The Mystery of the Invisible Insured
“Another wake,” groaned Bernie Silver. “What happened to that bygone era when our main social events were weddings?”
“You don’t have to be a private investigator to figure that one out,” his wife, Barb, retorted, referring to their partnership in the private detection agency, Silver Investigations. “Senior citizenship strikes again!”
“Who is it this time?”, he asked.
“James McCaffrey,” she replied.
“The Stanford anthropology prof.?” he queried. “Didn’t he die a year or so ago in the middle of nowhere?”
“New Guinea, to be exact,” she responded. “Apparently their mail service is worse than ours; it took a year to get the death certificate.”
“It takes longer when there’s no body,” he noted. “If memory serves, he disappeared like Michael Rockefeller did in the early ’60’s. Not a trace in an area with huge crocodiles and tribes that may or may not still be cannibals.”
She shuddered. “Luckily we’re safe at home in Silicon Valley. The main danger here is bloodless: high-tech monopolies.”
***
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Victoria,” said Barb as they entered the home of the widow of Professor James McCaffrey. “How are you managing?”
“It’s been a year now,” said Victoria, who was in her late fifties, “so the initial shock has passed. But Jim handled and generated all our finances, so that has been a struggle. Luckily, his sister from New York, Kathy,” a petite blond she pointed to across the room, “is a CPA. Because she’s also a widow, she has been able to move in here with me, which has been a great help.”
“What was Jim working on in New Guinea?” Bernie asked.
“He was writing a sequel to his best-seller, Alternative Asian Sexual Practices. He was looking into the customs of mbai and papitsj that are rumored to be a part of the culture of the Asmat people, who live on the Indonesian side of New Guinea. He never expected his first book about Hijra, Wakashu and Kathoeys to be a best-seller, but I guess sex sells. The success of the first book hasn’t helped ‘til recently, because the publisher would not release royalties to me without a death certificate.”
“Now that you mention it,” commented Barb, “I haven’t heard of many anthropology best sellers. His colleagues must have been thrilled for him.”
“Quite the opposite,” said Victoria. “Academics are suspicious of anything that’s popular. To them, it means that the work is not sufficiently serious. Jim was hoping that this second book would get him back in their good graces. Little is known about the Asmat people in the area of New Guinea that he was researching. He believed he was going to break significant new ground.”
“There must be some respect from his peers,” said Barb, “because it looks like half the anthropologists of America are here tonight.”
“Talk to a few of them, and you will detect the jealousy,” said Victoria. “Please get yourselves a drink at the bar we set up in the dining room.”
“Thanks, Victoria,” responded Bernie. “We will navigate through this sea of tweed sport coats and do just that.”
***
“I hope you won’t go into your usual social event antisocial act of heading to the nearest couch in a corner,” said Barb as they headed toward the bar.
“I love that corner couch they have here,” responded Bernie, “and that’s exactly where I’m headed. I’m sure someone interesting will take pity on me there and start a conversation. But you should feel free to show off your knowledge of maybe and papoose to any of these erudite folks.”
“Mbai and papitsj,” she corrected him, “but I think you have a point. Perhaps I will try that couch with you for starters. I was hoping you’d ask Victoria what those words meant.”
“I don’t have a clue,” he replied, “but I didn’t think it was the time to take a deep anthropological dive into concepts that will never have anything to do with us.”
***
Shortly after they sat down, Bernie spotted Jim McCaffrey’s sister, Kathy, heading toward them purposefully. “I told you someone would take pity on us,” said Bernie under his breath to Barb as he stood up and extended his hand to Kathy Stone. “So sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”
“Indeed,” she responded. “The fact that they never found Jim’s body combined with the hellish way we’ve been treated by Jim’s insurance company has made it a horrific year.”
“What insurance company is that?” inquired Barb.
“Quite frankly, that’s why I came over to meet you. It’s Alpha Insurance Company, and Vickie told me you both used to work there.”
“That’s true,” said Barb. “We have good feelings about Alpha because that’s where we met, but we know that insurance companies are much better at collecting premiums than at paying claims.”
