CHAPTER SIX: Jeremy D.
Cal Maxwell’s dental office was very fancy. The reception area could best be described as a happy room, with bright colors to inspire a positive mood a wide variety of magazines to make the waiting easier. Modern, Western European art hung on the walls from his many travels, and classical music played over the intercom.
The receptionist looked up at Blair with a smile, gesturing with her hand that her business on the telephone would be over soon. A familiar face to be sure, she had worked in the office when Blair had practiced there a few years ago.
Glancing around the room, Blair understood the kind of people who came to be treated in Cal’s office. His patients were classy types, those with big bank accounts and plenty of dental coverage. Their stylish demeanor and upturned noses made Blair stand out in his soiled Armani suit. As he waited in the middle of that sampling of Michigan’s elite, he prayed that he wouldn’t run into any of the patients he used to treat.
On the counter was a snapshot of Cynthia and Vinnie standing in the middle of a corundum and rhodolite garnet alluvial deposit site. Behind them, folks were hunched over flumes while holding large trays with sieve bottoms in their hands. Surface mining was fun, especially with Vinnie. Vinnie was a luck magnet, so the bench next to his was always the hottest spot during a hunt.
“How may I help you, sir?” the receptionist said after hanging up the telephone.
“Is Dr. Maxwell in?”
“Are you one of his patients?” she asked, even though it was obvious just looking at him that he wasn’t.
“No, I’m a colleague,” he said. “My name is Blair Vaughn.”
The woman stared at him as if she’d just come face-to-face with a ghost. “Dr. Vaughn?” she said, finally recognizing him.
Blair rubbed the stubble on his face self-consciously. “I’m trying to grow a beard,” he explained.
“I’m sorry, but Dr. Maxwell isn’t in today.” The woman glanced around the quiet waiting room and then came out from behind the counter. “Please come with me,” she said, and so Blair followed her. She took him past the first three operatories, each of which was being occupied by a hygienist cleaning a patient’s teeth. Rooms four through seven were toward the back and reserved for the doctors.
Once inside the sterile lab, she turned to him and whispered, “Dr. Maxwell’s daughter was killed early Thursday morning.”
“Yes, I know. That’s why I came.”
“Lots of his friends have been stopping by. Dr. Maxwell is taking some time off from his practice. As you can understand, he’s very upset over what has happened.”
“I can imagine,” Blair said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’m afraid not. The wake is tonight and the funeral is tomorrow morning. You can reach Dr. Maxwell and his family at home.”
“All right, thank you.” Blair heard the sound of a high-speed handpiece running in one of the operatories and a blast from an air-water syringe. “Who’s filling in for Cal?”
“Dr. Driscall,” she said, and just the sound of the name made Blair cringe. Jeremy Driscall was a brilliant, charismatic dentist but about the biggest asshole Blair had ever met. All he needed was to run into a guy like that to make him feel worse about the slump he was in. “Would you like to see him?”
“No, he must be busy. I don’t want to interrupt him.”
She nodded, trying to smile. “Thanks for stopping by,” she said.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Vanessa Cravat.”
“Vanessa…?”
“Yes?”
He glanced around. “Do you have any aspirin?”
“Sure,” she said, turning to a cabinet above her head and taking out a bottle. “How many do you need?”
“Is that a fifty count?” he asked, referring to the container she was opening.
“Why yes, it is.”
“That’s what I need.”
“All fifty?”
“More than that, but fifty will do for a start.”
Vanessa held the bottle, considering the suggestion as a health professional would. She must’ve decided that a guy who called himself a doctor knew better about such things than she. Boy, was she snowed. Replacing the cap, she handed him the bottle.
He opened it again, chewed four tablets, and then put the rest in his pocket. “Bless your heart,” he said.
“Don’t do anything foolish with those,” she said, and he smiled.
“Not today.”
“I’ll tell Dr. Maxwell you were here.”
“Thanks, and I’ll try to reach him at home.”
“Good, he’d like that. He’s missed you, Doctor. We all miss you.”
“Thanks Vanessa, but I’m sure Jeremy Driscall is filling in just fine.”
Vanessa stared at him for a moment. “Believe me,” she whispered, “it’s not the same around here.”
Blair smiled. “I’d better get going. You take care now.”
“You, too.”
As Blair stepped out of the lab and headed for the door, he ran right into Jeremy Driscall’s tanned face, smug, crooked smile, and wide-set eyes. The pounding in Blair’s head intensified despite the acetylsalicylic acid running wild in his bloodstream.
“Blair, old man,” Jeremy said. “How’s it going?”
“Fine. How’s everything with you?”
“Oh, I can’t complain,” he said. “Came to see Cal?”
“Yes, but I should’ve known he wouldn’t be in today. It’s a shame about Cynthia.”
“Yes, it is,” Jeremy said, rubbing the side of his nose. The diamond ring on his little finger gleamed under the intense ceiling lights. “And to think that Cynthia was killed right next to our old haunt,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. The ‘old haunt’ he was referring to was Matt’s Pizza Parlor.
“It is hard to believe,” Blair said.
“That section of town isn’t the same anymore. There are vagabonds and drunkards hanging around over there. Isn’t that right, Blair?” he said in that condescending, you-should-know tone of his. “Anyway, I’m filling in for Cal for a few days. Why don’t you come back to work here? We could use the help.”
“I’m taking some time off from practicing,” Blair said, his voice trailing off. It was twice as embarrassing to admit his shortcomings to a colleague, and thrice to do so in front of Jeremy D.
“Are you coming to the funeral?” Jeremy asked, being obvious about looking at what Blair was wearing as if the clothes he had on wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“See you tomorrow, then,” Jeremy said, walking off to see a patient in one of the operatories. Jeremy never had been one for saying good-bye.