========================================================================= Date: Fri, 19 Apr 1996 00:38:01 -0400 Reply-To: KaiSteph@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Steph Lutz Subject: Joe vs the Insurance Investigator (1//1) On the lighter side.... ;) All praises, flames and virtual haggis to KaiSteph@aol.com JOE VERSUS THE INSURANCE INVESTIGATOR By Stephanie Lutz Joe stood in the center of the room and scratched his beard as he surveyed his club. Or, rather what was left of it. The center was the only place clear enough to stand at the moment. With a loud sigh he gingerly pushed aside a mound of shattered glass with his cane, and made his way slowly toward the bar, where the overwhelming odor of mixed alcohol made his eyes water. A sudden fury rose inside him. Dammit! he swore, raising his cane and bringing it down on the bar with a resounding crack. The last piece of glass stuck to the light socket above him chose that moment to release its tenuous hold and enter free fall, striking him on the side of the head. Ouch, he said ruefully, temper fading. He heard the sound of a tentative throat clearing behind him, and the temper returned with vengeance as he pivoted to see MacLeod standing there with a sheepish look on his face, holding the katana loosely away from him as if he wasn t quite sure what to do with it. His shirt was sliced diagonally from shoulder to waist, revealing some dried blood on the unscarred flesh beneath. Joe, he began carefully. Dammit! Joe swore again. Well, it had made him feel better the first time. Sort of. MacLeod, you had him on his knees! You couldn t have dragged him outside before taking his head?? Joe, Mac tried again. I m sorry...heat of the moment, you know.... Yeah, yeah, Joe gave a disparaging snort and began the treacherous journey across the club floor to the band area, glass crunching under his feet as he sidestepped a live wire just in time - grateful for the rubber tip on his cane. My insurance covers theft, MacLeod - break-ins, fire, flood damage even. It does *not* cover Quickenings! Joe, I ll pay for it, I ll take care of everything, I promise. Fine - there s a broom in the back - get to work! Joe flung over his shoulder. And, he swiveled and waved his cane in the direction of the katana. Put that thing away. Wherever it is you keep it. With some difficulty and only one or two near wipe-outs, Joe reached his goal - the band area. The amplifiers were blown, but to his immense relief the Hummingbird s case was intact. Hefting it with one hand, he turned to make his way back across the crystal wasteland, when a sudden thought struck him. An icy chill shot up his spine. MacLeod! he shouted. Duncan emerged from the stockroom, meekly holding the broom in his hands. The insurance investigator is coming today! About the break in last week! My premiums are gonna go through the roof as it is - if they see this... Joe could hardly talk as he ran a frantic hand over his face and through his hair, cane swinging wildly from his elbow. When are they supposed to come? Duncan asked. 1:00. Joe looked at his watch. It was 12:50. I m dead. Stall him, Duncan said. I ll think of something. He gripped the broom in one of his fancy Japanese poses. Joe narrowed his eyes. Mac, you ve done enough killing on my property for one day! I m not gonna kill him, Joe! Duncan waved him toward the door. It had better be good! Trust me! Joe shook his head. I m dead, he muttered again, dragging himself out the door. He was just stowing the Hummingbird in the trunk of his car, when another car pulled in beside him. A nice, sedate, dark colored sedan, American- made and gleaming. Joe thought. He tore his attention from the car as the door opened and a woman stepped out, dressed in a dark blue suit and matching low heels. She reminded him of Andrea Hinson, which did not inspire confidence. Joe planted himself firmly in the path to the door, legs spread apart and leaning forward on his cane. Nice day! he said with a wide smile. The woman eyed him coolly. Mr. Dawson? That s me! He tried to stretch the smile a bit, turn on some of the ole Dawson charm. She walked over to stand directly in front of him, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement. She carried a slim leather attachi case in perfectly manicured hands, and stared down at him, even though she was a couple of inches shorter. I m Ms. Hanson, Joe blinked hard, From Phoenix Insurance. I believe we have an appointment? Nice to meet you. Joe stuck out a hand that was promptly ignored. The sun feels nice today, doesn t it? After all that snow.... he thought. Ms Hanson made an impatient sound. Mr. Dawson, I don t have all day. The security