“They’ve dragged things out for a year,” complained Kathy, “and there’s no end in sight. Vickie would never say anything to you, but, as her sister-in-law and financial adviser, I was hoping it would be appropriate to ask you for help. Until now, we were pretty helpless, but, with the royalties from Jim’s book finally coming in, we can invest some of those in a lawyer if we don’t get results from Alpha soon.”
Barb gave Bernie a knowing look and said, “We can’t make any promises, Kathy, but we will at least try to find out for you what the hang-up is.”
“Thank you so much,” said Kathy. “My opinion of insurance companies has gone up already.”
***
“Do you want to contact Al Jordan,” asked Barb in the car on their way home, “or should I?” Jordan was their former supervisor at Alpha.
“You were the one who volunteered,” he answered, “so you own it. Before you make the call, you might want to check out the meaning of mbai and paptisj. I have a feeling we might not want to get too involved with those.”
“Ok,” she responded. “In the meantime, why don’t you order Alternative Asian Sexual Practices to bring us up to date on Hijra, Wakashu and Kathoeys?”
He smiled: “Be still my beating heart.”
***
“Quiet, Snowbie,” Bernie futilely commanded their rescue dog, Snowball, as she gave her usual wildly barking greeting to the Amazon delivery person early in the morning two days later. “Amazon,” Bernie thought as he approached the door. “That might be a piece of cake compared to Jim McCaffrey’s final destination.”
He opened the package and quickly perused Alternative Asian Sexual Practices. He padded into the breakfast room, and asked Barb, “Are you sure you still want me to read this?” He displayed the cover, which showed a stunning Asian woman in an evening gown.
“Are you sure you ordered the right book?” Barb asked.
“Yep,” he said, “and now I see why it’s so popular. “The cover pictures a Kathoey, what they call transgender women in Thailand. Apparently they’re quite the rage, with their own beauty contest every year called Miss Tiffany’s Universe. What you’re looking at is the winner from two years ago. Hijra is an Indian variety of this gender fluidity and Wakashu is the Japanese flavor.”
“Well, that’s quite tame,” she said, “compared to what I’ve learned about mbai and papitsj in my research the past two days.”
“I’m on the edge of my seat.”
“Well,” she responded, “mbai is a long-term ritual sexual friendship between males. Among other things, these men share their wives, which is called papitsj.”
Bernie rolled his eyes: “I can’t imagine why Jim McCaffrey got in trouble asking primitive tribesmen about that subject…”
***
“Because…you’re…going…to…get…sued,” Bernie emphasized to Al Jordan, in response to the question why Alpha should send Barb and Bernie to Papua New Guinea to investigate the corpseless deceased, Jim McCaffrey.
“We get sued every day and twice on Fridays,” responded Al. “Why is this different?”
“Because you’ve been running this widow around for a year already,” intervened Barb, “and now she not only has a death certificate but also the royalties from Jim’s last book to pay for a lawsuit.”
“We’re not running anyone around,” Al said sharply. “One of our hot-shot sales agents thought he had a bonanza by selling a $10 million life insurance policy to a mild-mannered professor, and now it turns out that the professor’s research is in one of the most dangerous places in the world. How do you know about Professor McCaffrey, if I may ask?”
“We learned all this at Jim’s wake last week. We’re not best friends with the McCaffreys, but our kids went to school together, and we are very sympathetic to the widow’s plight. They trust us, which is more than I can say for their feelings toward Alpha.”
“Which is also more than I can say for Indonesian death certificates,” responded Al. “We have found over the years that many of the deaths they report are greatly exaggerated.”
“Can you prove that, Al?” asked Barb.
“Quite frankly, the investigator we sent down there is not making very good progress.”
“That’s the second reason you should send us,” said Bernie. “Elders.”
“What do elders have to do with it?” queried Al.
“For the Asmat people, which were the subject of Professor McCaffrey’s research,”answered Bernie, “elders are at the top of their hierarchy. If you’re investigator is younger than 60, the tribal leaders will not give him the time of day.”
“Hmm,” said Al, “that might explain some problems we’ve been having. Let me run your proposal by some people and I’ll get back to you.”
