“So if I’m an investor and I buy someone’s policy, and the person doesn’t die when I was promised they would, I basically lose my shirt?”

“The longer they live, the less you get out of it.”

“And if the person continues not to die?”

“The less you make on the deal.”

“And if I’m really shrewd and buy the policy for less than it’s worth, knowing full well the person I’m buying it from is in no position to haggle with me?”

“I’d like to say that could never happen, but reality? People are people. Not everyone’s ethical.”

I sat quietly, letting the information sink in. I’d forgotten about the second muffin.

“So I might decide to do something about the waiting,” I said finally.

“Do something? Like what?”

“Bring about death,” I said.

“As in ‘kill somebody’?”

“Yes.”

Lucy said nothing for a time. “Yeah, I don’t like the way your mind works, so I’m hanging up now. I thought we were talking investments, but things have gone way off the rails here.”

I had to agree with her, but then I also had to admit that people killed for all kinds of reasons. Spada and the investor, whoever that was, stood to lose a lot if Tim didn’t die when his doctors said he would. So, do they just sit there and watch money slip away from them, or do they do something about it? Was that where Darby came in?

“I’d imagine there’d be reputable places where you could set something like this up, but also a few disreputable ones, too,” I said.

“Just like anything else, sure. You have to be very careful what you sign off on, that’s for sure. But this type of investment is regulated. I mean, there’s oversight, laws. This isn’t the Wild West.”

My eyes tracked an old man as he walked up to the counter and stood stymied by the variety of choices on the menu board. I felt for him. Only Starbucks could complicate a cup of joe. The old man quickly gave up and left. “And reputable or disreputable,” I said, “they’d deal in multiple settlements, not just one. So that seven- to eight-thousand-dollar example you gave me could potentially be multiplied by fifty or a hundred, or more.”

“Sure.”

“Can the broker and the investor be the same person?”

“Hmmm.” I could hear tapping from Lucy’s end of the line as she considered the question, likely her Number 2 pencil hitting the top of her immaculate desk. “The company could be the purchaser of the policy, thereby becoming the investor. What’s going on?”

“Beats me, but I don’t think I like it.”

“And all those numbers you just quoted me rise if the policy’s worth more than a hundred thousand.”

“Right. It’s basic math. Seriously, what’s this all about?”