“For insurance purposes, yes. It was appraised at two and a half million dollars. But that is our house, we live there, we raised our children there, we would never think of selling.”

“You’re aware, aren’t you, Mrs. Osbourne, that your husband owes Mr. Sussman a million dollars.”

“I am aware that Mr. Sussman is a speculator who bought that note for an absurdly low amount and now wants to grab his handful of flesh. My husband is a wonderful man, Mr. Carl, and I love him very much. But he is not the cleverest of businessmen, not as sharp, I am sure, as your Mr. Sussman. Anyone who lends my husband money does so at his own risk.”

I actually admired Mrs. Osbourne as she sat in our crummy little conference room and so bravely defended her husband’s standard of living. If I was in less need of my twenty-five percent share of Winston Osbourne’s cash I might have thought twice about what I was planning to do. But even after a second thought I would have continued. My investigation had uncovered information of which Mrs. Osbourne might not have been aware and of which I assumed it was my duty to apprise her.

“You own a property in Aspen, is that right, Mrs. Osbourne?”

“A condominium, yes. The children love to ski.”

“And that is in both of your names?”

“Of course.”

“And there is the property in Palm Beach.”

“Yes, but that is not ours. That is owned by Winston’s mother. Winston’s grandfather built it, it is a fabulous place, really. Have you been to Palm Beach, Mr. Carl?”

“No.”

“Where do you winter?”

“In front of the television.”

“I see. Well, the house in Palm Beach is not ours. We are permitted to use it, but when we are there we are guests. My understanding is that Winston’s mother has willed it to Winston’s brother, Richard.”

“So my patience would not be rewarded.”

“No, I’m afraid not. The entire family is aware of Winston’s current troubles. Whatever is to be left is being left to the children. Winston has made you an offer, has he not?”