“Remember our motto, Al,” Barb called over her shoulder as she and Bernie departed: “’Where age is an edge.’”
“Don’t you forget,” Al called after them, “that spears have an edge, and Asmat tribe elders don’t leave home without them.”
***
“I’ve got good news and bad news, Bernie,” Al announced on the phone the next day.
“I’ll take the good news first,” said Bernie, putting the phone on speaker and motioning for Barb to join the call.
“You’re going to Lorentz National Park, a 10,000 square mile World Heritage site containing most of the ecosystems of the world.”
“Great!” exclaimed Barb. “So, what’s the bad news?”
“Many areas of the park are unmapped and unexplored,” Al replied,
“and the Asmat people who live there may still engage in some headhunting and cannibalism.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have some stories to tell our friends, who just travel to places like London and Paris,” mused Bernie. “Do you have a native guide for us?”
“Yes, Eddy Diwali is an Asmat who was educated in the Indonesian capital, Jakarta, and who also speaks English. So he is a bridge between those very different cultures.”
“Any other advice,” asked Barb. “Dress code, for example?”
“I’ll email you a picture,” Al said. That will give you some hints what you’re in for.”
A moment later, Barb opened the picture in her email. It was a photo of Jim McCaffrey. He was wearing jeans, a wide-brimmed hat and a long-sleeved, light blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was crouching, with his arms crossed over his chest and his head bent, surrounded by a circle of semi-naked Asmat dancers.
***
Later that day, over dinner, Barb said to Bernie worriedly, “I think we might be in over our heads.
“And that can be a real problem,” he responded, “if headhunters are involved.”
She grimaced: “Headhunter humor was a lot more funny the day before yesterday, when our main problem was finding a parking spot at the mall. I’m not sure this is the assignment for us.”
“We can always bail out if need be,” he consoled, “but first let’s follow our three rules of successful investigation: preparation, preparation and preparation. I actually have an old fraternity brother who heads Freeport Minerals’ huge mining operations in New Guinea, so I will call him. Why don’t you do some research on the Asmat people?”
“OK,” she agreed. “But don’t buy our plane tickets yet.”
***
As the small propeller-driven Garuda Airways plane touched down at the Jayapura airport in New Guinea after a rough flight from Jakarta, Barb had a tight grip on Bernie’s arm. “I see why the Indonesians call Garuda’s planes flying coffins.”
“As long as they’re flying, we’re ok,” he noted through clenched teeth. “It will be good to see Chip after all these years.”
He was referring to his old fraternity brother, Chip Rolen, who was a vice-president of the Freeport Mining Company’s sprawling operations in New Guinea. Tall, lanky and sandy-haired, Chip awaited them just a few feet from where the plane landed.
“How’d you get out here on the tarmac?” asked Bernie while giving Chip their old fraternity handshake.
Motioning to an Indonesian official visible through a glass door leading into Sentani Airport, Chip said, “As the VP of Freeport here, it’s important that I have an excellent relationship with Hasan over there. He knows everybody who goes into and out of this place.”
“Selamat malam, Tuan dan Nyonya Silver,” Hasan greeted as they passed him.
“He just wished you a good evening,” translated Chip.
“Doesn’t he want to see our papers,” inquired Barb.
“Let’s just say that any friend of mine is a friend of his,” noted Chip. “One of the reasons is that nice new Land Rover of his you’ll see in the parking lot. He’s very appreciative.”
“He also got you a room tonight at the best hotel in town, which was not easy because there’s an anthropologists convention here this week.”
“The Ritz Carlton Jayapura?” asked Bernie hopefully. “We’ve been on planes for the last 24 hours.”
“You’ll have to settle for the Puncak Jaya Hotel, which is actually named after a mountain in the area you’ll be visiting. It has electricity and hot water, and, with a little luck, both will be working today. Most important, it has a charming bar, with the best gin-and-tonics this side of Jakarta.”
***
As they started nursing their drinks, Chip turned serious: “I assume you have a satellite phone.”
