving.~

Walter realized that he'd hesitated longer than he should have. "It would be the practical thing to do."

"What sort of insurance could he have?"

"Well, let me think... She'd want to cover doctor and hospital bills, then since she's the sole source of household income..." Walter looked at Philip, "She is, isn't she?" Philip nodded, expression still interested, but with a tinge of sourness now. "She'd want a cash benefit of around a hundred and twenty five a week, then I think she'd qualify for, oh, around fifty thousand capital sum."

"Capital sum? What's that?"

"That's what you'd get if she was killed." There was a second of silence. "I guess I shouldn't have said that."

"It's not a pleasant thought, but I suppose you have to consider everything in your profession."

"If she's been running the business alone, she'll understand. I'm sure I can sell her on the idea, if I can talk to her."

"I suppose you could try, but she's a pretty hard sell."

"They're all tough--at first."

Philip started picking at a loose thread on the chair's upholstery. "She's got a lot on her mind. When she's away from work she doesn't want to listen to anything except maybe some soppy soap opera on the radio." He sighed gustily. "Some times we sit in here all evening without saying a word to each other."

"Sounds dull."

"You have no idea. She won't go out, and I CAN'T--not on my own. So we sit here. I play solitaire, and she listens to the radio, and knits." He made a face. "I have enough hideous pairs of socks, gloves, and scarves to stock a counter at Woolworth's."

"Sounds dull, but safe. Knitting... Is that why you married her?"

Philip regarded Walter, considering. "Maybe I like the way she winds her wool."

Walter shrugged. "Any time you'd like to see how I handle a skein..."

~I was pushing it. He didn't seem offended, but he got right back to business.~

"I have a question for you, Walter. Could I get an accident policy for her, without bothering her at all?"

"How's that again?"

~Oh, I'd heard him, all right, and I knew what he was really asking, but I wanted to give him the chance to prove me wrong.~

Philip stopped playing with the loose thread, and made direct eye contact with Walter. "It would be easier for you, too. You wouldn't have to go through the whole spiel with her. I have a little allowance of my own. I could pay for it, and she needn't know anything about it."

"Why shouldn't she know about it?"

Philip gestured impatiently. "Because she wouldn't want it. She's superstitious about things like that."

"A lot of people are. Sometimes they have good reasons."

"If there was a way to get it like that, all the worry would be over. You see what I mean, Walter?"

"Oh, sure. I see it fine--I don't need specs. You want her to have the policy without knowing about it, and that would mean that the insurance company couldn't know that she didn't know. Is that the plan?"

"I wouldn't really call it a plan, and is there anything wrong with it?"

"No. No, it's just lovely. And then, some night if that crown block DOES fall..."

Philip's expression became blank. "We're back to the crown block again."

"Only sometimes they don't fall on their own--they need a little help. Of course it doesn't HAVE to be the crown block. A car could back over her, or she could slip and fall out of an upstairs window, slip in the bath and bang her head... Any way, so long as you end up having to take that trip to the morgue for identification, right?"

"Are you insane?" Philip's voice was cold.

"Not certifiable." Walter stood up. "Good-bye, Mister Dietrichson."

As Walter picked up his hat, Philip said, "What's got into your head?"

"It won't work, kid. You can't get away with it."

The chill in his voice intensified. "Get away with what?"

"You want to knock her off, don't you, baby?"

There was a moment of silence, and Walter waited for the indignant denials. Instead Philip said quietly, "That's a horrible thing to say."

~We'd been dancing around each other from the moment I'd seen him at the top of the stairs, but the time had come to be blunt, so I just said it plain.~

"Who did you think I was, anyway? Some susceptible schnook that walks into a hot looking guy's house and says, 'Good afternoon, I sell accident insurance on unwanted wives. You got one that's outlived her usefulness? Want to turn her into some ready cash? Just give me a smile, and I'll help you collect.' That's the worst of it--that you obviously must think I'm stupid."

Philip's voice was still quiet, and he was watching Walter with new interest. "I think you're rotten."

"And I think you're swell--as long as -I'm- not the one between you and a pay off."

"Get out of here."

"You bet I'll get out of here, baby." Walter put on his hat. "But quick." He left, and Philip didn't show him out, or peer from the window this time.

~I'd let him have it, right between the eyes. He hadn't fooled me for a minute this time. I'd suspected it when he mentioned accident insurance, and I'd known for sure when he started in on 'not bothering' his wife. I knew right then that I had hold of a red hot poker, and the time to drop it was before I got my hand burned off. I left, and went right to a drive in for a beer. I wanted to get the sour taste of his iced tea out of my mouth. That worked fine, but he was in my mind like an itch I couldn't scratch, and I knew THAT wasn't going away any time soon.~