Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

My new office wasn’t much more than a big closet with a chipped desk and a computer. Bree, the receptionist, could tell I was disappointed, although I tried not to show it. At least it had a small window. And it was a job.

Six months earlier I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d told me I’d be reduced to this. I was doing well at a big insurance company. My job was claims review and trust me, that’s not easy work. They wanted me to be ruthless about denying as many claims as I could. But there are plenty of legitimate claims out there, too, and I’m not heartless. Even so, I had a good reputation, and my bosses liked my work. I thought I was safe.

Then came the pandemic. The company slashed budgets, sold some of its properties, and we all hunkered down. I was still OK, though, for a while. Then, just under six months ago, I got a Zoom meeting invite from my boss. That was when she told me the news. Because of the pandemic and ‘company priorities,’ my position would be eliminated. At first, I was numb. But it didn’t take long for reality to settle in. I would need to pull back on my lifestyle. And it was all because of greed.

The first priority was a job. It took five months and everything I’d saved, and I had to get my insurance broker’s license, but Cityview Independent Agents finally hired me on a mostly commission basis. It didn’t pay enough for me to stay in my old apartment, but I found another, much smaller one close to work, so I could give up my car.

After Bree showed me my office that first day, I put my things on the desk, sat down, and turned on the computer. Once she left, I put my arms on the keyboard and lowered my head onto them. In my mind, I replayed the whole scene of being let go: the anger, the humiliation, and the betrayal. Then I looked around me. The office was clean but shabby. No comforts. I took a deep breath. At least I could pay rent.

About an hour later, Bree knocked on my open door. I looked up.
“Aaron, we have a new prospect if you’re interested.”
“Absolutely!”

A minute later, a woman about fifty or so (I’m terrible with women’s ages) walked in. I invited her to take a seat in what passed for a chair.
“How can I help you?”
“I just got divorced and moved to the area. So, I need to get some of my own policies.”
“I can help you with that.”
We talked for a few minutes about her needs. Then I looked up some of our carriers. There it was – my old employer. My first thought was to pass that by and set her up with someone else. Then I had another idea.
“OK, here’s a company that I think would be a good match for you. They have the polices you need, and the prices are fairly competitive.”

She agreed and we got going on the details. When we were done, I told her, “OK, you’re all set now.” Then I looked right into her eyes. “If you ever have a claim against this company, come in and we’ll file it here. Those big companies work a lot faster with the independent agents than with policyholders.”

I went through the same thing with the next few prospectives I met. I made sure they were all signed up, and then encouraged them to come to me if they had claims. My new boss was impressed with my sales, especially for a new agent, and I knew I was going to get a solid commission. But that was only the first part.

My clients (I had quite a few by now) soon started to come in when they had claims. “I’ll handle everything,” I assured them. And I did. I knew how that insurance company worked firsthand, so it was easy to get the documentation set up the right way so they’d pay. A lot. Well, what would you do? After what they did to me? My clients loved me because I got them money. My boss liked me because I brought in business. As for my old employer? I couldn’t care less.

One day, Bree came into my office. She shut the door behind her and sat down. “What’s up, Bree?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“If I can.”
She smiled a little. “Oh, you definitely can.” Was she coming on to me? I didn’t flatter myself.  I’m not exactly the hot-celebrity type.
“So, what can I do for you?”
“I want to set up a life insurance policy.”

I relaxed. Part of me felt a bit deflated (hey, I have an ego), but it was much better that this was just business. I pulled up the forms on my computer screen. “Ok, let’s talk about what you need.”
“This will be a policy on my husband, Dane.” I filled in the blanks as she gave me the information. When we were done, I asked her, “Do you want any riders on this policy?”
“Triple indemnity.” I looked up quickly. I felt like I was in a James M. Cain story.
“You know that’s going to cost you.”
“I know. No problem.”

Two months later, Dane died from a fall off a broken ladder. We all felt terrible for Bree. A week or so after the funeral, I stopped by her desk to see if she was OK. “Oh, I’ll be fine.” I wasn’t crazy about that smile she gave me. Then I remembered the policy I’d written. “Bree –” I started.

“No need to say anything.” I didn’t like her smile. “Just like I don’t need to say anything about what you’ve been doing for your clients. You think I don’t know? Let’s just keep each other’s little secrets.”