Bernie took from his backpack a phone with the dimensions of a brick and handed it to Chip, who started tapping its keys. “I’m putting in your contacts an emergency number we use at Freeport when our people are in remote areas,” Chip said. “One click and a helicopter will pick you up within an hour.”
“Thanks, Chip, but I doubt we’ll need it,” Bernie responded. “We’ve researched this situation extensively, and we have a plan that will get us in and out of Otsjanep in two days.”
“Otsjanep?” Chip’s face darkened. “You realize that that’s the last place Michael Rockefeller was seen alive.”
“Yes,” responded Barb. “We think that that is one of the reasons that the subject of our investigation, Professor James McCaffrey went there. He wanted to deal with people who had had some exposure to foreigners, and there have been a number of foreigners there looking into Rockefeller’s still-unexplained disappearance.”
“So that’s the last place McCaffrey, like Rockefeller, was seen alive?” asked Chip. Seeing Barb and Bernie’s affirmative nods, he added, “Let’s just make sure that you’re not added to that list. Tell me about this grand plan of yours.”
“Can we hold that ‘til the morning?” Bernie asked, yawning. “I can assure you, though, that we’ve covered all the contingencies.”
“OK,” said Chip skeptically, “but, between the primitive natives and the saltwater crocodiles, all you can expect in that little-known part of the world is the unexpected.”
“Saltwater crocodiles?” Barb asked, arching her eyebrows.
“20 feet long and 3000 pounds,” responded Chip as he rose from the table. “Sweet dreams.”
***
“Bet you’ve never had fried rice for breakfast,” Chip greeted Barb and Bernie the next morning.
“And now I know why,” grumbled Bernie with a thumbs-down gesture.
Sitting down on the front of his chair, Chip said, “I’m literally on the edge of my seat waiting to hear your grand plan.”
“Ok,” said Bernie. “I think I can wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Go for it.”
“We believe Jim McCaffrey was murdered.”
Chip did stop smiling: “Might I inquire about this little thing called evidence?”
“I thought you might ask that,” responded Bernie, taking out a photo that had been enlarged to 18 by 24 inches. “This is a photo of the Asmat tribesmen interviewed by the first investigator Alpha Insurance sent down here.” The photo contained the images of half a dozen semi-naked tribesmen carrying spears. They were adorned with feathers of various colors hanging from belts and strings around their bodies, and they werecovered with varying degrees of some form of body paint.
Chip looked closely, then said “This seems normal for the Asmat; nothing to look at here, folks.”
“Look again,” said Bernie, holding a magnifying glass over the feathered belt of the largest tribesman.
“That doesn’t look like a feather,” observed Chip. “I’ll give you that. What is it?”
“A piece of a blue work shirt,” said Barb.
Having seen the picture on Barb’s phone of McCaffrey in a blue work shirt, Chip rocked back in his chair, stunned. He then inspected the picture again more carefully with the magnifying glass. After pausing to process for a minute, he said, “I think you’re right about foul play. But isn’t that a reason not to go there?”
“That’s where my research comes in,” interjected Barb.
“I’m all ears,” said Chip.
***
“First,” started Barb, “I will have to dress as a man and I will use the name Bart Daley. Given the strong Asmat patriarchy, the male elders would not even deal with Bernie if they saw him treating me as an equal.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” observed Chip. “Since you’ve apparently done your research, I take it you’ve heard of papitsj.”
“In a roundabout way, that’s what brought us here,” observed Bernie. “That’s one of the things Jim McCaffrey was studying.”
“He would have been better off, and a lot safer, researching the sex lives of Stanford undergraduates. I can assure you that that subject would be as difficult for Asmat people to understand as it is for us to understand papitsj,” noted Chip drily. “But, getting back to the subject at hand, Barb, having a disguise is just the ticket to the dance. What then?”
“My research shows,” Barb continued, “that the Asmat people believe that everything beyond their experience comes from a spirit world. For example, they call airplanes opndettaji, a passing-over-canoe-of-the-spirits. They believe white people, like Michael Rockefeller, Jim McCaffrey and us come from a land beyond the sea—Safan—which is the same place spirits live. And they believe that the dead are jealous of, and want to cause problems for the living.”
