Saving the Business
Chris and his wife Kat had moved to Irvington in 2008 and immediately fell in love with the neighborhood. Originally, Irvington was a suburban town east of Indianapolis. Founded in 1870, it covered more than 500 acres. Many of its residences and commercial buildings dated back 100 years or more. It felt like home.
They were tired of leaving the neighborhood to dine or meet friends on Mass Ave or Downtown. Chris and Kat opened a pub in 2013 on Washington Street, US 40, the National Road.
They named the pub the Link & Pin. Chris said they served “…modern, approachable pub food, with international flavors in a relaxed, casual setting.” The pub was immediately a hit.
Chris was an accomplished chef. His father was a rail engineer and away from home more than he was there. Chris adored his mother, especially in the kitchen. He watched, helped, and learned.
His first job as a teenager was as a dishwasher in a restaurant. He took the job so he could hang out in the kitchen. After high school, he went to culinary school. Later he worked his way up in Indy’s fine dining establishments.
But now, he faced losing it all. COVID-19 had shut his doors. He tried outdoor seating, but the narrow sidewalk and traffic didn’t help. The business was about to go under. It was heartbreaking. It was his and Kat’s baby.
The staff had become more than friends. They were family. Chris and Kat had become friends with their regular clientele.
Chris had one move that might delay closing until the vaccine could make an impact. Until the world turned right side up again.
He was going to sell his life insurance policy. He’d carried a $500,000 life insurance policy for more than ten years. He googled selling a policy. He checked reviews of companies that bought policies. He reached out to one that didn’t have bad reviews.
His policy was worth 20%, $100,000, but that’s not what he’d get. After taxes and fees, he’d come out with about 60K. It was enough to keep the Link & Pin open for three or four months, five if they were frugal. He decided to take the risk. He got online and arranged the sale.
*******
Chris liked to walk to the Link & Pin along Washington Street in the morning and watch the sunrise. The street traveled east and west. He’d stroll east and watch the Earth spin. Indy followed daylight savings time, so that meant in January, the sun didn’t come up until around 8 am.
Chris remembered in his younger days he’d be jogging, not walking. Regardless, the crisp cold air, light breeze, and the sounds of the city waking up always moved him. It was peaceful.
It always amazed him how many birds wintered inside the city. There were cardinals, robins, blue jays, and finches. The finches turned from their summer yellow to a subdued black, white, and gray.
All the birds fluttered about, looking for crumbs and sharing their songs. Pigeons owned the sidewalks and sparrows the trees. Chris had even seen geese crossing all four lanes on US 40!
Sometimes he’d head north on Emerson Ave, turn west on Michigan, and visit Ellenberger Park. It was calming to stroll around the park or sit on a bench and watch the squirrels. He decided to visit the park today.
As he walked east on Washington, he was suddenly hit from behind and sent sprawling to the ground. He sat up, looked around, and saw a bicyclist picking himself up from the sidewalk.
“Are you okay?”
Chris shook his arms and swiveled his head.
“Yes, I think so.”
“I am so sorry; I went to go around you and must have hit a patch of ice. There wasn’t even time to warn you. I really am sorry.”
“No harm, no foul.”
Chris put his hand out to shake hands then pulled back, remembering the virus. The rider laughed and introduced himself.
“My name is Mike. We can fist bump. I’d say nice to meet you, but …”
“I get it. Hard way to meet people. I’m Chris.”
Mike looked at Chris’s palms and said, “Ouch, that’s quite a scrape. Hang on a second.”
Mike went back to his bike and took a small bottle out of a side pocket.
“It’s a disinfectant spray. With the COVID, I always carry it. Like I say, better safe than sorry. Hold out your palms, and I’ll give them a quick spray.”
Chris said, “I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not that bad.”
Mike answered, “You never know where that COVID could be lurking.”
Chris placed his hand’s palms up, and Mike gave them a quick spray.
**********
Later that afternoon, Kat found Chris sprawled on the floor of the bedroom. The coroner said he died of an apparent heart attack. It was so unexpected.
Chris was only 48 years old and in good shape for a middle-aged man. Kat had never considered a life without Chris by her side. Now she was living that reality.
**********
The two businessmen met at a park bench in Indy on N. Meridian Street. Both men wore dark trench coats, hats, and masks.
“Hi Sam, how are you?”
“I’m fine, and you?”
“Good, better when the transaction’s complete.”
“Well, then you’re going to be great. Check your offshore account.”
Sam looked at his phone.
“Excellent, I see 100K in my account. Thank you.”
“No, thank you, Sam. So, Sam, may I ask how you did this one?”
“I used potassium chloride. It causes severe heart arrhythmias and mimics a heart attack. Then it breaks down into elements that occur naturally.”
“How did you inject it without authorities finding the needlepoint?”
“I didn’t. I sprayed it on a scrape on the palm of the target’s hand.”
“Well, the company thanks you and looks forward to working with you again. We can add $300,000 to the positive side of the ledger thanks to you, Sam.”
I saw a TV commercial from a business that bought life insurance policies and wondered how that worked. So, I jumped down that rabbit hole. I found that policy values averaged 20% of their insured amount and that the company profited from the death benefits.