emergency, trust me,” I said.
“Jesus, first Calhill gets sick, and now you have a toothache.”
“What’s the matter with Calhill?”
“Started throwing up. Had to send him home,” Geiger said.
“Great.” Just what I needed. Some people you can count on. Others, you can count on to bail when you need them. Guess which category fit Rick?
“Get back here as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
Maybe someone else, someone smarter, would have thought these events peculiar. I had other things on my mind, mainly my tooth. I didn’t have time to analyze such things.
I should have made the time.
I made it to Dad’s office before two. There were four people sitting in the waiting room, one of them a nine-year-old kid, who looked scared. Dad was pretty good with the kids, except maybe his own sometimes, but this kid probably had to go through his first drilling. It was a fearful experience, even for someone who had it done before, but this kid was going through the worst part. He could hear the drilling going on in the offices, knowing that he headed for that soon. No fun.
Nancy sat behind the window, on the phone. She sat at a desk cluttered with papers and file folders. Before she would leave, the entire desk would be clear and neat. She was one of the best, and that’s why Dad kept her for as long as he did. She smiled at me, and hung up the phone.
“Hello, darling,” she said. “In a little pain?”
“A lot,” I said. I grabbed my jaw, as if she needed to know where the pain stemmed from.
“Go into room two, he’ll be right with you.”
I walked through the hallway, and into the room. It hadn’t changed much since I was a kid, except for a new chair, and a new X-Ray machine, smaller than the huge contraption he originally had, which reminded me of some alien weapon. I started up the spit sink, took off my jacket, and sat down in the chair.
Even though I grew up around dentistry, I couldn’t get rid of the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was the anticipation of pain; worse than any real pain you’ll experience. That’s why people hated dentists; there was a good chance you were going to be in pain, and the dentist was the one who was going to inflict it. My Dad was good at that, but I don’t know if he was better than anyone else, because I never went to another dentist. Dad was planning on retiring in a few years. I had no idea what I was going to do then.
Seated in the chair, I glanced around the room, at all the ads with smiling people and white teeth. They were ridiculous, but I always stared at them while I was getting drilled. It gave me something to do.
Dad walked in behind me. “Well, well, well.”
“Hey, Dad,” I said, twisting my head to look at him.
“Nancy says you’re hurting quite a bit.”
“You could say that.”
He came around to look at me. Dad was a small man, 5’9", and looked nothing like a dentist. He had huge forearms, like Popeye almost, a shiny scalp, and thick glasses. That was my future, genetically. I was reminded of that every time I looked at him. Needless to say, it didn’t make me happy. My genetic future looked cloudy at best. At least Dad had a strong ticker, but from what I understand, my genetic blueprint comes from my grandparents, all of whom died of either cancer or heart problems. The good money was on me dying before fifty. No one would touch anything over that.
Dad grabbed one of those scraper things and told me to open my mouth. He pressed in the center of the tooth, which made me let him know it hurt.
“Ow,” I said.
“You been flossing?” Flossing is disgusting, and a waste of time, in my opinion. Dad had tried to instill in me the importance of such oral hygiene, but he had pretty much wasted his time.
“Sometimes.” Bullshit, of course.
“Bullshit. You could feed a small village with what you have wedged in between your teeth.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. It’s hard to talk with someone’s hand in your mouth.
“They mentioned your name on TV today.” Dad had a habit of repeating things he had said earlier to me.
I replied something that only he and I could understand.
“Got a big case, huh?”
I always wondered why he insisted on having conversations with people unable to respond. It was great if you wanted to get a point across without having to hear anything back, but it didn’t do much for two-way conversations.
“Yesh,” I said.
“Shame what happened to that Mullins guy. I have stock in Techdata.”
I wanted to tell him that he told me that already, and that my investigation most likely wouldn’t affect the value of his portfolio, but, obviously, there was no way to do that.
“You think it was a suicide?”
I shrugged. He began scraping where my teeth met my gums, which sent a chill throughout my entire body.
“You think he was murdered?”
I shrugged again.
He took his hand out of my mouth. My tooth was still throbbing from that poking thing he did, and my gums were a little sore.
