Tapping the pencil against his long teeth, Adler stared through the glass door into the maroon regions of his outer office. Ten days, and still William Leroy Fereman had not come in for a policy. It was beyond incomprehensible. Had Adler not done his job magnificently? Had Fereman not seen Life now at its worst and most unpredictable? Could he not feel how the wheels of Fate worked to grind a man into dust just when he thought he was safe?

It had been so long since Adler had misjudged a prospect that he had almost forgotten what it was like, and the feeling was not pleasant, no, not pleasant at all. He sighed. It was not just the time he'd put in on this one, but also the fact that Fereman was showing unsuspected hints of steel beneath his rabbitlike exterior, making him a possible candidate for the next step beyond the mere purchase of a policy.

No, he would not allow this one to slip away. There were still certain measures that could be taken, important lessons that the obstinate Mr. Fereman could learn.

His lips made a long thin smile.

Anna Fereman Garney, older sister of William Leroy Fereman, lived with her husband, Phillip, and their three teenaged children just outside Kansas City. Ordinarily, Adler disliked traveling, but, determined to land this account, he arrived in the prosperous outlying community of Overland Park about two hours after sundown.

Parking the long black car half a block away, he walked back toward the Garneys' spacious two-story home, observing it out of the corner of his eye. A ghastly orange Volkswagen bug, painted with rolling blue waves, was parked to one side of the driveway, most likely belonging to one of the teenagers. The elder Garneys' transportation must be inside the two-car garage.

The house across the street from them was dark and had several newspapers scattered in the curving driveway; obviously the occupants were elsewhere, so he slid into the shadows of its covered porch to wait. Sitting in a lawn chair, he nodded to himself. He should have plenty of time to conclude his business with the Garneys and still make it home at a decent hour. Except for the boring drive from Lawrence, this job was actually easier than the last, with only one insurance company to parley with, instead of two. Fortunately, K.C. Star Surety Insurance had been quite willing to cooperate, but then it was only professional courtesy after all. Eventually, his brother-agent at K.C. Star would desire a similar favor, and it would be returned. There were no losers here. It was to everyone's benefit to cancel the Garneys' car insurance just before the coming accident.

At that moment, the Garney's garage door opened and a dark-blue Ford Tempo hummed out, backing swiftly down the driveway, then out into the street. Noting their direction, Adler walked back to his car and followed them, confident of their destination. As this was Wednesday, the Garneys should be en route to the High Steppers, their square dance club, over in Shawnee.

Having familiarized himself with the map, he soon caught up, sliding his black sedan in neatly behind the Tempo, then studying the two Garneys in the car ahead. The woman was short and thin; her profile, backlit by the oncoming headlights, reminded him of Fereman. The man was stocky and fairly tall. By the short, punchy motions of their arms and heads, he judged them to be arguing about something--and they had neglected their seat belts, the perfect couple, actually. As the two cars left the suburbs and swung onto the divided highway, Adler stepped on the gas.

When the two bumpers clunked together, Garney glanced over his shoulder and said something. Adler nodded back pleasantly, then accelerated harder, using his big black car to push the Tempo toward the coming overpass. Garney began to apply his brakes, making his car squeal and fishtail, and he was now shouting back at Adler.

Adler merely smiled, conscious of what a blessing it was to have found his niche in society. He jammed his foot down on the gas, pressing the reluctant Tempo harder and harder, then just as the overpass loomed ahead, he twisted the wheel hard to the right, slammed on the brakes, and watched the dark-blue car plunge through the guard rail, cartwheeling against the supporting side embankment to land with a rending shriek of twisted metal on its roof in the middle of the railroad tracks below.

Two hours after the 4:00 P.M. double funeral, both Garneys having been laid to rest in Lawrence where they had grown up, Adler returned. It was raining out of a low, sullen sky, actually a rare occurrence for this time of year in Kansas. Still, it lent a nicely somber air to the occasion.

The doorbell rang out with the same, unmelodic clang he had noted before. The door swung open and a chunky girl of perhaps fourteen thrust her head through. "Yeah?"

Most likely one of the Garney teenagers, he thought. Perhaps the three children would move in with the Feremans, an unexpected bonus. "Might I see your uncle?" he asked.

"Uncle Bill?" She shoved a pair of oversized glasses back into place on her nose. "He's busy right now."

"Aren't we all?" he murmured and stared straight into her myopic gray eyes, looking deeper and deeper until he found the bottom of her all-too-shallow soul. No, this one lacked Fereman's potential. She was far too stupid to be truly insecure.

"Your uncle?" he repeated softly, and she blinked.

"Yeah." She ran a hand back through her nondescript hair. "In--here."

Adler pulled his hat off, then clasping it to his chest, followed her into the crowded house. Inside, mourners were jammed into every cranny, talking in quick semi-hushed tones and devouring the post-funereal ham with a locust-like ferocity. A huge basket of white lilies had been placed in the small dining room, nearly blocking the door.

Adler drifted among the guests, sampling their conversation for future business opportunities. After ten or so minutes, he spotted his quarry in the kitchen, arranging chopped broccoli and cauliflower on a glass tray with hands that trembled so much he dropped half of the flowerets.

"I'm afraid that I must offer my condolences once again," Adler said from the doorway, then met the dishwater eyes as Fereman jerked around.

"It's sad, isn't it, that we have to keep meeting under these circumstances." Adler gazed around the moderately sized kitchen with its butcher block counters. "I was hoping that you would come back into the office so that we could conclude our business. But--" He smiled. "As you would not come to me, I have come to you."

"What do you--want with me?" His face white as a piece of old Tupperware, Fereman groped behind him for support. "Why do you keep--coming here, when you know I don't--" He hesitated, staring fixedly past Adler at the white lilies trailing across the dining room floor. "It's you--somehow--behind all this--isn't it?"

"No, it's Life." Adler's voice was ever so gentle now, the voice of a grandfather, a lover, a priest. "Life is always coming after you, trying to crush you down like this, but we don't want anything to happen to you. Insurance companies bet all of their assets that nothing bad will happen to you, otherwise they wouldn't make a profit."