ONE: The Insurance Investigator
Goldman Mill — May 23, 2022
Paul Ritter had come to Glasshome Finance because he wanted someone to listen.
He was a widower, a respected pharmacist, and a man who had spent much of his adult life learning to keep his emotions under control. That afternoon, however, sitting across from Thomas Pax Gomez Euro, he was having difficulty doing so.
“My son did not kill himself,” Paul said.
Tommy had heard the sentence before. During his five years with the Goldman Mill Gardai, and later as an insurance investigator, he had learned that the certainty of a grieving parent was neither proof nor something to dismiss. Sometimes families understood things the first official account had overlooked. His responsibility was to listen and find out.
“Tell me about Myles.”
“He was twenty-four. He taught peace education, especially to children and young people. He helped them learn to resolve conflicts without violence. He believed people could do better, and he wanted to give them the tools to prove it.”
Paul looked down at his hands.
“He loved life. He had plans. He was happy. And he was worried about something when he came home from Texas.”
“When did he go?”
“May ninth. Dallas. He was working with a progressive organization, doing nonviolence training and supporting a peaceful demonstration. He came home a week later.”
“Did something happen while he was there?”
“He called me and said he’d discovered something troubling. He wouldn’t explain it completely. He wanted to be sure of his facts.”
“Did he mention any names?”
“The America First Christian Dominion Coalition. That’s the name I remember.”
Tommy wrote it down.
“Did he think he was in danger?”
“I asked him. He said he didn’t think so. But after he came home, he was distracted. He’d start telling me something and then stop, as though he were trying to decide how much he should say.”
“Did he leave notes?”
“I’ve been going through his papers. I don’t know what some of them mean.”
“We’ll look at them.”
Paul leaned forward.
“Mr. Euro, I know how this sounds. A father refusing to accept what happened to his son. But Myles would never have taken his own life. He believed in what we are trying to build here. He believed in being alive.”
Tommy closed his notebook.
“I can’t promise what I’ll find, Mr. Ritter. But I can promise I won’t accept an explanation simply because it’s convenient.”
Paul’s expression softened.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
—
Myles Pax Ritter had lived in his own small flat at Anwer-Farron Farm, where Nasir Arwen and Sage-Beth Farron grew sorghum and raised their children, four-year-old Molly and two-year-old Barney. Myles wasn’t a tenant in the ordinary sense. He was part of the family, sharing meals, helping with the farm, and taking an affectionate interest in the children.
Nasir had found him dead on the morning of May 20, after Myles failed to appear for breakfast.
The preliminary classification had been suicide by hanging, but the Gardai had continued examining the circumstances. Glasshome Finance had received a claim under Myles’s insurance policy, and the classification had implications for its handling. Kevin Glasshome, who had served in the Gardai himself, assigned Tommy to investigate.
Kevin had made the boundaries of the assignment plain before Tommy met with Paul. Their conversation took place with the claim documents open between them on Kevin’s desk. The death benefit was significant, and the wording of the policy made the cause of death relevant to how the claim would be handled. Paul was a grieving father, not an opposing party, and Kevin intended him to be treated with respect regardless of the outcome.
“We need an honest determination, Tommy,” Kevin told him. “If the evidence says suicide, we have to apply the policy as written. If it says homicide, we have to act on that instead. What I don’t want is a grieving parent made to feel that an insurance company would rather be right about paperwork than right about his son.”
“And if I find evidence of a crime?”
“It goes to the Gardai. You’re not there to investigate a murder on their behalf. You’re there to establish the facts relevant to the claim, and to pass along anything the police need to know. I’ve walked on both sides of that line. It’s easy to forget where it is when you care about the people involved.”
Tommy knew Kevin was right. He also knew himself well enough to suspect the reminder might become necessary.
Detective Jaronda Charles was leading the criminal inquiry. Tommy knew her well; they had worked together during his years in the Gardai, and their friendship had survived his move into insurance investigations.
She met him at headquarters with a folder and a familiar expression.
“You’ve been talking to Paul Ritter.”
“He came to Glasshome.”
“I thought he might.”
“What’s bothering you?”
“Several things. Sit down.”
She took a single page from the folder and put the rest aside. It was an authorized summary of the medical examiner’s preliminary findings, prepared for the insurer’s determination of the cause of death. The scene photographs, interviews, and other investigative material remained in the Gardai’s file.
“You get this,” she told him, tapping the page. “You don’t get the whole investigation. If you have evidence we haven’t seen, bring it to me. Otherwise we each do our own jobs.”
“Understood.”
Tommy studied the summary. “The rope mark doesn’t account for the deeper injuries.”
“No. The examiner found hemorrhaging in the neck muscles and injuries consistent with pressure from hands. The findings don’t fit the hanging described in the preliminary report.”