“Spit,” he said.
I did, and a good amount of blood came out.
“Thanks,” I said, sarcastically.
“I keep telling you to come for cleanings. Then you wouldn’t have to go through this every six months.”
“I know.”
“I won’t know for sure, until after I do your x-rays, but I think you need a root canal on that tooth. I told you that the filling was only temporary. Most of it has fallen out, and I think you rotted the tooth straight through.”
“Right,” I said. All I heard was him say, ‘Pain, pain, and then some more pain. To be followed by pain.’
“What sort of appointment do you have?”
“Interview for the case,” I said.
“Suspect?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
He walked over to the counter, opened up a folder, which was my file, and jotted a few things down. I never saw what was in that file. He never let me see it. I was his son, dammit.
“Yeah, that tooth definitely needs a root canal. We drilled down as far as we could last time. A year and a half ago.”
“Well, let’s get it done.”
“Yes, let’s.”
“And give me the gas.”
“Gas?” Dad asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, gas. It’s easier that way.”
“If that’s what you want.” I knew, in his mind, he said, ‘Sissy.’ I didn’t care. I liked the gas, especially for a root canal. I had one a few years before, and the tooth had three nerves going to it, instead of one. Dad had to inject the Novocain directly into the two other nerves. That was pain, and if it was going to happen again, I was going to be high. Very high.
Dad went about preparing for the root canal. His other assistant, a new one, came in. I couldn’t see her, just hear her voice. It sounded sweet.
“Jane,” Dad said, “Bring in the nitrous, and let’s get my son here ready for a root canal.”
“Of course,” she said. “Your son?”
She walked around the chair, in front of me. She sounded better than she looked, but she wasn’t too bad. And she was a redhead. I had a soft spot for them.
“Jane, that’s my son, John. John, this is my new assistant, Jane.” It sounded like a children’s book.
“Hello,” she said. She was a twenty-something. All of Dad’s assistants were, except for Nancy. It was like that Latin group Menudo; once the assistants got past a certain age they got the boot. I think the cutoff was twenty-eight. Not bad, Dad.
“Hey,” I said. I felt like a dick sitting there with some gauze hanging out of my mouth, and some dumbass apron on. No way to look cool like that.
“A root canal, huh?”
“Yeah. Hurts like a bitch, too.”
She smiled. Dad sighed. “They usually do,” she said. She walked out of the room, and Dad came over, applying some topical anesthetic to t
he area where he was going to insert that 10-foot long needle in me.
“Jane is single, by the way, and looking.”
“She into one night stands?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She won’t go out with me yet.”
I laughed.
“Maybe you should ask Mom how to go about it.”
It was a wiseass comment. Leave it at that.
“Do me a hell of a lot more good than asking you,” my dad said. Ouch. Hitting below the belt.
“She ain’t bad looking.”
“I know how to pick them. You should ask her out. I think she likes cops. She said something to that effect the other day.” I’m not sure how someone says something like that.
“Yeah, this is the place to do it. With my mouth being treated like an oil dig, and spit rolling down my chin. Maybe some other time.”
“A good looking girl like her isn’t going to stay single long.”
“Neither is a good looking guy like me.”
Dad produced the needle. He normally kept the needle out of sight when he injected patients. He didn’t bother doing that with me. Just shoved it into my mouth, and injected me. I could feel the damn thing hitting my bone, but just as the pain struck, I got numbed. That weird sort of numb only Novocain can give you. It just amazed me how much pressure was needed to inject it.
“There. You should be numb in about ten minutes, so if you have something to say, now’s the time to do it.”
“That time I fell asleep in the tree; I wasn’t rescuing a cat. I got drunk and was checking to see if you were still awake. Then I passed out.”
“Another reason I am such a proud father,” Dad said.
My jaw tingled. I never could get used to that feeling. It felt chemical, almost toxic. Dad always said it was nothing to worry about. Then again, very little fit that category for him.
“Jane will be in here in about five minutes to give you your gas,” Dad said.
“I already have gas.”
“You might want to get rid of that before you get high. I don’t want you embarrassing me.”
