California Fire And Life

16

Actually, out into his office, because Billy's sitting out beside the giant saguaro he had imported from south Arizona.

It's a Billy kind of a day, Jack thinks – hot, dry, and windy. Kind of day that reminds you that Southern California is basically a desert with a few tenacious grasses, over irrigation, and a freaking army of gifted and dedicated Mexican and Japanese gardeners.

"So?" Billy asks.

"Smoking in bed," Jack says. "I was just starting to set up the file."

"Save you the trouble," Billy says. He hands Jack a folder.

Jack instantly turns to the Declarations Page. The "Dec Page" is a one-sheet detailing the types and amounts of the insurance coverage.

A million-five on the house.

No surprise there. It's a large, elegantly crafted house overlooking the ocean. The mil and a half is just for the structure. The lot is probably another mil, at least.

$750,000 on the personal property.

The max, Jack thinks. You can insure your personal property at a value up to half of the insurance on the structure. If you have personal property worth more than that, you need to get special endorsements, which Vale sure as hell did.

"Holy shit," Jack says.

$500,000 in special endorsements.

What the hell did he have in the house? Jack asks himself. To come up with $1,250,000 in personal property? And how much of it was in the west wing?

"When did the underwriters start smoking crack?" Jack asks.

"Be nice."

"These endorsements are very whacked," Jack says.

"It's California." Billy shrugs. Which is to say, of course it's whacked – everything is whacked. "How much of this stuff is destroyed?"

"Don't know," Jack says. "I haven't been in the house yet."

"Why not?"

"I found their dog outside," Jack says. "I thought I'd better get it back to them first."

Billy hears that the dog was outside and raises a significant eyebrow.

Sucks on his cig for a second then says, "It got out when the firemen came in?"

Jack shakes his head. "No soot, no smoke. Fur wasn't singed."

Because dogs are usually heroes. Fire breaks out, they don't run, they stick.

"The dog was outside before the fire," Jack says.

"Don't go off half-cocked," Billy warns.

"I'm fully cocked," Jack says. "I figure Mrs. Vale let the dog out to do its thing and forgot about it. She was hammered. Anyway, I want to get it to the kids."

"Well, you'll have your chance," Billy says. "Vale called a half-hour ago."

Say what?

"You're kidding," Jack says.

"He wants you to come over."

"Now?" Jack asks. "His wife has been dead for what, six hours, and he wants to start adjusting his claim?"

Billy snuffs out the cigarette on the rocks. The butt joins its dead brothers in an arc around Billy's feet.

"They're separated," Billy says. "Maybe he's not all that torn up."

He gives Jack the address in Monarch Bay and strikes another match.

Then says, "And – Jack? Get a statement."

Like he has to tell him.

Billy knows that most other adjusters would just take the Sheriff's statement, attach it to their reports, and start adjusting the claim.

Not Jack.

You give a big file to Jack Wade, he'll work it to death.

Billy figures this is because Jack doesn't have a wife, or kids, or even a girlfriend. He doesn't have to be home for dinner, or to the school for a ballet recital, or even out on a date. Jack doesn't even have an ex-wife, so he doesn't have his every other weekend or three weeks in the summer with the kids, or I-have-to-get-to-Johnny's-soccer-game-or-he'll-end-up-back-in-therapy time demands.

What Jack does have is his job, a couple of old surfboards, and his car.

Jack has no life.

He fits the Vale file like a custom-made boot.

Jack's walking back through the lobby when Carol, the receptionist, calls and tells him that Olivia Hathaway is here to see him.

"Tell her I'm not in," Jack says.

Olivia Hathaway is all he needs right now.

"She saw your car in employee parking," the receptionist says.

Jack sighs, "Do you have a meeting room?"

"One-seventeen," the receptionist says. "She requested it. It's her favorite."

"She likes the painting of the sailboat," Jack says. "Can you look after this dog for a few minutes?"

"What's its name?"

"Leo."

Five minutes later Jack's sitting in a small room across the table from Olivia Hathaway.