This was a good job. Melanie was sure of it.

Not everyone liked working for an insurance company, but she did. She enjoyed figuring out what happened, checking if the insurance covered the accident, or if it even was an accident. The researching and the investigating that went into the cases secretly made her feel like a real detective.

That was mostly because they didn't do healthcare, so she didn't have to feel guilty when she told them that their insurance didn't cover stuff. It gave her a warm, satisfied feeling whenever she told some fat cat their yes, their Jaguar was insured, but not for their (spoiled, bratty and probably drunk) teenager wrecking it.

Of course, certain kind of trouble came with the job. From clients dying before they could pay up, to the damage they didn't know how to write up - like these photos on the screen in front of her.

Wall-Marts. Dang.

She really wished the woman on the other side of the line would stop droning about how they should collect insurance from this… incident.

"…we paid good money for that insurance, goddammit!" She touched the golden cross Pat gave her for last Christmas. It was sinful to take God's name in vain.

``As I already said, Ms, Dublin-"

"Devin, ma'am," the woman on the other end snapped. Melanie plowed on.

"There is no indication that this was caused by anything else other than vandalism, and in your policy it clearly states that you are obliged to provide some sort of proof, like video recordings, that your store was indeed vandalized." She shifted in her office chair. They should invest in bigger chairs; this one was too narrow to sit comfortably in.

"Lady, you come survey it or whatever and then tell me it wasn't!"

This was undoubtedly a black woman speaking. Not that she had anything against the blacks, some of her best friends were black, but did they really have to talk like that? It was disrespectful how she enunciatedthe first word. Enunciate. Word of the day, from her calendar - to articulate, pronounce, to make sounds clearly.

Too bad there were so little people like Mr. Marcone. Other people at the office said he was a gangster, but she thought they must have been listening to rumors, because he was a real gentleman, even sent her flowers once, never filed complaints or anything when she had to tell him something wasn't covered in the insurance. Funny how many cars got stolen from his company – and those thieves would burn in Hell for ever, because it was just evil to steal a car and then blow it up, especially from such a nice man.

"…I don't see what else it could've been. There was this stinky goop all over the place! Took us…"

Oh, look, it was five already. Thank the Lord, now she can have Constance deal with this.

"I'm sorry, but my shift is ending, I'll connect you to another operator, goodbye and thank-you-for-trusting-Astor-Insurances." She buzzed Constance.

"Yeah, Mel?"

"I'm going home, I'm sending my last case over to you, she's on line three."

"Aww, come on Mel, I was hoping for clocking off early, it's our fifth anniversary-``

"It will be a good learning experience." And living in sin didn't need an anniversary.

She grabbed her bag and went home.

Thus she missed Constance (Connie to her friends) saying to the door:

"Thanks a lot, you fat cow. Lazy bitch."

Luke, currently finishing up on his paperwork at the other side, popped his bald head up over the edge of the cubicle and said:

"You mean Fat Holy Cow. Moo." It was lame, but she grinned anyway.

"Moo and amen."

He chuckled before he ducked back to paperwork. Why couldn't he be the boss? He was nice, plus he knew this job in and out.

She took the call and first spent a few minutes pacifying the enraged woman on the other end. Her job sucked.

Soon as she had enough for her last year at MIT she'll be out of here like a shot. Just two grand to go…

"Alright, ma'am, hold on, I'll have to confer with someone smarter than me on this one."

"Sure, I got nothing else to do." Ms. Devin sounded relieved, probably because she wasn't talking to the Holy Cow of the Large Floral Prints Church.

"Hey,Luke? I got fire damage, breakage and goo, plus one missing chainsaw. Sighting of a tall guy in a coat with a stick, busted cameras. Is that vandalism or robbery?"

Luke leaned over the edge of the divide again, eyebrows raised. She quickly relayed the details.

"They didn't hire anyone named Dresden, right? 'Cause if they did you'll have to tell her we're upping the insurance."

She didn't know the name.

"He's on the danger list?"

There was an actual list of people and places that meant trouble. On it were, oddly enough, an entire department of the CPD, some lady with a weird name that was probably a Madam, a couple of clubs she never came near, some P.I. that was probably a hitter for Gentleman Johnny… beside the usual rich and reckless like the Raith family.

"Uh-uh. For the last couple of years at least. Since the thing in the SI building, you know, with the wild dogs attacking and a bunch of holes in the walls?"

She asked.

"She says no."

There were clicks from the other side, probably Luke checking policy and the reports.

"Okay, so you just put in vandalism and faulty wiring. But tell her damaged items aren't covered."

The woman hemmed and hawed, but agreed in the end, probably knowing she couldn't win.

Later, Luke walked her to the car, as usual. Every evening he insisted that he walked her to her car, saying it was a dangerous town for a little-bitty lady like her. They usually spent the way to the lot making up wild stories about what happened to cause the damage.

"Hey, what do you think really happened?"

He shrugged.

"Probably just some kids with water balloons full of some funky stink-bomb stuff. That stuff's usually flammable, and a lot of kids smoke these days. Panicked when it started burning and lit out."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. That was oddly sane explanation out of him. Usually he'd say something about Martians shop-lifting and parking badly.

"Really?" He gave her a long look. Then he grinned.

"Nah. Probably closet monsters that melt in the morning."

She laughed. They spent the rest of the way to the car discussing favorite monster movies.


Disclaimer: See the previous chapter. You twit.