“Aw, don’t worry Pop. I’ve never done that before.”
Dad just rolled his eyes.
Ten
The Novocain didn’t take long to set in, and the left side of my face felt made of lead in no time. I sat in the chair for a few minutes, thinking about the case, and thinking about Sondra. Could she have been playing me? Was she behind what happened to her husband, and playing seductress with me to avert my attention to other things? It was possible, but not probable, in my opinion. I mean, things certainly did point in her direction, a lot of things, but she just didn’t seem capable. She was just too pretty. Well, actually, that worked more against her than for her. Pretty women were capable of such things even more so than unattractive ones. On top of that, she did inherit the business, which would certainly go to motive, but the making the death look like a suicide didn’t benefit her at all, considering what she had lost on the insurance. Chalk that up to her plus side.
With the Novocain setting in, the toothache went away, and it felt like a tremendous amount of pressure was lifted from my head. I still anticipated the throbbing pain, the same way you anticipate hiccups when they stop, but nothing was there. Relief, beautiful. I knew the worst was yet to come, but I had my good friend, Nitrous Oxide, in my comer. My father could use a jackhammer in my mouth, so long as I had the gas.
Jane walked in, a gas tank on wheels in front of her. “Here’s the sweet air,” she said, hooking the gas up to the contraption on the wall. I heard some hissing. It was almost ready. “You numb yet?”
“Yesh,” I said, dribbling on myself a little.
“I see we’ll need a little suction here,” she said, almost giggling. She reached for the thing my father used to call, Mr. Slurpee, a white plastic tube with a hole at the end of it. The thing always grossed me out. After all, it collected spit. Lots of it. She took the tube, put it in my mouth, and turned it on. It got caught on my cheek, so she adjusted it, brushing her hand against my face as she did so. Her skin was soft. “Is that better?”
I nodded. It really wasn’t, but there was no use in dribbling all over myself telling her that. She left Mr. Slurpee and me alone, and I waited for Dad to come in.
It took him about five minutes to return.
“Numb?” he asked.
I nodded.
He reached for the gas mask.
“Alright, I’m gonna put this on you. You know the drill.”
Yeah Dad, suck that shit in as deep as you can. Got it.
I nodded.
“Let me check that tooth first.”
He grabbed that poking tool again and pushed hard on the tooth. I didn’t feel a damn thing.
“It’s pretty bad. I hope I can salvage it.”
“Uh,” I said, which meant “I hope so too.”
“You should have let me take care of this sooner.”
“Uh,” I said, which mean, “Yeah, whatever.”
He kept poking. His fingers smelled like hospital soap. They always did. It reminded me of when I was a kid. I didn’t get to see him all that much because he was so busy building his practice. My routine cleanings were really the only opportunity I had to talk to him. So, basically, I got all the lectures about grades and staying out of trouble while getting my teeth scraped. What a pleasure.
He put the mask on. “I’ll be back in a second.”
As soon as he put the thing over my nose, I started inhaling, deeply. Nothing happens right away. It’s not like sucking in nitrous from a whipped cream can. This stuff is mixed with oxygen, so it takes a little longer to take effect. After a few minutes, my head felt light, and I didn’t give a crap about anything. Not the case, not Sondra, not my tooth. I was only concerned with the group of people in an ad on the counter, who were smiling at me. They were my friends. One of the women winked at me, I think. I winked back.
Dad and Jane came back in the room, and went to the business of fixing my poor tooth. I really didn’t pay much attention to them. They were inconsequential. All that mattered was the small piece of rubber on my nose, which flowed so sweetly into my nose and lungs.
Dad started with a large drill bit, grinding the tooth down. Smoke and mist came shooting out of my mouth. The smell was horrible, but I couldn’t detect it too much with the mask on. And it didn’t make a difference in the world.
I felt myself floating. My hands felt like they were lifting by themselves. I was pretty sure I had my hand on my own leg, but it could have been on Jane’s. She didn’t seem to mind. Actually, she kept smiling at me. Maybe Dad had said something to her about me. He always did that. He was constantly trying to hook me up with one of his assistants. I never dated any of them, mainly because I didn’t want my romantic affairs being discussed in his office. Not cool.
