Not to strangle himself to death. Therefore, his death had to be an accident.”

He’s quiet a moment. “You make a good case. Perhaps you should hire an attorney to present that argument.”

“Why would I hire an attorney?”

“Sorry. I meant Mrs. Thorne.”

“This is pretty clear cut, Arthur: the fact that David’s death occurred because of his sexual preferences or gross negligence doesn’t prevent his death from being an accident. David didn’t want to kill himself, he wanted to experience an intense orgasm. If he wanted to kill himself he wouldn’t have placed a cloth under the rope, wouldn’t have gotten naked, wouldn’t have watched babysitter porn. Yes, he knew it was a risky activity, but so is driving a car on New Year’s Eve. And yet reasonable people do it every year.”

“Your point’s not lost on me, Miss Hill. I happen to agree with you. But as for your automobile example, the safest drivers have the fewest accidents. And David wasn’t practicing safe sex when he died.”

“The safest drivers get struck by unsafe drivers every day. Reasonable people know this, but it’s a risk they’re willing to accept. And I’m sure David understood the risks of his sexual activity.”

“Well, there you have it: you’ve just identified the problem we’re facing: according to the insurance company, there’s no evidence David ever attempted this type of activity before. If he had, and had survived, they might be forced to reconsider.”

“Why’s that?”

“If David had survived the activity in the past he’d have every reasonable expectation to survive it the day he died.”

“Didn’t Alison tell you she caught him doing it?”

“Yes, but she’s not prepared to take a polygraph.”

“They can’t make her.”

“No, but if a wife actually saw her husband performing autoerotic asphyxiation, why would she refuse to take a polygraph about it?”

“Doesn’t matter. The company’s not gonna pay just because she passes a polygraph.”

“No, but it might help them believe her story.”

“What about me?” I ask. “I saw David with a noose around his neck.”

“No offense, but Alison doubts that story. And anyway, sitting on the closet floor with a noose around your neck isn’t the same as hanging yourself for sexual gratification.”

“From what I understand there was no evidence David’s death was probable, expected, or a natural result of his activity. He did it for the sole purpose of getting off, and had every expectation he’d come out of the experience alive, without injury, as he had many times before.”

“Well, as I said, if there was a shred of credible evidence David had done this at least once before, we could probably get the company to reconsider.”

I think about my two-hour video, and how I recorded all of David’s erotic asphyxiation episodes including the one where he did every part of it himself, from tying the knot to saving himself after the fact. That’s the only one that would count, but Blass said one was enough.

I ask, “If someone could prove David had done it before, how much would his family stand to benefit?”

“If all David’s policies paid the accident benefit, it would add more than seven million dollars to his estate, tax free.”

“Wow. Too bad there’s no credible evidence.”

Alison joins the conversation: “Are you sure about that?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I think you know a helluva lot more than you’re saying. I’ve known David all my life. There’s no way he came up with this hanging thing all by himself, and there’s no way he gave you all that money hoping to have an affair with you.”

“We’ve had this discussion before, Mom, and my answer’s not gonna change.”

“Are you willing to accept two-point-five million to walk away? You’d also have to agree to stop seeing Jessie.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about with regard to Jessie. I haven’t seen her since the funeral. But since you’ve lowered your offer to two-point-five, I’m going to respectfully decline. I’ll contest David’s will and sue his estate for the portion that’s rightfully mine.”

“I see. And does that mean you’re going to keep seeing Jessie?”

“Again, I have no idea what you mean.”

“You had sex with my daughter!” she yells. She starts yelling something else, but I can’t hear her over the loud banging on my front door.

Now a man’s voice shouts, “Nicki Hill? Shelbyville Police Department. We have a warrant to search the premises.