alarm please. Joe swallowed hard. Of course, right this way. At the risk of being repetitive, he thought one last time as he turned and walked to the entrance as slowly as possible, swinging his legs widely so she couldn t pass him, and emphasizing the cane. What the hell - the sympathy ploy couldn t *hurt*. He pushed open the door gently, and she brushed past him only to stop and stand still as her eyes rebelled against the sudden darkness. As Joe s eyes adjusted, he did a double take. The tables and chairs were pushed aside, and covered with one of the tarps from the original painting. The bar was likewise covered. There was no sign of shattered glass, presumably it was all under the tables as the broom lay to the side of them. Duncan stood in the middle of the floor, shirtless, and wearing a splattered painters cap which must have come from the same place as the sword. Joe thought, shaking his head slightly. Duncan walked toward them, his broadest smile in place - showing all his teeth - as he held out a hand to Ms Hanson. Hello, he said, letting just enough accent creep into his voice to be supposedly sexy. I m Duncan MacLeod, of the decorating company MacLeod. Ms Hanson raised an eyebrow and cast a skeptical glance around the place before fixing MacLeod with a stare that would have frozen lava. Doesn t look like you re doing that great a job. In spite of the situation Joe couldn t help a small smile of satisfaction at the look on MacLeod s face. Well, we haven t actually *started* the painting yet, Duncan explained. We re still experimenting with mixing colors to get exactly the right shade - isn t that right, Mr Dawson? Absolutely. Joe said fervently, then added to sound more convincing, you d better find it soon though, MacLeod. Duncan glared at him, and Ms Hanson cast another distasteful look around. She sniffed cautiously, and wrinkled her nose. What is that *smell*? Paint thinner. Duncan said quickly. Very important in the mixing process. I m sure it is, she said dryly, then turned to Joe. The security system, Mr. Dawson. This way. Joe reached out to take her arm, then thought better of it. Ms Hanson turned to follow him, when one of the live wires that had fallen behind the stair case picked that moment to toss a spark. Catching the flash of light out of the corner of her eye, Ms Hanson turned back, peering around the corner of the stairs. What was that? she asked. Nothing, Joe lied, giving MacLeod a glare almost as fierce as the woman s. he fumed inwardly, as this time he did take her arm. Ms Hanson shook his arm off angrily and grabbed the metal rail as she leaned forward to get a closer look. The wire sparked again, falling to touch the metal base of the stairs and she gave a short stifled scream as the electric current surged through her body. MacLeod sprinted to the side of the convulsing woman, reached out to grab her, and then thinking better of it pulled back his hand and looked questioningly at Joe. Yelling at him to call 911, Joe shoved Duncan out of the way, and used the tip of his cane to pry Ms Hanson s hand from the railing. She collapsed to the floor in a heap. Ignoring Joe, Duncan knelt beside her. I told you to call 911! Joe gasped, limping as fast as he could to the phone at the bar. Don t bother! Duncan called after him. Joe spun around, his face a mask of horror. She s dead? Not really, Duncan said. She s one of us. Joe s jaw dropped. An Immortal? He hurried back to MacLeod s side. Well, Duncan shrugged. She is now. Joe stared down at the new Immortal lying on his floor, shuddering at the thought of what had just been foisted upon the world. Well - maybe it wouldn t be so bad - after all her name didn t start with a K... but then they didn t know her *first* name.... Looks like your insurance problems are over - for now anyway, Duncan commented. A slow smile began to form on Joe s face. And it looks like your problems are just beginning, he replied. Duncan looked puzzled. What do you mean? Well, someone s gonna have to explain to her what she is, and she s gonna need a trainer. Now Duncan s face held a look of horror. Joe... The smile was full-size now as Joe turned away heading toward the bar. Don t look at me - I ve got a Watcher to recruit. And I d appreciate it if you d get her out of here before she wakes. MacLeod opened his mouth, closed it, and leaned over and swung Ms Hanson up into his arms. Oh, and MacLeod? Joe called as he reached the door. Duncan stopped and turned. Teach her to do her beheadings *outside*? The door slammed shut behind the immortals, and rocking with laughter Joe went to the back to turn off the power. Rubber tips or not, he was taking no more chances. The end.