Dad stopped drilling. I kept drifting. I investigated the case in my own little world. I saw Ron Mullins’ body, all battered, lying in the morgue. I saw Harold Chapman, ducking and weaving my questions, like a boxer. And I saw Sondra, Roseanna, and Jane, all wearing teddies, beckoning my as they lie on my bed. Nitrous is such a beautiful thing.
After what seemed like five minutes, or a day, I opened my eyes. Dad was by the counter, writing something down in my file. My mouth was still numb, and the Nitrous mask was still on my face, but nothing was coming out.
“How’d it go?” I asked, again spitting all over myself.
“I was able to save it. I didn’t crown it or anything yet. Just a temporary filling, so don’t go and wait another two years to get this finished.”
“Okay.”
“You won’t feel any more pain, that’s for sure.”
“I won’t even be sore afterward?”
“Shouldn’t. You might feel a little pressure. If you do, let me know, I’ll do something with the filling.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost three.”
“Shit. I gotta get out o
f here.”
“Maybe you should wait a few minutes. I only turned off the gas about ten minutes ago.”
I took the apron off, removed Mr. Slurpee from my mouth, and went to get up, carefully. My body didn’t respond as quickly as I wanted it to, something I never got used to. I can’t lie; I liked being high on gas.
“How do you feel?”
My head spun slightly, but other than that, I was okay. “Fine.” I felt like a teenager trying to convince my dad I wasn’t drunk.
“You sure?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” A smile came to my lips that I could not prevent. I must have looked the fool. Dad certainly had seen that before.
He didn’t say anything for a second. Instead, putting his hand on my shoulder, perhaps to steady me. He looked at me for a moment. “Be careful with this case,” he said, “Okay?”
“Yeah Dad, I got this.”
“That’s what I am worried about. Keep your head, okay? And watch out for the people around you. Not everyone can be trusted.”
I was the cop. I knew that. Still, I respected his advice. “I will, Dad. I promise.”
I hugged him goodbye, and walked out the room. Being around my father calmed me most times, reminding me of the security of childhood. We lose that too fast, I think, and spend most of our lives hunting for it. Most men won’t admit how scared they really are day to day.
Before I made it out the door, Dad called to me.
“And stop smoking so much, John. If you’re teeth get any more yellow, they’ll be brown. I won’t even comment on what your lungs must look like.”
“Thanks.” So much for security. And my teeth were not that bad. Most people commented on how white they were for a smoker. Talk about sideways compliments.
I said goodbye to Nancy, couldn’t find Jane, so I left. The side of my mouth still felt twice as big as it actually was, and when I ran my tongue over the tooth, I felt that it was shaved down to almost half its size. It felt weird, and sharp.
I got into my car, and raced toward the city.
It took me twenty-five minutes to get back to the station, which wasn’t so bad. It helps when you are in a cop car doing ninety on the parkway. I wove in and out of cars, threw the lights on a few times for emphasis, and made good time. Luckily, there were no reporters at the station, and I made it inside unmolested.
Geiger waited for me downstairs.
“Cutting it close,” he said, looking at his watch.
“Sorry. It had to be done,” I said, careful to pronounce every word correctly.
“You gonna be able to interview Chapman like that?”
I nodded.
“You sure? I don’t want you screwing this up.”
“Don’t worry. Besides, it’s not like you can have Calhill do it,” I said, slowly. It was going to be tough. I don’t know why I didn’t think of such ramifications.
“Alright. What did you get from Mrs. Mullins?”
“She has been getting phone calls similar to the one I got today. She was upset, and I think she just needed to tell someone.”
“I don’t like this. I wanted Calhill with you. Now that’s not possible, and I can’t pull anyone else off another case to go with you. Maybe I should send a couple of uniforms with you.”
“Not a good idea.”
He agreed, reluctantly.
“Still want me to wear a wire?”
He thought about that for a moment. “I guess it doesn’t make sense if you don’t have someone listening in.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
“When you say