Thinking back later on the next week after that evening, Raoul would barely remember it. The whole span of time was just one long blur of anxious waiting, punctuated by two brief phone calls to Erik, from a payphone of course.
On the phone, both men were tense and hurried, running through The Plan rapid-fire, over and over, until either of them could have been woken from a dead sleep to recite it flawlessly- although of course, neither of them would have told anyone.
The first step was to actually get the insurance policy signed. Raoul spent days going over every legal detail in the book, and there was no way to get the policy without Mrs. Dietrichson signing the document in her own hand.
When he told Erik that, the other man had given a short, sharp sigh, and Raoul could almost hear his hands start fidgeting over the phone line. "Well, that won't do. Are you sure? I'm her husband, it seems as though I should be able to do this for her."
"Yes, but you can't. Believe me, I checked. The laws are slightly foggier about couple's insurance, but even there…." Raoul shook his head, even though he knew Erik couldn't see it. "Maybe that could work, legally speaking. But it would look very suspicious later if the matter is investigated."
"And we both know it will be. Alright, maybe we can trick her into signing it, perhaps with some sleight of hand trick. It'll have to be very simple, I imagine, because you'll need to do it."
"Can't you? You'll be there, after all." That point had already been agreed on- Erik hadn't been willing to sit any part of this process out.
"No. That woman knows I have a talent for this sort of trick, and now she doesn't trust anything I've touched."
Raoul winced at the unfairness. The more Erik told him about his marriage, the more-well, maybe not exactly justified, but the more understandable his motivations seemed. "I'm sorry for that."
"Don't worry about me, sweetheart." The nicknames had been a recent and very welcome development. "After all, you'll have me out of here soon enough, won't you?"
"Yes. Of course." Raoul smiled into the phone. "But what will we do about the signature?"
"I've been thinking about that, and I believe I have a solution."
"Fast worker."
"Thank you, darling. Anyway, I think all you'll have to do is slide the auto insurance form over the accident insurance one, covering everything on that form except the signature line, and then just have her sign both. Tell her you need a duplicate for your files- that's something insurance people do, isn't it, Raoul?"
"Not usually, since we take the original copy with us anyway. But it sounds plausible. I think that could work."
"I do too. Oh, Raoul, do you think it's terribly wrong of me to be a little excited?" His voice was breathless over the line, like a teenage girl phoning her sweetheart.
"I really don't know, Erik." He answered honestly. "But you know, the other thing is, we'll need a witness."
"For the signing?"
"For me giving her the pitch, at least. Could you bring someone in, invite company over or something? Or call that maid of yours into the room?"
"I've already thought of someone." A strange, malicious sort of amusement fluttered just under Erik's voice, but they had already been talking so long (a risk, when each call meant Erik mysteriously absent from the house) that Raoul didn't pursue it.
That turned out to be a mistake when Raoul walked into the Dietrichsons' living room that Thursday night, and found out who Erik had selected as the witness: Antoinette Dietrichson's sixteen year old daughter, Meg.
It wasn't that there was anything concretely wrong about Erik choosing her. It was just that it felt wrong to have the girl sitting just across the room, swinging her legs restlessly and playing Chinese checkers with Erik while her mother quite literally signed her own death warrant. Raoul walked into the room, saw Meg sitting there, and flicked his gaze over to Erik. He raised his eyebrows as much as he dared: what the hell?
Erik just smiled back, pleasant and bland, and leaned forward to slot one of his pieces farther across the board. "Your move, Meg."
She considered the game, biting her lip and sneaking a quick glance back up at Raoul, who gave up and turned to greet Mrs. Dietrichson.
Although the photo of her he had seen before bore a near-perfect resemblance, seeing Antoinette Dietrichson (née Giry) in person was still surprising. Something about Erik's seemingly quite charitable descriptions had made Raoul picture her as ugly and wizened, a gray-haired matriarch towering over the room. But that description did not fit the gentlewoman lounging in an armchair on the far side of the Dietrichsons' parlor, and surveying Raoul with the same dark, intelligent eyes as her daughter. She was a small woman, not so much slight as compactly built, with elegant posture that spoke clearly of her profession as a dance instructor.
