An Affair to Dismember (37 page)

It smelled wonderful, not like dentistry and torture at all, but like a botanical paradise. At least twenty flowerpots covered Belinda’s desk.

“Beautiful,” I said. “Someone must really like you.”

“Oh, these weren’t gifts. I grew them. I’m a flower enthusiast.”

I was honestly impressed. “You grow all kinds of flowers,” I noted. “My grandmother is proud of her roses, but she’s never grown anything this varied and exotic.”

At the mention of my grandmother, Belinda flinched and took a step back. “I’m glad you took my case, Gladie,” she said. “I saw what you did for Ruth’s niece, and it gave me hope for, you know, me.”

I had fixed up Ruth’s danger-prone niece, Julie, with my client, a danger-prone police sergeant. It was my one real case and a resounding success, if the cooing I heard from them in the back of the dollar movie theater last Friday was any proof.

I took a long hard look at Belinda. She and Julie had nothing in common. Julie looked like a prepubescent boy in slouchy clothes with her hair perennially in her eyes. Belinda’s hair was curly but tamed in a tight bun. Her clothes were ironed and starched. Her no-nonsense size-eighteen tan slacks met her glittery gold and black sweater, which was emblazoned with a lavender appliqué flower that took up most of her ample abdomen and flat chest, at about mid-thigh. Two little gold flower earrings adorned her ears, and her face was painted with thick layers of foundation and blush, her eyes draped in lavender—to match her sweater, I guessed.

“Maybe you have a police sergeant for me, too,” she said.

“At least a sergeant,” I said, trying to sound positive.

“Do you have pictures to show me so, you know, I can choose?”

We took a seat at her desk. “I thought I would first get to know you better, see what you’re interested in,” I said, taking out a notepad and a pen.

“Well, I’m looking for a man. Someone who appreciates me. And I’m losing weight! I have been drinking Chinese diet tea, and I’ve lost four pounds. These pants
were tight on me last week. Usually I have a metabolism like sludge.”

I nodded. Maybe there was something to Bird’s diet tea. I promised to brew myself a cup when I got home.

“Where the hell are the brownies? Did you eat all the brownies?”

Belinda’s office was invaded by a woman in a tight miniskirt and camisole. There was something off about her face, as if I was seeing her through an altered Hollywood camera lens.

“I am on a diet, Holly. Of course I didn’t eat the brownies,” Belinda said, clearly upset by the woman.

“Yeah, right,” she sneered. Her lips were unnaturally curved up like the Joker’s, pulling at her taut skin. Everything about her was tight. Her body defied gravity like it was made of wax. I caught myself staring and looked away quickly, pretending to go over my notes about Belinda’s desires in a mate.

“Here they are,” Holly announced, pulling out a Tupperware container filled with brownies. She took a big bite of one and tossed the container on the desk, unconcerned about resealing it and unconcerned about apologizing to Belinda. I disliked her instantly.

“That was the hygienist,” Belinda told me the moment Holly left the room. “She had fat from her ass put into her boobs, and she had Phil the plumber stick her with industrial Botox so her face never changes expression.”

I realized my mouth was open, and I snapped it closed. “Her face has been that way for four years,” Belinda continued. “When she won Sunday night bingo, her face stayed the same. Ditto the day a patient had a heart attack and died in her chair when she was flossing him. She’s a class A whore, too. I don’t want to tell tales, but she likes them young.” She said “young” in a conspiratorial whisper that made me lean forward to hear more. But Belinda strayed from the topic. “She doesn’t
need Chinese tea, that’s for sure. She’s got a metabolism like a hummingbird. She must eat ten times her weight. Of course, that’s only about ten pounds.” She found this uproariously funny and burst into hysterics. I had to slap her on the back for her to catch her breath.

When she came around she described what she was looking for in a man, which sounded eerily similar to George Clooney. “How long do you think it will take?” she asked.

