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it and she filled me in. Evidently each one of the previous six directors of the California Highway Patrol had filed workers’ comp claims for disability in the final months of their respective terms in office, and every one of them was now drawing over one hundred thousand dollars a year in disability payments on top of their regular pension from their retirements. One of the ex-chiefs, she went on, whose inability to continue working at the Highway Patrol had been caused by a diagnosis of stress-induced hypertension, had taken over as the director of security at the San Francisco International Airport, a post that paid over one hundred fifty thousand dollars per year. Between his full pension from the Highway Patrol, the disability, and the new job, this hardworking law-enforcement officer was making nearly four hundred thousand dollars, much of it tax-free, all from taxpayer funds.
    â€œThat’s a good job,” I said.
    â€œIt’s a great job,” she replied. “And we’ve been hired to see that he gets a chance to lose it or at least the disability-pay part of it.”
    â€œAnd how do you find that out?”
    â€œMostly legal stuff. We depose witnesses who work or worked with the guy, subpoena medical records, demand reexamination with our own doctors, check his medications, like that. But we also use private investigators to follow these people around, see for example if they forget to wear their neck brace when they go waterskiing and think nobody’s looking. Or, in the case of our airport security director, if he still pursues the low-stress sport of bungee jumping with his son.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œWe haven’t caught him red-handed yet, but we’ve got hearsay witnesses. We’ll find out one way or the other. But the point—the reason I called you—isn’t Mr. Airport Security. It’s Wilson Mayhew.”
    â€œYou’re reviewing his claim.”
    â€œNo flies on you,” she said. “We got the latest batch of paperwork from CalMed this afternoon, and I was doing my pro forma review of red-flagged claims, and I recognized Mayhew’s name from our many fascinating talks.”
    â€œAs well you should, Ames. So what happened? Wilson got flagged?”
    â€œYes, he did. But don’t get your hopes up too far about that, Wyatt. It’s automatic for all permanent, full-disability claims. Beyond that, it’s any claim over a hundred grand a year. Then also Mayhew’s claiming stress-related, nonspecific injury—back pain is the classic—where there’s no immediate and apparent physical cause. He didn’t fall down an elevator shaft and break his back, for example. He doesn’t have a herniated disk or anything else we can see in the X-rays or pick up on the MRI. Evidently, he was helping one of his employees lift something at work, and he felt a bad tweak and went down. The next morning, he couldn’t get out of bed, although apparently he’s semi-ambulatory now.” She took a breath. “So he gets flagged on all counts.”
    â€œHe’s lying.”
    â€œHe may be. Although I have seen claims like his that turned out to be legitimate.”
    â€œI know the guy,” I said, “and there’s no way he helped somebody try to lift anything bigger than a paper clip.”
    She said, “You want to try to prove that?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, help us determine if his claim is legitimate.”
    â€œHow would I do that?”
    â€œAny way you could.”
    A hole opened in the conversation. Finally, I found a voice. “Haven’t you got a bunch of private investigators you use for that kind of work?”
    â€œNot a bunch, but some, yes.”
    â€œThen I don’t get it. Why me?”
    â€œWell, licensed, gun-toting PIs are expensive, at least if they’re any good. Usually the firm does a preliminary investigation