CHRISTY BIGELOW WAS A very attractive woman, bordering on beautiful. She was five feet, five inches tall and at 48 years old still had a youthful figure with an impressive bust of say, 36DD or E. Her hair was usually red or auburn, but sometimes she would become a honey blond, it was always professionally styled and coloured, according to her moods.
She worked out three times a week at a gym that now called itself a health club. Christy suspected that the real reason they changed their title was so that they could charge more for the memberships. On the other four days she walked two miles each morning, rarely jogging. She was not a health nut, but wanted to keep that youthful figure and was willing to do whatever it took to keep trim.
It was after the death of her first husband, while still in mourning; that she discovered the Internet. She was like a child in a candy store. The Internet had pulled back the curtains and exposed her to a whole new world of men. She met her second husband, a dentist, at a Christian Dating site. He had lost his wife of twenty-six years to cancer and was looking for another good Christian woman. Christy convinced him that she was ‘the’ one in a million he was seeking and they married in Simi Valley and then honeymooned in the Bahamas. Since he did not drink alcoholic beverages, they sipped on fruit juices from hollowed out pineapples, with colourful little paper umbrellas stuck in the top; cheap umbrellas made in China. She pretended that she never drank also.
She said all the right things and looked pious when they attended church, Lutheran, and the dentist had bought the entire program. He was adequate in bed, but had an annoying habit of wanting to pray before they had sex. He preferred to use ‘making love’ to describe his huffing, puffing and grunting. Fortunately, or unfortunately if you were the dentist, he died after only six months of marital bliss.
Christy was sitting in the living room of the house purchased with the proceeds from her first husband’s will; meeting with an insurance adjuster.
He trusted no one, least of all a beautiful widow who had only been married for six months. Her second husband, the dentist, had a $500,000.00 life insurance policy with Christy as the beneficiary. The adjuster was rail skinny, with a hatchet face and slick black hair. The skin on his face was pockmarked; perhaps he had smallpox when he was younger, or maybe an overly severe case of acne. He carried his papers in a cheap knockoff attaché case, labelled made by Bally; but was actually produced by child labour in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. The latch on the right side kept sticking, so he only latched the left side; hoping that no one would notice.
“One thing does puzzle me Mrs. Osterman…”
“Christy. Call me Christy.” First because she wanted this pushy insurance adjuster on her side, and second, because she never liked that last name anyway. She shifted in the chair, to give the adjuster a better view of her legs, which she knew were shapely and appealing.
“Alright, Christy. What puzzles me is that your deceased husband had recently undergone an annual physical, and the clinic gave him a clean bill of health. Then, three weeks later dies from a heart attack.” He leaned back, hoping to see her squirm under his withering glare.
She nodded slowly, as if contemplating his veiled implications.
“So you’re suggesting that I sue the hospital and clinic, for missing his heart problems during the physical.”
Her unexpected candour caught him off guard.
“Well…er…no, I was merely stating that I found it unusual that a reputable clinic would give your husband a favourable medical report and then for him to die while…while…” he hesitated. He did not want to embarrass her to the point where she would stop talking to him, or even worse, call his boss with a complaint.
“Died while in the arms of his wife?” She almost said ‘loving wife’, but thought it might sound a bit trite.
“Yes. Don’t you find that unusual?”
“That he was in the arms of his loving wife? I’d find it unusual if he were in the arms or another woman, God forbid.” She crossed herself piously, even though she was not Catholic. She decided to use loving wife, to twist the verbal blade.
“No. No, not that he was with you. I mean it was unusual that he died so soon after a physical that claimed he was in good health.”
“Are you a doctor?” she asked with a jaundiced eye.
“Well…er…no, I’m an insurance investigator and…”
“That’s not what your card says.” She scrutinized his card, as if checking more closely. “It says you’re an adjuster.”
“Christy. Call me Christy.” First because she wanted this pushy insurance adjuster on her side, and second, because she never liked that last name anyway. She shifted in the chair, to give the adjuster a better view of her legs, which she knew were shapely and appealing.
“Alright, Christy. What puzzles me is that your deceased husband had recently undergone an annual physical, and the clinic gave him a clean bill of health. Then, three weeks later dies from a heart attack.” He leaned back, hoping to see her squirm under his withering glare.
She nodded slowly, as if contemplating his veiled implications.
“So you’re suggesting that I sue the hospital and clinic, for missing his heart problems during the physical.”
Her unexpected candour caught him off guard.
“Well…er…no, I was merely stating that I found it unusual that a reputable clinic would give your husband a favourable medical report and then for him to die while…while…” he hesitated. He did not want to embarrass her to the point where she would stop talking to him, or even worse, call his boss with a complaint.
“Died while in the arms of his wife?” She almost said ‘loving wife’, but thought it might sound a bit trite.
“Yes. Don’t you find that unusual?”
“That he was in the arms of his loving wife? I’d find it unusual if he were in the arms or another woman, God forbid.” She crossed herself piously, even though she was not Catholic. She decided to use loving wife, to twist the verbal blade.
“No. No, not that he was with you. I mean it was unusual that he died so soon after a physical that claimed he was in good health.”
“Are you a doctor?” she asked with a jaundiced eye.
“Well…er…no, I’m an insurance investigator and…”
“That’s not what your card says.” She scrutinized his card, as if checking more closely. “It says you’re an adjuster.”