As Raoul crossed the room to meet her, she spoke. Her voice was hoarse, and sharp. "So, you're Raoul de Chagny, the salesman I've heard so much about."
"Have you, ma'am?" Raoul offered his most charming smile, and tried not to feel as though he was meeting his girlfriend's mother.
"Or not you so much as insurance in general. For a solid week earlier this month, all my husband would talk to me about was accident insurance. Luckily, he seems to have dropped that silly idea."
"Well, 'if we bought all the insurance they can think up, we'd stay broke paying for it all,' right, honey?" Erik interjected with an air of quoting someone, assumedly his wife, with less than flattering intentions.
But Antoinette just arched her eyebrows, and held her husband's gaze until his smirk faltered, and he turned back to the checkerboard. "So. At any rate." Antoinette turned back to an already deeply uncomfortable Raoul. "You came here for the auto insurance, didn't you?"
"Right, yes. Your coverage runs out next week, and it would be a shame to see the policies lapse just because of one unsigned form. After all-"
Antoinette held up one elegant hand. "That's fine, Mr. Chagny. Don't strain yourself, I have no reluctance to renew the policies."
"Oh. Well, good." Raoul said, trying not to seem thrown off. He had counted on at least a few minutes of salesmanship, an opportunity to casually shuffle the papers in his hand so that the accident form was on the bottom. There didn't seem to be time for that now- Mrs. Dietrichson had already picked up a pen from the side-table, and was waiting impatiently.
Knowing he shouldn't, he glanced over at Erik, whose hands had stilled on the checkerboard. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked. Mrs. Dietrichson's eyebrows began to lift again.
Raoul cleared his threat just to break the silence, and recovered his lines as best as he could. "Still, there's, uh, something else you might be interested in hearing about, Mrs. Dietrichson."
She waited.
"We at Pacific All-Risk have been making a few changes to our accident coverage lately, and we've got a nice little package put together."
"Well, that's very nice for you." Mrs. Dietrichson responded quellingly. "However, my profession is hardly high-risk. I am a dance instructor."
"Still, you can't be too careful, ma'am." Raoul started in again, falling back on a well-worn spiel from the company handbook. "I always say that insurance is like a hot water bottle. It might look a bit useless and silly hanging there on its hook, but when you get a stomachache in the middle of the night, it sure comes in handy."
She clicked her tongue. "Now you want to sell me a hot water bottle."
Raoul was saved from having to find an answer for that by Meg Giry's impatient sigh. The girl tilted one skinny wrist, and examined her watch ostentatiously. "Erik, do you mind if we don't finish this game? It bores me stiff."
"Do you have other plans?" Erik asked. Mrs. Dietrichson clicked her tongue again, but said nothing.
Meg slung herself down from the chair she had been perched on. "Yes, I have. Mother, may I please go now?"
"Go where, and with who?" Her voice was just as dry as her daughter's was honey-coated.
"Oh, just Cecile Jammes. We're going roller skating."
"Cecile Jammes, that little fat girl from the school? And here I thought you might be meeting Lisa Sorelli." Erik commented seemingly off-hand, idly examining the buttons at his shirt cuff for smudges.
Mrs. Dietrichson's eyes narrowed at her husband's words. "It had better be Cecile Jammes, not that Sorelli woman, Miss Marguerite Dietrichson."
"Mother, I told you," Meg began, with the air of one who has suffered the most dreadful of aspersions cast on her spotless dignity, "I am meeting Cecile Jammes. We are going roller skating. I'm meeting her at the corner of Vermont and Franklin- the west corner, in case you're interested. And I'm late already, if you don't mind. I hope that's all quite clear." She tossed her head finely, and started for the door, throwing a few 'good night's carelessly over one shoulder.