“Could there have been a struggle before he hanged himself?”
“We considered that. But the other findings don’t support it. The examiner believes Myles was already dead when the rope was placed around his neck.”
Tommy looked up.
“Somebody strangled him and staged a suicide.”
“That’s where the evidence is pointing. We still have to establish who did it.”
“Paul was right.”
“He was right to insist we look harder. That doesn’t mean we get to skip the evidence.” Jaronda paused, looking at the page in Tommy’s hands. “I wish I’d pushed harder on the discrepancy the day the first report came through. We hadn’t finished the examination, but I let that preliminary label sit there longer than I should have.”
“Jaronda, you were still investigating.”
“And Paul was still living with the word *suicide*. That’s not the same thing.”
Tommy had no clever answer for that. It was one of the things he respected about her: she did not save her strictest standards for other people.
He smiled.
“You haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you. You’re still going to ask questions I can’t answer.”
“Only the interesting ones.”
Jaronda closed the folder.
“Then here’s one. Why would somebody murder a twenty-four-year-old peace educator in his own home?”
Tommy thought of Paul’s face.
“I intend to find out.”
—
That evening, Tommy met Ari Lieber and Roger Davenport at Champions, the sports bar near Miller Stadium in Embassy District.
Ari, Goldman Mill’s Public Media Director and husband of Prime Minister Regina Goldman, had known Tommy since interviewing him in 2014 about his humanitarian work in Ukraine. Roger, who ran Mohandas Manufacturing, had been a friend and mentor since Tommy’s university days. Between them, the three men had accumulated enough shared experiences to dispense with formalities.
“Insurance investigation?” Roger asked. “I thought that job involved people exaggerating water damage.”
“It does,” Tommy replied. “Sometimes considerably.”
Ari shook his head. “You’ve always had a knack for finding trouble.”
“Trouble finds me. I’m approachable.”
“You certainly approach a dance floor like you own it,” Roger said.
“That’s because I usually do.”
Ari grinned. “Speaking of dancing, Roger, did you see who’s on *Strictly* this season?”
Tommy pointed at him. “Careful.”
Roger laughed. “Relax. Your secret’s safe with us.”
Tommy’s subscription to the BBC’s *Strictly Come Dancing* was a treasured guilty pleasure. He had taught fellow teenagers to dance during his Peace Scout years and had earned one of his Scout ribbons by teaching ballroom dancing to senior citizens at Peace Rose, a Goldman Mill residence. He still loved a good dance floor, but preferred to keep the extent of his television enthusiasm between trusted friends.
“Endie knows,” he said.
“Of course Endie knows,” Ari replied. “That woman knows everything about you.”
“Not everything.”
Roger raised an eyebrow.
Tommy took a drink. “And we’re leaving it there.”
They talked about Roger’s manufacturing contracts, Ari’s broadcasting schedule, and the extraordinary demands of public life that came with being married to Regina Goldman. Eventually Ari returned to the case.
“I interviewed Myles once,” he said. “Peace education for young people. Earnest, but funny. I liked him.”
“Paul’s devastated,” Tommy said.
“Understandably.”
“I’ve met parents who lost children before. It never gets easier to watch.”
Roger regarded him. “Don’t carry the whole thing by yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“You’ve got Jaronda?”
“Of course.”
“And Endie,” Ari added.
Tommy smiled.
“Especially Endie.”
When they parted, Tommy promised Roger they’d get together again soon.
“And tell Ari I’m buying the next round at Denton’s,” Tommy called after him.
Ari turned around. “I’m standing right here!”
“I know. Saves me a telephone call.”
He headed home to Oceanview Pier with the case on his mind and the familiar comfort of knowing he had people who cared about him.
Endie Connell, Goldman Mill’s Business Administrator and Deputy Mayor, was one of them. They had been together for more than a year, and he had no intention of letting a difficult investigation make him forget how fortunate he was.
He called her before bed.
“Hello, Angel.”
“Hello, darling. How was your evening?”
“Roger accused me of being a menace to the dance floor.”
“He’s a perceptive man.”
“I thought you’d defend me.”
“I’ll defend your character, Tommy. Your dancing speaks for itself.”
He laughed. They talked for nearly an hour about State Hall, her latest budget meetings, and the possibility of spending the following weekend together without a single official obligation.
Neither knew how far the Ritter investigation would take him.
Coming Next: Installment Two — A Father’s Certainty
Twenty-four-year-old Myles Ritter devoted his life to teaching peace. Someone apparently thought that was reason enough to end it. Now Tommy Euro is investigating a murder disguised as suicide, with precious little to go on beyond a grieving father’s conviction and a troubling trip to Texas. But Myles left behind people who knew him, loved him, and may remember something important. At a quiet Goldman Mill farm, Tommy’s search for the truth is about to become deeply personal.