“I think I see where you’re going with this,” said Chip. “You might just pull it off, but don’t lose that number I gave you for helicopter transport out if you get into a jam.”
***
Eddy Diwali was a slender man with a pencil-thin mustache. He wore khakis and a batik shirt in shades of red and brown. “Tuan Silver and Tuan Daley, selamat datang, welcome,” he greeted, ushering them into a helicopter Alpha had rented for their trip to Otsjanep. “I am so sorry about Professor McCaffrey.”
“You knew him?” asked Bernie.
“Oh, yes. I provide guide services for most foreigners going into this area. Also, because I know Jakarta well, the professor would send me there for errands, like getting government permissions to go to certain areas.”
“What will your role be with us?” asked Barb a/k/a Bart.
“I am from Otsjanep, but, because the missionaries saw something in me, I was able to go to school in Jakarta. I have many relatives in Otsjanep, including my nephew, Kokai. You will be staying in his house, but he won’t bother you. He speaks no English. I will be your translator, and I will tell you a bit about the culture. First thing, don’t be too shocked when we meet the elders. They will not be wearing suits and ties.”
***
They dropped their backpacks at a house on stilts with a thatched roof and four bare rooms. Kokai, wearing only a loincloth, smiled at them, but said nothing.
Eddy took them to the long house, where the elders, all men, lived and performed various ceremonies. He went in and several minutes later came out, followed by five elders.
Barb and Bernie had seen pictures of the elders, but the in-person experience was much more intense. The headdresses, body paint, feathers, beads, spears, shields and noses pierced with bones combined to overwhelm the senses.
“Truly noble savages,” Barb whispered to Bernie as the elders approached.
“Remember,” he whispered back, “we look as strange to them as they do to us.”
Eddy made the introductions of the Silvers to the chief, whose name was Amates. Eddy also presented the elders with some tobacco and cigarette paper as a gift from the Silvers.
Amates made some guttural sounds, which Mochtar translated as words of welcome, of thanks and of inquiry as to how he could help them.
“We come from beyond the sea,” said Bernie. “And we bring greetings from our friend, Professor McCaffrey.”
Amates’ response was a blank stare, followed by more guttural sounds. “He thanks you again for your gift,” translated Eddy, “but he says that he does not have much of a memory of Professor McCaffrey. He says Professor McCaffrey spent most of the time with the women.”
“Ask him if this jogs his memory,” said Bernie, holding out a scrap of light blue cotton cloth that he had cut from a work shirt before leaving the U.S. “Tell him that Professor McCaffrey asked us to give it to him.”
Eddy gazed at the cloth with some consternation. Then he gingerly took it from Bernie and translated Bernie’s question. Amates refused to touch the cloth, and he began consulting excitedly with the other elders.
After a few tense minutes, Amates spoke to Eddy, averting his eyes from Bernie and Barb. “He says it is late now,” translated Mochtar, “and they would like to show this cloth to some of the other elders tonight and meet again with you in the morning.”
Having little choice, Bernie agreed with Amate’s suggestion. Then Bernie, Barb and Eddy returned to Kokai’s hut.
“Kokai and I will go out to catch some fish for our dinner tonight,” said Eddy. “We will be back in about two hours.”
***
About 90 minutes later, Kokai came running wildly back to the hut. “Eddy dead, Eddy dead!” he kept screaming, holding up the remains of a red and brown batik shirt. “Crocodile, Crocodile!”
Bernie and Barb exchanged nervous glances. Bernie pulled out his satellite phone and dialed the number that Chip had given them. An hour later they were in the air headed back to Jayapura.
***
“Back early, I see,” said Chip the next morning at breakfast. “Didn’t like Lorentz National Park?”
“I think we prefer Yosemite,” responded Bernie. “And we are headed back to California today.” They then recounted their escapade.
“Don’t you think you should report Eddy’s death to the authorities?” Chip asked.
“We are as sure that he’s alive, Chip, as we are that Kokai doesn’t know the English words ‘dead’ or ‘crocodile,’” answered Barbara.