Almost before the door swung shut behind her, Erik gave a quiet laugh. "Your daughter's a great little fighter for her weight."
His wife sniffed, unamused. "I wonder who she learned that attitude from."
"I think perhaps it was inherited." Erik retorted without missing a beat- this had the sound of an exchange they'd had before.
Raoul cleared his throat again, wondering if they remembered he was still in the room.
"Oh, don't you start in on me with the accident insurance again. I'm not buying any." Antoinette snapped.
"Well, that's alright, Mrs. Dietrichson. You can't blame a guy for trying. At any rate, sign here." Raoul slid the papers over to her.
"And what is this?"
"The application for your auto renewals, ma'am. This way, you'll be covered until the new policies come through."
"And when will that be?" She asked, reaching for her pen.
"The middle of next week, I'd say."
"Good. Just as long as I'm covered when I drive up North." She fixed her eyes on Raoul as though she was waiting for him to ask, so he did. "Going to San Francisco?"
"Palo Alto, Mr. Chagny, Palo Alto."
"She goes to her class reunion every single year." Erik broke in, still studying his buttons.
"And what's wrong with that?" Mrs. Dietrichson snapped.
"Oh, nothing. I suppose one of us has to be able to leave the house every now and then."
"Erik, please!" It was the first time Raoul had heard her say her husband's name, and it sounded almost wrong in her mouth. "We've had this discussion."
"We certainly have, Antoinette." He cut his eyes at Raoul as soon as his wife wasn't looking, and Raoul saw his cue.
"Ma'am-"
"Alright!" She cut him off, red spots of anger riding high on her cheeks. "Where do I sign?"
"Here, at the bottom. And…"
Erik audibly sucked in a breath, but between anger and distraction, his wife clearly didn't notice.
"And, both copies, please." Pulse beating down into his fingertips, Raoul carefully slid the top paper up just enough to reveal the second signature line.
"Why should I sign twice?"
"One is the agent's copy." Raoul recited his line. "I need a duplicate for my files."
"Duplicates, triplicates…" But she signed.
Raoul heard Erik let out his breath in a soft sigh, barely audible over the scratching of the pen. For a moment, Raoul felt as though it was his life, not Antoinette's, hanging in the air of the Dietrichsons' living room. For a moment, he wanted to grab the pen away from her, wanted to stop her, wanted to end this.
He didn't move. But maybe something showed briefly on his face, because he felt Erik's eyes on him for the rest of the evening.
"No hurry about the check. I can pick it up some morning."
"And how much will that be, exactly?" She stood, smoothing her simple gray dress.
"One forty seven, ma'am." He stood with her. "I guess that's enough insurance for one night. Thank you for having me."
"Our pleasure, Mr. Chagny." Erik came over to stand by him. "Why don't I walk you out?"
"Thanks. Good night, Mrs. Dietrichson."
She nodded at him, then turned to her husband. "Erik, bring me some soda when you come up, alright?"
"Certainly, Antoinette." Erik's voice was smooth and unworried, and he led the way out into the foyer. There, he stopped Raoul with a hand on his arm, and mouthed wait.
Raoul waited, and they heard Mrs. Dietrichson's short footsteps tapping up the stairs, presumably to get ready for bed. Somewhere on the second floor, a door closed loudly. Erik turned to Raoul, clutching his arm. "Was that alright, Raoul?"
"Sure." Raoul chose not to mention his brief moment of indecision.
"She signed it, didn't she?"
"You saw her do it."
"Yes." He nodded. " Yes, of course. Oh, Raoul…!" Wordlessly, Erik clutched his arm tightly, almost painfully.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm relieved." He could hear the smile, the warmth in Erik's voice. "You're setting me free, darling."
The glow of those words followed Raoul all the way to his car- where it dissipated into confusion, and fear. Through the darkness of the descending spring night, Raoul could see a shadowy figure sitting in the passenger side.
There was someone waiting for him in his car.