“Well, we can’t rush these things. Love, I mean.” It was the wrong thing to say. Belinda looked at me like I had told her Santa Claus didn’t exist. “Give me a week to look through my files,” I amended. “I’m sure Mr. Right is in there.”

What was I saying? I didn’t have files. I had Grandma’s stacks of note cards I could pilfer and look through, but otherwise, I had no clue who to fix Belinda up with.

“Now, who do we have here? Hey, pretty lady, here for a checkup?”

I jumped three feet in the air. Dr. Simon Dulur stood in the doorway, a shiny dental instrument in his hand, pointing at me with it. The instrument was metal and long with a sharp hooked end. My eyes swirled in their sockets, and I saw stars.

“Whoa, we got a fainter! We got a fainter! Code six!” Dr. Dulur waved his hands around and moved his head from side to side as he shouted, like a quarterback at a football game calling the plays before the snap. He was moving the dental instrument around pretty good now, and it caught a glint of sun and shined in my eyes.

I wonder what codes one through five are
, I thought just before I lost consciousness.

“THERE SHE is. She’s coming around now.”

“Where am I?” I asked, but I knew exactly where I
was. My body hung almost upside down in a Bliss Dental chair, a spit cloth draped on my chest. Dr. Dulur hung over me, his polyester shirt unbuttoned halfway to reveal a tuft of curly gray chest hair and three gold chains that seemed to float in midair as he leaned perilously close to my head. His hands were in my mouth, the scary dental instrument between his fingers, busily inspecting my teeth and gums. “Where am I?” came out muffled because my mouth was open and full of Dr. Dulur.

“Uh-oh. This is what I feared,” he said.

“What are you doing?” I tried to say.

“Dr. Dulur likes to take advantage of a fainter.” The voice came from somewhere to my left. “That didn’t come out right,” the voice said, and a head appeared behind Dr. Dulur. He was young, no more than twenty. I noticed he was prematurely balding and had perfectly straight white teeth. “What I meant to say is that he likes to do as much work on you while you’re unconscious as possible so you’re not scared,” he explained.

“But I’m not here to see the dentist,” I tried to say. Sweat had popped out on my forehead. I wanted to swat Dr. Dulur’s hands from my mouth, but I was paralyzed with fear.

“That’s what I tried to tell him.” Belinda appeared above me, the third head to hang over my face. “He wouldn’t listen.”

“Well, I’m afraid the news isn’t all that great, but it’s fixable,” said Dr. Dulur. “Lucky you came in when you did.” He put the instrument down and smiled at me. “Seven cavities.”

My hand flew to my mouth. “Seven what? No, I don’t have cavities. I’m just neurotic. It’s in my head.”

“Yes, it’s in your head all right,” he said, still smiling. “All seven cavities are right there in your head. Somebody hasn’t been brushing regularly.”

“But that can’t be. I brush and floss religiously.”

I wasn’t lying. I was a big brusher, and I changed toothbrushes every month. I did what I had to so I wouldn’t need to see a dentist.

“Oh, then it’s probably age. We’re not as young as we were, you know.” Dr. Dulur was still smiling. He must not have realized how close my fist was to his face.

“Age?” I echoed. “Age?” I was carded at the 7-Eleven only last year. Was it the generic face cream I was using?

Dr. Dulur flinched. “Maybe not age. You probably just need to do a rinse before bed. Keep your mouth moist during the night. Dry mouth can cause cavities. You must have your mouth open at night when you snore.”

“Snore?” I said a little too loudly.

“Should we fill up those little holes right away? How about I get you numbed up and start drilling?” Dr. Dulur asked.

And then I was running. I made it out of the chair, through the office, and out the front door in a matter of seconds.

Once outside, I gulped fresh air. Matchmaking wasn’t easy.

I started counting my teeth to make sure they were all still there. That’s why I didn’t see him until it was too late, until his strong arm caught mine in a viselike grip and pulled me around the side of the building.