“She’s right,” added Bernie. “You can be sure there’s no Webster’s Dictionary in his house or in all of Otsjanep. That’s what tipped us off that we had to get out of Dodge.”
“That, plus the remnants of the batik shirt,” said Barb. “Its appearance so soon after we used the remnant from Jim’s blue t-shirt was just too pat. Also, it was torn more neatly than a saltwater crocodile would have done. But the whole charade opened my eyes to Eddy’s game, and how he played it with Jim. I think I can prove out my theory if you do us a favor before we head out.”
“Anything for my old fraternity brother, Beer Bong Bernie,” said Chip.
“When we arrived,” Barb continued, “you mentioned that your customs official friend, Hasan, knows everyone who comes and goes to and from Jayapura.”
“So you would like to know whether Jim McCaffrey left here headed for the U.S. about a year ago?” interrupted Chip.
“No,” said Barb. “We’d like to know whether Kathy Stone left here about a year ago, headed for Bangkok.”
***
“I didn’t expect you’d be back so soon,” said Victoria McCaffrey guardedly as she opened her front door for Barb and Bernie.
“Wild goose chases are shorter these days,” said Barb.
“I hope that doesn’t mean that you found nothing,” said Victoria nervously, ushering the Silvers into her den.
“Quite the contrary,” said Barb. “Is Kathy around?”
“She went back to New York for a few weeks,” answered Victoria, “but we don’t need her to resolve this.”
“No,” said Barb. “But we need Jim, and we know that he’s with her, or, rather, that he is her.”
Victoria reddened, and then started weeping. “I told Jim that this was crazy,” she sobbed. “But then our whole lives have been crazy since he admitted three years ago that he felt that he was a woman inside a man’s body. That…that was probably why he did the research for Alternative Asian Sexual Practices.”
“Yes,” said Barb, “that was the first clue. ‘Kathoey,’ as in Thai transgender sounds a lot like ‘Kathy,’ as in Kathy Stone. But why did you and Jim stay together once he admitted this to you?”
“It’s complicated. At first, I was angry, but then I realized you can’t be angry at someone for what he is. And I started to understand the pressures he’d been under his whole life to live as what he considered to be an impostor. Finally, he got depressed and we just couldn’t go on anymore, but there was one big problem.”
“Let me guess,” said Bernie: “Money.”
“With a capital ‘M,’ continued Victoria. “Not only had Jim always been our breadwinner, but his earning power once he came out of this closet was questionable at best. Then Jim came up with this scheme, which is both hare-brained and brilliant. Researching in New Guinea means he’d be away, without suspicion, for long periods of time. And he could live as a woman there, with no one the wiser, and eventually arrange for a sex change operation in Bangkok. ”
“Now that we know the background,” said Barb, “the rest is really simple. Jim understood that the dangers of New Guinea were fairly commonly known since the disappearance of Michael Rockefeller. So it wouldn’t lack credibility if he disappeared there too. Eddy was a good partner in crime for him because Eddy operated both in the Asmat world and in Jakarta, where he would have access to documents like false passports. The Asmat elders were basically puppets in the scheme, manipulated by Eddy, whom Jim had promised a cut of the $10 million insurance proceeds. The rest would enable Jim/Kathy’s sex-change operation in Bangkok and living expenses for the rest of your and Kathy’s life. Did you plan to keep living together?”
“I don’t honestly know. Once you’ve lived with someone for thirty years, it’s not quite as important what sex they are.”
***
“Here’s the deal, Al,” said Bernie. “Victoria McCaffrey will withdraw her life insurance claim on Jim McCaffrey if no questions are asked.” Barb and Bernie were in Al Jordan’s office for what Al thought was going to be a report on findings from their investigation in New Guinea.
“I don’t like the smell of this,” responded Al. “Why should I not sue her for insurance fraud?”
“You’ve just broken the ‘no-questions-asked’ part of the deal, Al,” said Barb, “so I presume your curiosity is worth $10 million.”
“OK, no more questions,” Al hastened to say. “Just tell me how you did it.”
“The insured was invisible in plain sight,” said Bernie. “We can say no more.
