Fletch(8)
“Yes.”
“Who is a patient of yours?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I’m the Collins’ family doctor. John Collins and I were roommates in college. Stanwyk married his daughter, Joan Collins. So I guess I’m his physician. I usually only see him socially.”
“How long has Mr. Stanwyk been your patient, doctor?”
“Since he moved out here. Really, since before he married Joan. I’m not being very specific, am I? About six years. I could look it up, if you like.”
“No, that’s all right, doctor. We’re just reviewing some of these cases here. As you know, Mr. Stanwyk is insured for an enormous amount of money.”
“Yes, I do know.”
“Why is that, by the way? Why is he insured for so much?”
“Oh, that’s John’s doing. The kid, Alan, loves to fly these experimental planes. You know, he was in the Air Force before he went to business school. He kept up his flying and jumps at the chance to fly any ridiculous-looking thing somebody thinks will go up in the air. I guess his continuing to do so means something to the company. Collins Aviation.”
“Would there be a three-million-dollar loss to the family if Mr. Stanwyk were killed?”
“I don’t know. I suppose so. The stock would drop, and the family owns most of it. He’s the fair-haired boy of the company, and there isn’t any other. They would have management difficulties, personnel difficulties …. Yes, I suppose the family could lose that much if Alan were killed.”
“I see.”
“But, frankly, I don’t think that’s the reason for the policy.”
“Oh?”
“John put that policy on him to try to get him to stop flying these gimcracked planes after Julia was born. He thought the premiums would convince Alan he should give up flying. I believe John mentioned that to me over a drink one day at the Racquets Club. I had said that much insurance on somebody would make anybody a target for murder. John didn’t think my impugning his daughter was funny.”
“Who is Julia?”
“The granddaughter. I mean, Joan’s daughter. Joan and Alan. A cute little tyke.”
“Mr. Stanwyk is still flying?”
“Oh, yes. Every once in a while we hear of a near scrape. Keep the insurance on.”
“When was the last time you examined Mr. Stanwyk, doctor?”
“Not since before you guys took him over. You’re giving him a complete physical every six months. How many times a year can a man be examined?”
“You haven’t seen him at all?”
“As I say, just socially. At John’s for drinks, or dinner at the club.”
“What sort of shape would you say he is in?”
“I couldn’t say without examining. From seeing him at the pool and in the locker room, I can say he is a slim, well-built young man, muscular and apparently perfectly healthy. He drinks and smokes moderately. He’s built like a twenty-year-old boxer. Except for his wind, he could go fifteen rounds with anybody.”
“Is it possible he could be seeing any doctor other than you?”
“Anything’s possible.”
“A specialist?”
“I don’t know who would refer him to a specialist, if your insurance doctor didn’t. And if he became aware of a problem, he would most likely refer him back to me, and I would refer him to a specialist, if he needed one. If the question is, have I referred him to a specialist lately, or ever, the answer is no.”
“Thank you, doctor. Sorry to take your time.”
“May I ask the reason for this inquiry?”
“We have to do a summary investigation of these large carriers periodically.”
“Three million dollars is a hefty amount of insurance. That much insurance on a man would change his whole way of life, I would think.”
“Or his way of death, doctor.”
4
“Library.”
“I asked for the clips on Alan Stanwyk at a quarter past eight this morning. It is now a quarter to eleven. What the hell’s the matter with you people?”
“Is this Mr. Fletcher?”
“It is.”
“The chief librarian wants to speak with you.”
Fletch had been pleased to get the photo file on Stanwyk before the chief librarian had arrived for work at nine.
“Fletcher?”
“Yes.”
“We have the clips on Alan Stanwyk down here for you anytime you want to pick them up.”
“Terrific. Such cooperation. I’ve been waiting two hours while you guys have been playing games.”
“Running a morgue is no game, Fletcher. We are not running a delivery service. You have to come down and get the file yourself.”